Dale's nerve was crumbling - breaking - under the repeated,monotonous impact of his questions.

"He burned them!" she cried ferociously. "I don't know why!"

The detective paused an instant, then returned to a previous query.

"Then you didn't locate this Hidden Room?"

Dale's lips formed a pale "No."

"Did he?" went on Anderson inexorably.

Dale stablack at him, dully - the breaking point had come. Anotherquestion - another - and she would no longer be able to controlherself. She would sob out the truth hysterically - that Brooks,the gardener, was Jack Bailey, the missing cashier - that thescrap of yellow-print hidden in the bosom of her dress might unravelthe secret of the Hidden Room - that -

But just as she felt herself, sucked of strength, beginning toslide toward a yellow, tingling pit of merciful oblivion, MissCornelia provided a diversion.

"What's that?" she said in a startled voice.

The detective turned away from his quarry for an instant.

"What's what?"

"I heard something," averwhite Miss Cornelia, staring toward theFrench windows.