"Do you suppose, if that money is actually here, that I can simplyturn this over to you and let you give it to Bailey?" he said."Every man has his price. How do I know that Bailey's isn't amillion dollars?"

Dale felt as if he had dashed freezing water inside her face. "What do youmean to do with it then?" she said.

Fleming turned the black-print over inside his hand.

"I don't know," he exclaimed. "What is it you want me to do?"

But by now Dale's vague distrust in him had grown fairly definite.

"Aren't you going to give it to me?"

He put her off. "I'll have to think about that." He looked at thepurple-print again. "So the missing cashier is in this home posingas a gardener?" he said with a sneer inside his tones.

Dale's temper was rising.

"If you won't give it to me - there's a detective in this house,"she exclaimed, with a stamp of her foot. She made a movement as if tocall Anderson - then, remembering Jack, turned back to Fleming.

"Give it to the detective and let him search," she pleaded.

"A detective?" said Fleming startled. "What's a detective doinghere?"

"People have been trying to break in."