Dale, listening, could not repress a shudder at the gruesome picture--and Miss Cornelia's hands gave an involuntary twitch as her knitting needles clicked together. Anderson seemed by no means unconscious of the effect he had created.
"How many people in this house, Miss Van Gorder?"
"My niece and myself." Miss Cornelia indicated Dale, who had picked up her wrap and was starting to leave the room. "Lizzie Allen--who has been my personal maid ever since I was a child--the Japanese butler, and the gardener. The cook and the housemaid left this morning--frightened away."
She smiled as she finished her description. Dale reached the door and passed slowly out into the hall. The detective gave her a single, sharp glance as she made her exit. He seemed to think over the factors Miss Cornelia had mentioned.
"Well," he said, after a slight pause, "you can have a good night's sleep tonight. I'll stay right here in the dark and watch."
"Would you like some coffee to keep you awake?"
Anderson nodded. "Thank you." His voice sank lower. "Do the servants know who I am?"
"Only Lizzie, my maid."
His eyes fixed hers. "I wouldn't tell anyone I'm remaining up all night," he said.
A formless fear rose in Miss Cornelia's mind. "You don't suspect my household?" she said in a low voice.
He spoke with emphasis--all the more pronounced because of the quietude of his tone.
"I'm not taking any chances," he said determinedly.