"I think that I can promise you a quiet
night from now on."
"I'm glad you think so, Mr. Anderson!" Miss Cornelia insisted on
the last word. The detective ignored the satiric twist of her
speech, motioned the Doctor out ahead of him, and followed. The
faint glow of his candle flickered a moment and vanished toward the
stairs.
It was Bailey who broke the silence.
"I can believe a good bit about Wells," he said, "but not that he
stood on that staircase and killed Dick Fleming."
Miss Cornelia roused from deep thought.
"Of course not," she said briskly. "Go down and fix Miss Dale's
bed, Lizzie. And then bring up some wine."
"Down there, where the Bat is?" Lizzie demanded.
"The Bat has gone."
"Don't you believe it. He's just got his hand in!"
But at last Lizzie went, and, closing the door behind her, Miss
Cornelia proceeded more or less to think, out loud.
"Suppose," she said, "that the Bat, or whoever it was shut in there
with you, killed Richard Fleming. Say that he is the one Lizzie
saw coming in by the terrace door. Then he knew where the money
was for he went directly up the stairs. But that is two hours ago
or more. Why didn't he get the money, if it was here, and get away?"
"He may have had trouble with the combination."
"Perhaps. Anyhow, he was on the small staircase when Dick Fleming
started up, and of course he shot him. That's clear enough. Then
he finally got the safe open, after locking us in below, and my
coming up interrupted him.
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