“Maybe,” he admitted. “I—don’t—know.” His voice trailed off. He fell back against Bailey’s arm.
Miss Cornelia gave a little shiver. The third degree in reality was less pleasant to watch than it had been to read about in the pages of her favorite detective stories.
“He’s evidently been attacked,” she said, turning to Anderson. “He claims to have recovered consciousness in the garage, where he was tied hand and foot!”
“He does, eh?” said the detective heavily. He glared at the Unknown. “If you’ll give me five minutes alone with him, I’ll get the truth out of him!” he promised.
A look of swift alarm swept over the Unknown’s face at the words, unperceived by any except Miss Cornelia. The others started obediently to yield to the detective’s behest and leave him alone with his prisoner. Miss Cornelia was the first to move toward the door. On her way, she turned.
“Do you believe that money is irrevocably gone?” she asked of Anderson.
The detective smiled.
“There’s no such word as ‘irrevocable’ in my vocabulary,” he answered. “But I believe it’s out of the house, if that’s what you mean.”
Miss Cornelia still hesitated, on the verge of departure.
“Suppose I tell you that there are certain facts that you have overlooked?” she said slowly.