Miss Cornelia resented his offhand demolition of the mental
card-castle she had erected with such pride.

"I have read a great deal on the detection of crime," she said hotly,
"and--"

"Well, we all have our little hobbies," he said tolerantly. "A good
many people rather fancy themselves as detectives and run around
looking for clues under the impression that a clue is a big and vital
factor that sticks up like--well, like a sore thumb. The fact is
that the criminal takes care of the big and important factors. It's
only the little ones he may overlook. To go back to your friend the
Bat, it's because of his skill in little things that he's still at
large."

"Then you don't think there's a chance that the money from the Union
Bank is in this house?" persisted Miss Cornelia.

"I think it very unlikely."

Miss Cornelia put her knitting away and rose. She still clung
tenaciously to her own theories but her belief in them had been
badly shaken.

"If you'll come with me, I'll show you to your room," she said a
little stiffly. The detective stepped back to let her pass.

"Sorry to spoil your little theory," he said, and followed her to
the door. If either had noticed the unobtrusive listener to their
conversation, neither made a sign.