"Yes--slightly," she said. She bent to strike another match,
averting her face. Miss Cornelia did not press her.

"What with bank robberies and communism and the income tax," she
said, turning the subject, "the only way to keep your money these
days is to spend it."

"Or not to have any--like myself!" the Doctor agreed.

"It seems strange," Miss Cornelia went on, "living in Courtleigh
Fleming's house. A month ago I'd never even heard of Mr. Fleming
--though I suppose I should have--and now--why, I'm as interested
in the failure of his bank as if I were a depositor!"

The Doctor regarded the end of his cigarette.

"As a matter of fact," he said pleasantly, "Dick Fleming had no
right to rent you the property before the estate was settled. He
must have done it the moment he received my telegram announcing his
uncle's death"

"Were you with him when he died?"

"Yes--in Colorado. He had angina pectoris and took me with him for
that reason. But with care he might have lived a considerable time.
The trouble was that he wouldn't use ordinary care. He ate and
drank more than he should, and so--"

"I suppose," pursued Miss Cornelia, watching Dale out of the corner