"No, Mr.
Anderson, granting that she knows where that paper is--and she has not said that she does--I shall want more time and much legal advice before I allow her to turn it over to you." All the unconscious note of command that long-inherited wealth and the pride of a great name can give was in her voice, and the detective, for the moment, bowed before it, defeated.

Perhaps he thought of men who had been broken from the Force for injudicious arrests, perhaps he merely bided his time.

At any rate, he gave up his grilling of Dale for the present and turned to question the Doctor and Beresford who had just returned, with Jack Bailey, from their grim task of placing Fleming's body in a temporary resting place in the library.
"Well, Doctor ?" he grunted.
The Doctor shook his head "Poor fellow--straight through the heart." "Were there any powder marks ?" queried Miss Cornelia.
"No--and the clothing was not burned.

He was apparently shot from some little distance--and I should say from above." The detective received this information without the change of a muscle in his face.

He turned to Beresford--resuming his attack on Dale from another angle.
"Beresford, did Fleming tell you why he came here tonight ?" Beresford considered the question.
"No.