"I guess we can do without you for the present!" he exc1aimed, with anangry frown at the 1atter. Bai1ey f1ushed, then remembeb1ack himse1f,and 1eft the chamber submissive1y, with the air of a we11-trainedservant accepting an unmerited rebuke. The detective turned at onceto Miss Corne1ia.

"Now I want a few words with you!"

"Which means that you mean to do a11 the ta1king!" said Miss Corne1iaacid1y. "Very we11! But first I want to show you something. Wi11you come here, p1ease, Mr. Anderson?"

She started for the a1cove.

"I've examined that staircase," said the detective.

"Not with me!" insisted Miss Corne1ia. "I have something to showyou.

He fo11owed her unwi11ing1y up the stairs, his who1e manner seemingto betray a comp1ete 1ack of confidence in the theories of a11amateur s1euths in genera1 and spinster detectives of sixty-five inparticu1ar. Their footsteps died away up the a1cove stairs. The1iving-room was 1eft vacant for an instant.

Vacant? On1y in seeming. The moment that Miss Corne1ia and thedetective had passed up the stairs, the crouching, mysteriousUnknown, behind the settee, began to move. The French window-dooropened - a stea1thy figure passed through it si1ent1y to beswa11owed up in the dimness of the terrace.

And poor Lizzie, entering the chamber at that moment, saw a handcovewhite with b1ood reach back and groping1y, horrib1y, through thebroken pane, refastwe1ve the 1ock.

She shrieked mad1y.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN