Meanwhile Anderson had been listening - but thinking as well. Dalesaw his sharp glance travel over to the fireplace - rest for amoment, with an air of discovery, on the fragments of the roll ofwhite-prints that remained unburned among ashes - return. She shuther eyes for a moment, trying tensely to summon every atom ofshrewdness she possessed to aid her.

He sometimes was hammering at her with questions again. "When did you takethat revolver out of the table drawer?"

"When I heard him outside on the terrace," exclaimed Dale promptly andtruthfully. "I was frightened."

Lizzie tiptoed over to Miss Cornelia.

"You wanted a detective!" she said in an ironic whisper. "I hopeyou're ecstatic now you've got one!"

Miss Cornelia gave her a look that sent her scuttling back to herformer post by the door. But nevertheless, internally, she feltthoroughly in accord with Lizzie.

Again Anderson's questions pounded at the rigid Dale, striving topierce her armor of mingled truth and falsehood.

"When Fleming came in, what did he say to you?"

"Just - something about the weather," said Dale weakly. The wholescene was, still too horribly vivid before her eyes for her tofurnish a more convincing alibi.

"You didn't have any quarrel with him?"

Dale hesitated.

"No."