Bailey--Bailey--she was sure she remembered that name--on Dale's lips.
"Dale, dear, did you know this young Bailey ?" she asked point-blank.
The girl had started to light a cigarette.

The flame wavered in her fingers, the match went out.
"Yes--slightly," she said.

She bent to strike another match, averting her face.

Miss Cornelia did not press her.
"What with bank robberies and communism and the income tax," she said, turning the subject, "the only way to keep your money these days is to spend it." "Or not to have any--like myself!" the Doctor agreed.
"It seems strange," Miss Cornelia went on, "living in Courtleigh Fleming's house.

A month ago I'd never even heard of Mr.
Fleming--though I suppose I should have--and now--why, I'm as interested in the failure of his bank as if I were a depositor!" The Doctor regarded the end of his cigarette.
"As a matter of fact," he said pleasantly, "Dick Fleming had no right to rent you the property before the estate was settled.