"I think I see the answer to your puzzle, Miss Van Gorder," he said, with a scornful glance at Lizzie.
"A hysterical and not very reliable woman, anxious to go back to the city and terrified over and over by the shutting off of the electric lights." If looks could slay, his characterization of Lizzie would have laid him dead at her feet at that instant.

Miss Van Gorder considered his theory.
"I wonder," she said.
The detective rubbed his hands together more cheerfully.
"A good night's sleep and--" he began, but the irrepressible Lizzie interrupted him.
"My God, we're not going to bed, are we ?" she said, with her eyes as big as saucers.
He gave her a kindly pat on the shoulder, which she obviously resented.
"You'll feel better in the morning," he said.

"Lock your door and say your prayers, and leave the rest to me." Lizzie muttered something inaudible and rebellious, but now Miss Cornelia added her protestations to his.
"That's very good advice," she said decisively.

"You take her, Dale." Reluctantly, with a dragging of feet and scared glances cast back over her shoulder, Lizzie allowed herself to be drawn toward the door and the main staircase by Dale.

But she did not depart without one Parthian shot.
"I'm not going to bed!" she wailed as Dale's strong young arm helped her out into the hall.