The others stared at her--no longer able
to deny the sinister plausibility of her theory. But this new
tangling of the mystery, just when the black threads seemed raveled
out at last, was almost too much for Dale.
"Oh, call the detective!" she stammered, on the verge of hysterical
tears. "Let's get through with this thing! I can't bear any more!"
But Miss Cornelia did not even hear her. Her mind, strung now to
concert pitch, had harked back to the point it had reached some
time ago, and which all the recent distractions had momentarily
obliterated.
Had the money been taken out of the house or had it not? In that
mad rush for escape had the man hidden with Dale in the recess back
of the mantel carried his booty with him, or left it behind? It
was not in the Hidden Room, that was certain.
Yet she was so hopeless by that time that her first search was
purely perfunctory.
During her progress about the room the Unknown's eyes followed her,
but so still had he sat, so amazing had been the discovery of the
body, that no one any longer observed him. Now and then his head
drooped forward as if actual weakness was almost overpowering him,
but his eyes were keen and observant, and he was no longer taking
the trouble to act--if he had been acting.
It was when Bailey finally opened the lid of a clothes hamper that
they stumbled on their first clue.
"Nothing here but some clothes and books," he said, glancing inside.
"Books?" said Miss Cornelia dubiously.
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