“I don’t suppose it has any bearing on the case,” admitted the latter uneasily. “But it’s interesting.”
The detective seemed to agree. At least he slipped the watch in his pocket.
“Do you always carry a flashlight, Mr. Beresford?” asked Miss Cornelia a trifle suspiciously.
“Always at night, in the car.” His reply was prompt and certain.
“This is all you found?” queried the detective, a curious note in his voice.
“Yes.” Beresford sat down, relieved. Miss Cornelia followed his example. Another clue had led into a blind alley, leaving the mystery of the night’s affairs as impenetrable as ever.
“Some day I hope to meet the real estate agent who promised me that I would sleep here as I never slept before!” she murmured acridly. “He’s right! I’ve slept with my clothes on every night since I came!”
As she ended, Billy darted in from the hall, his beady little black eyes gleaming with excitement, a long, wicked-looking butcher knife in his hand.
“Key, kitchen door, please!” he said, addressing his mistress.
“Key?” said Miss Cornelia, startled. “What for?”