"Oh, don't bother; it doesn't matter. Only if they have, would you
ask Lizzie to bring me one when she brings up the lemonade? I want
to read about--about the Bat--he fascinates me."

"There was something else in the paper this morning," said Miss
Cornelia idly. "Oh, yes--the Union Bank--the bank Mr. Fleming,
Senior, was president of has failed. They seem to think the cashier
robbed it. Did you see that, Dale?"

The shoulders of the girl on the staircase straightened suddenly.
Then they drooped again. "Yes--I saw it," she said in a queerly
colorless voice. "Too bad. It must be terrible to--to have
everyone suspect you--and hunt you--as I suppose they're hunting
that poor cashier."

"Well," said Miss Cornelia, "a man who wrecks a bank deserves very
little sympathy to my way of thinking. But then I'm old-fashioned.
Well, dear, I won't keep you. Run along--and if you want an
aspirin, there's a box in my top bureau-drawer."

"Thanks, darling. Maybe I'll take one and maybe I won't--all I
really need is to lie down for a while."

She moved on up the staircase and disappeared from the range of
Miss Cornelia's vision, leaving Miss Cornelia to ponder many things.
Her trip to the city had done Dale no good, of a certainty. If not
actually ill, she was obviously under some considerable mental
strain. And why this sudden interest, first in the Bat, then in
the failure of the Union Bank? Was it possible that Dale, too, had
been receiving threatening letters?