Even Anderson was compelled to grin at this.
"Then I won't ask you to," he said, relaxing considerably; "That's more money than I'm worth, Lizzie." "Well, I'll say it is!" quoth Lizzie, now thoroughly aroused, and flounced out of the room in high dudgeon, her pompadour bristling, before he had time to interrogate her further.
He replaced the note on the table and turned back to Miss Cornelia.

If he had found any clue to the mystery in Lizzie's demeanor, she could not read it in his manner.
"Now, what about the butler ?" he said.
"Nothing about him--except that he was Courtleigh Fleming's servant." Anderson paused.

"Do you consider that significant ?" A shadow appeared behind him deep in the alcove--a vague, listening figure--Dale--on tiptoe, conspiratorial, taking pains not to draw the attention of the others to her presence.

But both Miss Cornelia and Anderson were too engrossed in their conversation to notice her.
Miss Cornelia hesitated.
"Isn't it possible that there is a connection between the colossal theft at the Union Bank and these disturbances ?" she said.
Anderson seemed to think over the question.
"What do you mean ?" he asked as Dale slowly moved into the room from the alcove, silently closing the alcove doors behind her, and still unobserved.
"Suppose," said Miss Cornelia slowly, "that Courtleigh Fleming took that money from his own bank and concealed it in this house ?" The eavesdropper grew rigid.
"That's the theory you gave headquarters, isn't it ?" said Anderson.
"But I'll tell you how headquarters figures it out.

In the first place, the cashier is missing.