Whatever resentment he might have felt
died in that awful presence.
"He got into the house early tonight," he said, "probably with the
Doctor's connivance. That wrist watch there is probably the
luminous eye Lizzie thought she saw."
But Miss Cornelia's face was still thoughtful, and he went on:
"Isn't it clear, Miss Van Gorder?" he queried, with a smile. "The
Doctor and old Mr. Fleming formed a conspiracy--both needed money--
lots of it. Fleming was to rob the bank and hide the money here.
Wells's part was to issue a false death certificate in the West, and
bury a substitute body, secured God knows how. It was easy; it kept
the name of the president of the Union Bank free from suspicion--
and it put the blame on me."
He paused, thinking it out.
"Only they slipped up in one place. Dick Fleming leased the house
to you and they couldn't get it back."
"Then you are sure," said Miss Cornelia quickly, "that tonight
Courtleigh Fleming broke in, with the Doctor's assistance--and
that he killed Dick, his own nephew, from the staircase?"
"Aren't you?" asked Bailey surprised. The more he thought of it
the less clearly could he visualize it any other way.
Miss Cornelia shook her head decidedly.
"No."
Bailey thought her merely obstinate--unwilling to give up, for
pride's sake, her own pet theory of the activities of the Bat.
"Wells tried to get out of the house tonight with that blue-print.
Why? Because he knew the moment we got it, we'd come up here--and
Fleming was here.
Pages:
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245