Then she dismissed the thought with a shrug.

No chance! She might live in a lonely house, two miles from the railroad station, all summer long--and the Bat would never disturb her.

Nothing ever did.
She had skimmed through the paper hurriedly; now a headline caught her eye.

Failure of Union Bank--wasn't that the bank of which Courtleigh Fleming had been president?
She settled down to read the article but it was disappointingly brief.

The Union Bank had closed its doors; the cashier, a young man named Bailey, was apparently under suspicion; the article mentioned Courtleigh Fleming's recent and tragic death in the best vein of newspaperese.