Hand or claw? Hand of man or woman or paw of beast? In the name of God--WHOSE HAND?
Miss Cornelia's voice from the head of the stairs broke the silence.
"All right! Put out the lights!"
Dale pressed the switch. Heavy darkness. The sound of her own breathing. A mutter from the Doctor. Then, abruptly, a white, piercing shaft of light cut the darkness of the stairs--horribly reminiscent of that other light-shaft that had signaled Fleming's doom.
"Was it here?" Miss Cornelia's voice came muffledly from the head of the stairs.
Dale considered. "Come down a little," she said. The white spot of light wavered, settled on the Doctor's face.
"I hope you haven't a weapon," the Doctor called up the stairs with an unsuccessful attempt at jocularity.
Miss Cornelia descended another step.
"How's this?"
"That's about right," said Dale uncertainly. Miss Cornelia was satisfied.
"Lights, please." She went up the stairs again to see if she could puzzle out what course of escape the man who had shot Fleming had taken after his crime--if it had been a man.
Dale switched on the living-room lights with a sense of relief. The reconstruction of the crime had tried her sorely. She sat down to recover her poise.
"Doctor! I'm so frightened!" she confessed.
The Doctor at once assumed his best manner of professional reassurance.
"Why, my dear child?" he asked lightly. "Because you happened to be in the room when a crime was committed?"
"But he has a perfect case against me," sighed Dale.
"That's absurd!"
"No."
"YOU DON'T MEAN?" said the Doctor aghast.
Dale looked at him with horror in her face.
"I didn't kill him!" she insisted anew. "But, you know the piece of blue-print you found in his hand?"
"Yes," from the Doctor tensely.
Dale's nerves, too bitterly tested, gave way at last under the strain of keeping her secret. She felt that she must confide in someone or perish. The Doctor was kind and thoughtful--more than that, he was an experienced man of the world--if he could not advise her, who could? Besides, a Doctor was in many ways like a priest--both sworn to keep inviolate the secrets of their respective confessionals.
"There was another piece of blue-print, a larger piece--" said Dale slowly, "I tore it from him just before--"
The Doctor seemed greatly excited by her words. But he controlled himself swiftly.
"Why did you do such a thing?"
"Oh, I'll explain that later," said Dale tiredly, only too glad to be talking the matter out at last, to pay attention to the logic of her sentences. "It's not safe where it is," she went on, as if the Doctor already knew the whole story. "Billy may throw it out or burn it without knowing--"