The tragic collapse of all their hopes was almost more than they could bear. Coming on top of the nerve-racking events of the night, it left them dazed and directionless. It was, of course, Miss Cornelia who recovered first.
“Even without the money,” she said; “the mere presence of this safe here, hidden away, tells the story. The fact that someone else knew and got here first cannot alter that.”
But she could not cheer them. It was Lizzie who created a diversion. Lizzie who had bolted into the hall at the first motion of the mantelpiece outward and who now, with equal precipitation, came bolting back. She rushed into the room, slamming the door behind her, and collapsed into a heap of moaning terror at her mistress’s feet. At first she was completely inarticulate, but after a time she muttered that she had seen “him” and then fell to groaning again.
The same thought was in all their minds, that in some corner of the upper floor she had come across the body of Anderson. But when Miss Cornelia finally quieted her and asked this, she shook her head.
“It was the Bat I saw,” was her astounding statement. “He dropped through the skylight out there and ran along the hall. I saw him I tell you. He went right by me!”
“Nonsense,” said Miss Cornelia briskly. “How can you say such a thing?”
But Bailey pushed forward and took Lizzie by the shoulder.
“What did he look like?”
“He hadn’t any face. He was all black where his face ought to be.”
“Do you mean he wore a mask?”