She looked up anxiously.
Bailey made his report breathlessly.
"Nothing in the house, sir." Billy's impassive lips confirmed him.
"We go all over house--nobody!" Nobody--nobody in the house! And yet--the mysterious ringing of the phone--the groans Miss Cornelia had heard! Were old wives' tales and witches' fables true after all?
Did a power--merciless--evil--exists outside the barriers of the flesh--blasting that trembling flesh with a cold breath from beyond the portals of the grave?
There seemed to be no other explanation.
"You men stay here!" said the detective.

"I want to ask you some questions." He doggedly returned to his third-degreeing of Dale.
"Now what about this blue-print ?" he queried sharply.
Dale stiffened in her chair.

Her lies had failed.

Now she would tell a portion of the truth, as much of it as she could without menacing Jack.
"I'll tell you just what happened," she began.

"I sent for Richard Fleming--and when he came, I asked him if he knew where there were any blue-prints of the house." The detective pounced eagerly upon her admission.
"Why did you want blue-prints ?" he thundered.
"Because," Dale took a long breath, "I believe old Mr.Fleming took the money himself from the Union Bank and hid it here." "Where did you get that idea ?" Dale's jaw set.