by Mary Roberts Rinehart and Avery Hopwood

“ Where's your revolver, Beresford?"
"I dropped it in the alcove when I caught that man," called Beresford, cursing himself for his carelessness.
The illuminated dial of Bailey's wrist watch flickered in the darkness as he searched for the revolver—a round, glowing spot of phosphorescence.
Lizzie screamed. "The eye! The gleaming eye! I saw on the stairs!" she shrieked, pointing at it frenziedly.
"Quick—there's a candle on the table—light it somebody. Never mind the revolver, I have one!" called Miss Cornelia.
"Righto!" called Beresford cheerily in reply. ”

“ A FEW moments later Jack Bailey, seeing a thin glow of candle-light from the attic above and hearing Lizzie's protesting voice, made his way up there. He found them in the trunk-room, a dusty, dingy apartment lined with high closets along the walls—the floor littered with an incongruous assortment of attic objects—two battered trunks, a clothes hamper, an old sewing machine, a broken-backed kitchen-chair, two dilapidated suitcases and a shabby satchel that might once have been a woman's dressing-case—in one corner a grimy fireplace in which, obviously, no fire had been lighted for years. ”

“ When he had finished he turned patiently toward the billiard room—the little flame of his candle was swallowed up in its dark recesses—he closed the door of the living-room behind him. The storm was dying away now, but a few flashes of lightning still flickered, lighting up the darkness of the deserted living-room now and then with a harsh, brief glare.
A lightning flash—a shadow cast abruptly on the shade of one of the French windows, to disappear as abruptly as the flash was blotted out—the shadow of a man—a prowler—feeling his way through the lightning-slashed darkness to the terrace door. ”

“ A brave man may be willing to fight with odds a hundred to one—but only a fool will rush on certain death. Reluctantly, dejectedly, Bailey obeyed—stuffed the money back in the satchel and replaced the latter in its corner of shadows near the window.
"It's the Bat—it's the Bat!" whispered Lizzie eerily, and, for once her gloomy prophecies seemed to be in a fair way of justification, for "Blow out that candle!" commanded the Unknown sternly, and, after a moment of hesitation on Miss Cornelia's part, the room was again plunged in darkness except for the red glow at the window. ”

“ But the Unknown made no such movement. He gazed at Anderson, apparently with the greatest bewilderment—then his eyes cleared—he seemed to be about to remember who the detective was.
"You're—the—Doctor—I—saw—downstairs—aren't you?" he said innocently. The detective set his jaw. He started off on a new tack.
"Does this belong to you?" he said suddenly, plucking from his pocket the battered gold watch that Beresford had found and waving it before the Unknown's blank face.
The Unknown stared at it a moment, as a child might stare at a new toy, with no gleam of recognition. ”

“ A little wind wailed somewhere in that darkness like a beaten child—beyond the hills thunder rumbled, drawing near, and with it lightning and the storm.
She made herself sit down in the chair beside her favorite lamp on the center table and take up her knitting with stiff fingers. "Knit two—purl two—" her hands fell into the accustomed rhythm mechanically—a spy, peering in through the French windows, would have deemed her the picture of calm. But she had never felt less calm in all the long years of her life.
She wouldn't ring for Lizzie to come and sit with her—she simply wouldn't. ”

“ She nodded. "And the new bolt you put on to-day makes it fairly secure. One thing is fairly sure, Billy. If anyone tries to get in to-night, he will have to break a window and make a certain amount of noise."
But he only smiled his curious enigmatic smile and went out. And no sooner had Miss Cornelia seated herself when the door of the billiard room slammed open suddenly and Lizzie burst into the room as if she had been shot from a gun—her hair wild—her face stricken with fear. ”

“ 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. ”

“ For an instant the ringing of the bell held the various figures of the little scene in the rigid postures of a waxworks tableau—Bailey, one foot advanced toward Beresford, his hands balled up into fists—Beresford already in an attitude of defense—the detective about to step in between them—Miss Cornelia stiff in her chair—Dale over by the fireplace, her hand at her heart. ”

“ Some day the Bat would slip and falter—then they would have him. But the weeks passed into months and still the Bat flew free, solitary, untamed, and deadly. At last even his own kind turned upon him; the underworld is like the upper in its fear and distrust of genius that flies alone. But when they turned against him, they turned against a spook—a shadow. ”

“ Were old wives' tales and witches' fables true after all? Did a power—merciless—evil—exists outside the barriers of the flesh—blasting that trembling flesh with a cold breath from beyond the portals of the grave? There seemed to be no other explanation.
"You men stay here!" said the detective. "I want to ask you some questions." He doggedly returned to his third-degreeing of Dale.
"Now what about this blue-print?" he queried sharply.
Dale stiffened in her chair. Her lies had failed. Now she would tell a portion of the truth, as much of it as she could without menacing Jack. ”

“ But it was not until Miss Cornelia took the candle and proceeded toward the hall door to examine it that the full horror of the situation burst upon them.
Neatly fastened to the white panel of the door, chest high and hardly more than just dead, was the body of a bat.
Of what happened thereafter no one afterwards remembered the details. To be shut in there at the mercy of one who knew no mercy was intolerable. It was left for Miss Cornelia to remember her own revolver, lying unnoticed on the table since the crime earlier in the evening, and to suggest its use in shattering the lock. ”

“ The Doctor gave him a dignified stare.
"Miss Van Gorder has already explained."
Miss Cornelia elucidated. "Mr. Anderson has already formed a theory of the crime," she said with a trace of sarcasm in her tones.
The detective turned on her quickly. "I haven't said that." He started.
It had come again—tinkling—persistent—the phone-call from nowhere—the ringing of the bell of the house-telephone!
"The house telephone—again!" breathed Dale. Miss Cornelia made a movement to answer the tinkling, inexplicable bell. But Anderson was before her.
"I'll answer that!" he barked. He sprang to the phone. ”

“ And out in the world people were murdering and robbing each other—floating over Niagara Falls in barrels—rescuing children from burning houses—taming tigers—going to Africa to hunt gorillas—doing all sorts of exciting things! She could not float over Niagara Falls in a barrel—Lizzie Allen, her faithful old maid, would never let her! She could not go to Africa to hunt gorillas—Sally Ogden, her sister, would never let her hear the last of it. She could not even, as she certainly would if she were a man, try and track down this terrible creature, the Bat! ”

“ But Jack Bailey said nothing at all. One glance had shown him that the safe was empty.
The tragic collapse of all their hopes was almost more than they could bear. Coming on top of the nerve-racking events of the night, it left them dazed and direction-less. It was, of course, Miss Cornelia who recovered first.
"Even without the money," she said; "the mere presence of this safe here, hidden away, tells the story. The fact that someone else knew and got here first cannot alter that."
But she could not cheer them. It was Lizzie who created a diversion. ”

“ She went to the closet and opened the door.
Whatever faults Miss Cornelia may have had, lack of courage was not one of them—or the ability to withstand a stunning mental shock. Had it been otherwise she might well have crumpled to the floor, as if struck down by an invisible hammer, the moment the closet-door swung open before her.
Huddled on the floor of the closet was the body of a man. ”

“ The Doctor, once more the physician, knelt at her side and felt for her pulse. And Lizzie, picking herself up from where the collision with some violent body had thrown her, retrieved the smelling salts from the floor. It was onto this picture, the candle-light shining on strained faces, the dramatic figure of Dale, now semi-conscious, the desperate rage of Bailey, that a new actor appeared on the scene.
Anderson, the detective, stood in the doorway, holding a candle—as grim and menacing a figure as a man just arisen from the dead. ”

“ In tawdrily gorgeous apartments, where gathered the larger figures, the proconsuls of the world of crime, cold, conscienceless brains dissected the work of a colder and swifter brain than theirs, with suave and bitter envy. Evil's Four Hundred chattered, discussed, debated—sent out a thousand invisible tentacles to clutch at a shadow—to turn this shadow and its distorted genius to their own ends. The tentacles recoiled, baffled—the Bat worked alone—not even Evil's Four Hundred could bend him into a willing instrument to execute another's plan. ”

“ And Beresford flung open the door.
Just what they had expected, what figure of horror or of fear they waited for, no one can say. But there was no horror and no fear; only unutterable amazement as an unknown man, in torn and muddied garments, with a streak of dried blood seaming his forehead like a scar, fell through the open doorway into Beresford's arms.
"Good God!" muttered Beresford, dropping his revolver to catch the strange burden. For a moment the Unknown lay in his arms like a corpse. ”

“ Even as Dale turned to face the assembled household, the house-lights, extinguished since the storm, came on in full brilliance—revealing her to them, standing beside Fleming's body with Miss Cornelia's revolver between them.
She shuddered, seeing Fleming's arm flung out awkwardly by his side. No living man could lie in such a posture. ”

“ Out behind the flower garden the ruins of the garage and her beloved car were still smoldering; a cool night wind came through the broken window-pane where not so long before the bloody hand of the injured detective had intruded itself. On the door to the hall, still fastened as the Bat had left it, was the pathetic little creature with which the Bat had signed a job, for once, before he had completed it.
But calmly and dispassionately Miss Cornelia worked out the cross-word puzzle of the evening and announced her results.
"It is all clear," she said. "Of course the Doctor had the blue-print. ”

“ Lizzie was saying.
Miss Cornelia touched the ouija-board. "That thing certainly spelled Bat," she remarked. "I wish I were a man. I'd like to see any lawyer, Doctor, or merchant of my acquaintance leading a double life without my suspecting it."
"Every man leads a double life and some more than that," Lizzie observed. "I guess it rests them, like it does me to take off my corset."
Miss Cornelia opened her mouth to rebuke her but just at that moment there, was a clink of ice from the hall, and Billy, the Japanese, entered carrying a tray with a pitcher of water and some glasses on it. ”

“ I've got a clear night to work in—and as true as I'm standing here, that money's in this house. Listen, honey—it's like this." He pantomimed the old nursery rhyme of The House that Jack Built, "Here's the house that Courtleigh Fleming built—here, somewhere, is the Hidden Room in the house that Courtleigh Fleming built—and here—somewhere—pray Heaven—is the money—in the Hidden Room—in the house that Courtleigh Fleming built. When you're low in your mind, just say that over!" ”

“ Miss Cornelia rose with a snort of disdain and faced him. "Young man, urticaria is hives—rubeola is measles—and alopecia is baldness!" she thundered. She waited a moment for his defense—none came.
"Why did you tell me you were a professional gardener?" she went on accusingly. "Why have you come here at this hour of night pretending to be something you're not?"
By all standards of drama the young man should have wilted before her wrath, Instead he suddenly smiled at her, boyishly, and threw up his hands in a gesture of defeat. ”

“ Miss Cornelia chuckled. "Of course there are bats," she said. "There are always bats in the country. They're perfectly harmless—except to switches."
"And the Bat ye were talking of just then—he's harmless too, I suppose?" said Lizzie with mournful satire. "Oh, Miss Neily, Miss Neily—do let's go back to the city before he flies away with us all!"
"Nonsense, Lizzie," said Miss Cornelia again, but this time less firmly. Her face grew serious. "If I thought for an instant that there was any real possibility of our being in danger here—" she said slowly. "But—oh, look at the map, Lizzie! ”

“ Miss Van Gorder dropped the revolver like a hot potato and opened her mouth to tell Lizzie not to be such a fool. Then she saw Dale—her mouth went into a round O of horror and her hand clutched weakly at her heart.
"Good heavens, child!" she gasped. "Didn't Billy tell you what I was doing? I might have shot you like a rabbit!" and, overcome with emotion, she sat down on the ground and started to fan herself mechanically with a cartridge.
Dale couldn't help laughing—and the longer she looked at her aunt the more she laughed—until that dignified lady joined in the mirth herself. ”

“ Miss Cornelia, too, had been pondering the problem of the Unknown. She reached a swift decision. If he were what he pretended to be—a dazed wanderer—he could do them no harm. If he were not—a little strategy properly employed might unravel the whole mystery.
"Bring him up here, Billy," she said, turning to the butler.
Billy started to obey. But the darkness of the corridor seemed to appall him anew, the moment he took a step toward it.
"You give candle, please?" he asked with a pleading expression. "Don't like dark." ”

“ Miss Cornelia smiled.
"Well, Doctor—I'll say good night now—and thank you very much," she said, extending her hand to the Doctor, who bowed over it silently. "Don't keep this young lady up too late—she looks tired." She flashed a look at Dale who stood staring out at the night.
"I'll only smoke a cigarette," promised the Doctor. Once again his voice had a note of plea in it. "You won't change your mind?" he asked anew.
Miss Van Gorder's smile was obdurate. "I have a great deal of mind," she said. "It takes a long time to change it." ”

“ Experience should have taught him never to underrate an adversary—even of the Doctor's caliber—but long familiarity with danger can make the shrewdest careless. For a moment, as he bent over the paper again, he was off guard.
The Doctor seized the moment with a savage promptitude and sprang. There followed a silent, furious struggle between the two. Under normal circumstances, Anderson would have been the stronger and quicker, but the Doctor fought with an added strength of despair and his initial leap had pinioned the detective's arms behind him. ”

“ The three waited—Dale in an agony of suspense.
The detective reëntered the room by the alcove-stairs, his mien unfathomable by any of the anxious glances that sought him out at once.
"It's no good, Miss Van Gorder," he said quietly. "The prints are not the same."
"Not the same!" gasped Miss Cornelia, unwilling to believe her ears.
Anderson laid down the paper and the reading-glass with a little gesture of dismissal.
"If you think I'm mistaken, I'll leave it to any unprejudiced person or your own eyesight. Thumb-prints never lie," he said in a flat, convincing voice. ”

“ She couldn't have shot Fleming of course—and yet—unless he and Billy found something to substantiate her story of how the killing had happened—it was her own, unsupported word against a damning mass of circumstantial evidence. He plunged with renewed vigor into his quest.
Back in the living-room, as he had feared, Anderson was subjecting Dale to a merciless interrogation.
"Now I want the real story!" he began with calculated brutality. "You lied before!"
"That's no tone to use! You'll only terrify her," cried Miss Cornelia indignantly. ”

“ A new cook and housemaid were promised for the end of the week—but for the next three days the Japanese butler, Billy, and Lizzie between them would have to bear the brunt of the service. "Oh, yes—and then there's Dale's gardener, if she gets one," thought Miss, Cornelia. "I wish he could cook—but I don't suppose gardeners can—and Billy's a treasure. Still, its inconvenient—now, stop,—Cornelia Van Gorder—you were asking for an adventure only this morning and the moment the littlest sort of one comes along, you want to crawl out of it." ”

“ There ain't a surer token of death! The Bible says, 'Let your light shine'—and when a hand you can't see puts your lights out—good night!"
She ended in a hushed whisper and even Billy looked a trifle uncomfortable after her climax.
"Well, now that you've cheered us up," began Miss Cornelia undauntedly, but a long, ominous roll of thunder that rattled the panes in the French windows drowned out the end of her sentence. Nevertheless she welcomed the thunder as a diversion. At least its menace was a physical one—to be guarded against by physical means. ”

“ The repartee silenced Lizzie for the moment—but only for the moment. As soon as Miss Cornelia had settled herself comfortably and tried to make her mind a suitable receiving station for ouija messages, Lizzie began to mumble the sorrows of her heart.
"I've stood by you through thick and thin," she mourned in a low voice. "I stood by you when you were a vegetarian—I stood by you when you were a theosophist—and I seen you through socialism, Fletcherism and rheumatism—but when it comes to carrying on with ghosts——"
"Be still!" ordered Miss Cornelia. "Nothing will come if you keep chattering!" ”

“ No, Miss Neily, it was a man—seven feet tall he was, and eyes that shone in the dark and——"
"Lizzie Allen!"
"Well, it's true for all that," insisted Lizzie stubbornly. "And why did the lights go out—tell me that, Miss Neily? They never go out in the city."
"Well, this isn't the city," said Miss Cornelia decisively. "It's the country—and very nice it is—and we're staying here all summer. I suppose I may be thankful," she went on ironically, "that it was only your grandmother you saw last night. It might have been the Bat—and then where would you be this morning?" ”