“Then you know why I’m here?” he stammered.
“I still have a certain amount of imagination! I may think you are a fool for taking the risk, but I can see what that idiot of a detective might not—that if you had looted the Union Bank you wouldn’t be trying to discover if the money is in this house. You would at least presumably know where it is.”
The knowledge that he had an ally in this brisk and indomitable spinster lady cheered him greatly. But she did not wait for any comment from him. She turned abruptly to Dale.
“Now I want to ask you something,” she said more gravely. “Was there a blue-print, and did you get it from Richard Fleming?”
It was Dale’s turn now to bow her head.
“Yes,” she confessed.
Bailey felt a thrill of horror run through him. She hadn’t told him this!
“Dale!” he said uncomprehendingly, “don’t you see where this places you? If you had it, why didn’t you give it to Anderson when he asked for it?”
“Because,” said Miss Cornelia uncompromisingly, “she had sense enough to see that Mr. Anderson considered that piece of paper the final link in the evidence against her!”
“But she could have no motive!” stammered Bailey, distraught, still failing to grasp the significance of Dale’s refusal.