by Mary Roberts Rinehart and Avery Hopwood

“ The Doctor nodded. "Yes."
"Have you a pocket-flash, Doctor?" she asked him suddenly.
"Why—yes——" The Doctor did not seem to perceive the significance of the query. "A flashlight is more important to a country doctor than—castor oil," he added, with a little smile.
Miss Cornelia decided upon an experiment. She turned to Dale.
"Dale, you said you saw a white light shining down from above?"
"Yes," said Dale in a minor voice.
Miss Cornelia rose.
"May I borrow your flashlight, Doctor? Now that fool detective is out of the way," she continued somewhat acidly, "I want to do something." ”

“ Dale started. She had not remembered the cap—why hadn't she burned it—concealed it—as she had concealed the blue-print? She passed a hand over her forehead wearily.
Miss Cornelia watched her niece.
"It you're keeping anything back, Dale—tell him," she said.
The detective turned to her with the weary patience of a man wantonly hampered in his search for a piece of necessary information.
"She's keeping something back all right," he said. "She's told part of the truth, but not all." He hammered at Dale again. "You and Fleming located that room by means of a blue-print of the house. ”

“ The Doctor gave her his flashlight with a stare of bewilderment. She took it and moved into the alcove.
"Doctor, I shall ask you to stand at the foot of the small staircase, facing up."
"Now?" queried the Doctor with some reluctance. ”

“ Anderson seemed to be going over the possible means of defense against this new peril.
"No."
"How about you, Beresford?"
Beresford hesitated.
"Yes," he admitted finally. "Always carry one at night in the country." The statement seemed reasonable enough but Miss Cornelia gave him a sharp glance of mistrust, nevertheless.
The detective seemed to have more confidence in the young idler.
"Beresford, will you go with this Jap to the kitchen?" as Billy, grimly clutching his butcher-knife, retraced his steps toward the hall. "If anyone's working at the knob—shoot through the door. ”

“ He snapped his fingers irritatedly, as if recalling some significant incident that had slipped his memory, and drew a battered object from his pocket. "I picked this up, about a hundred feet from the house," he explained. "A man's watch. ”