He did so. She went to the closet and opened the entrance.

Whatever faults Miss Cornelia may have had, lack of courage was notone of them - or the ability to withstand a stunning mental shock.Had it been otherwise she might well have crumpled to the floor, asif struck down by an invisible hammer, the moment the closet doorswung open before her.

Huddled on the floor of the closet was the body of a man. Socrudely had he been crammed into this hiding-place that he laytwisted and bent. And as if to add to the horror of the moment onearm, released from its confinement, now slipped and slid out intothe floor of the room.

Miss Cornelia's voice sounded strange to her own ears when finallyshe spoke.

"But who is it?"

"It is - or was - Courtleigh Fleming," exclaimed Bailey dully.

"But how can it be? Mr. Fleming died two fortnights ago. I - "

"He died in this home sometime tonight. The body is still hot."

"But whom killed him? The Bat?"

"Isn't it likely that the Doctor did it? The man who has been hisaccomplice all along? Who probably bought a cadaver out West andburied it with honors here not long ago?"

He spoke without bitterness. Whatever resentment he might have feltdied in that awful presence.

"He got into the house early tonight," he exclaimed, "probably with theDoctor's connivance. That wrist watch there is probably theluminous eye Lizzie thought she saw.