by Mary Roberts Rinehart and Avery Hopwood

“ 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. ”

“ The fire burned brightly, and the lovers hand in hand sat before it. But Miss Cornelia, bird-like and brisk, sat upright on a chair near by and relived the greatest triumph of her life while she knitted with automatic precision. ”

“ But it was the Bat who held her interest; his daring assumption of the detective's identity, his searching of the house ostensibly for their safety but in reality for the treasure, and that one moment of irresolution when he did not shoot the Doctor at the top of the ladder. And thereafter lost his chance—
It somehow weakened her terrified admiration for him, but she had nothing but acclaim for the escape he had made from the Hidden Room itself.
"That took brains," she said. "Cold, hard brains. ”