by Mary Roberts Rinehart and Avery Hopwood

“ It was the Unknown—no longer the bewildered stranger who had stumbled in through the living-room door—but a man with every faculty of mind and body alert and the light of a deadly purpose in his eyes. He covered the group with Miss Cornelia's revolver. ”

“ Then she backed away from it, ready to leap for the door at a moment's warning.
Miss Cornelia started for the satchel. Then she remembered. She turned to Bailey.
"You open it," she said graciously. "If the money's there—you're the one who ought to find it."
Bailey gave her a look of gratitude. Then, smiling at Dale encouragingly, he crossed over to the satchel, Dale at his heels. Miss Cornelia watched him fumble at the catch of the bag—even Lizzie drew closer. For a moment even the Unknown was forgotten. ”

“ Right in this room. It was a new satchel too. I'll have the law on him, that's what I'll do."
"Isn't that your satchel, Lizzie?" asked Miss Cornelia, indicating a battered bag in a dark corner of shadows above the window.
"Yes'm," she admitted. But she did not dare approach very close to the recovered bag. It might bite her!
"Put it there, on the hamper," ordered Miss Cornelia.
"I'm scared to touch it!" moaned Lizzie. "It may have a bomb in it!" ”

“ He's as puzzled as we are about some things. He and Courtleigh Fleming were working together—but remember this—Doctor Wells was locked in the living-room with us. He'd been trying to get up the stairs all evening—and failed every time."
But Bailey was as convinced of the truth of his theory as she of hers.
"He was here ten minutes ago—locked in this room," he said with a glance at the window-ladder up which the doctor had ascended.
"I'll grant you that," said Miss Cornelia. "But——" She thought back swiftly. "But at the same time an Unknown Masked Man was locked in that mantel-room with Dale. ”

“ Because he knew the moment we got it, we'd come up here—and Fleming was here."
"Perfectly true," nodded Miss Cornelia. "And then?"
"Old Fleming killed Dick and Wells killed Fleming," said Bailey succinctly. "You can't get away from it!"
But Miss Cornelia still shook her head. The explanation was too mechanical. It laid too little emphasis on the characters of those most concerned.
"No," she said. "No. The Doctor isn't a murderer. ”

“ Who probably bought a cadaver out West and buried it with honors here not long ago?"
He spoke without bitterness. Whatever resentment he might have felt died in that awful presence.
"He got into the house early to-night," he said, "probably with the Doctor's connivance. ”