He did not look at Dale again.
Anderson handed back the flashlight to its owner.
"Now--what's your name ?" he said sternly.
"Beresford--Reginald Beresford," said the young man sulkily.

"If you doubt it I've probably got a card somewhere--" He began to search through his pockets.
"What's your business ?" went on the detective.
"What's my business here ?" queried the young man, obviously fencing with his interrogator.
"No--how do you earn your living ?" said Anderson sharply.
"I don't," said the young man flippantly.

"I may have to begin now, if that is of any interest to you.

As a matter of fact, I've studied law but--" The one word was enough to start Lizzie off on another trail of distrust.

"He may be a LAWYER--" she quoted to herself sepulchrally from the evening newspaper article that had dealt with the mysterious identity of the Bat.
"And you came here to telephone about your car ?" persisted the detective.
Dale rose from her chair with a hopeless little sigh.