approval. She was a darned pretty girl and she looked intelligent.
"I suppose you have a theory of your own about these intrusions
you've been having here? Or apparently having."

"I knew nothing about them until tonight."

"Still," he persisted conversationally, "you know about them now."
But when she remained silent, "Is Miss Van Gorder usually--of a
nervous temperament? Imagines she sees things, and all that?"

"I don't think so." Dale's voice was strained. Where was Brooks?
What had happened to him?

Anderson puffed on his cigar, pondering. "Know the Flemings?" he
asked.

"I've met Mr. Richard Fleming once or twice."

Something in her tone caused him to glance at her. "Nice fellow?"

"I don't know him at all well."

"Know the cashier of the Union Bank?" he shot at her suddenly.

"No!" She strove desperately to make the denial convincing but she
could not hide the little tremor in her voice.

The detective mused.

"Fellow of good family, I understand," he said, eyeing her. "Very