"Ask the Doctor who attacked me downstairs in the
living-room, knocked me senseless, and locked me in the billiard
room!"
There was an astounded silence. The detective added a parting shot
to his indictment of the Doctor.
"The next time you put handcuffs on a man be sure to take the key
out of his vest pocket," he said, biting off the words.
Rage and consternation mingled on the Doctor's countenance--on the
faces of the others astonishment was followed by a growing certainty.
Only Miss Cornelia clung stubbornly to her original theory.
"Perhaps I'm an obstinate old woman," she said in tones which
obviously showed that if so she was rather proud of it, "but the
Doctor and all the rest of us were locked in the living-room not
ten minutes ago!"
"By the Bat, I suppose!" mocked Anderson.
"By the Bat!" insisted Miss Cornelia inflexibly. "Who else would
have fastened a dead bat to the door downstairs? Who else would
have the bravado to do that? Or what you call the imagination?"
In spite of himself Anderson seemed to be impressed.
"The Bat, eh?" he muttered, then, changing his tone, "You knew
about this hidden room, Wells?" he shot at the Doctor.
"Yes." The Doctor bowed his head.
"And you knew the money was in the room?"
"Well, I was wrong, wasn't I?" parried the Doctor. "You can look
for yourself. That safe is empty."
The detective brushed his evasive answer aside.
"You were up in this room earlier tonight," he said in tones of
apparent certainty.
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