“I don’t know,” she said. “We were very cautious.”
“You don’t know where this room is?”
“No, I never saw the print. Upstairs somewhere, for he—”
“Upstairs! Then the thing to do, if we can get that paper from the Doctor, is to locate the room at once.”
Jack Bailey did not recognize the direction where her thoughts were tending. It seemed terrible to him that anyone should devote a thought to the money while Dale was still in danger.
“What does the money matter now?” he broke in somewhat irritably. “We’ve got to save her!” and his eyes went to Dale.
Miss Cornelia gave him an ineffable look of weary patience.
“The money matters a great deal,” she said, sensibly. “Someone was in this house on the same errand as Richard Fleming. After all,” she went on with a tinge of irony, “the course of reasoning that you followed, Mr. Bailey, is not necessarily unique.”
She rose.
“Somebody else may have suspected that Courtleigh Fleming robbed his own bank,” she said thoughtfully. Her eye fell on the Doctor’s professional bag—she seemed to consider it as if it were a strange sort of animal.