She had not quite realized, until now, how damningly plausible such an explanation of Fleming's death could sound.

It fitted the evidence perfectly--it took account of every factor but one--the factor left unaccounted for was one which even she herself could not explain.
"Isn't that true ?" demanded Anderson.

Dale already felt the cold clasp of handcuffs on her slim wrists.

What use of denial when every tiny circumstance was so leagued against her?
And yet she must deny.
"I didn't kill him," she repeated perplexedly, weakly.
"Why didn't you call for help?
You--you knew I was here." Dale hesitated.

"I--I couldn't." The moment the words were out of her mouth she knew from his expression that they had only cemented his growing certainty of her guilt.
"Dale! Be careful what you say!" warned Miss Cornelia agitatedly.