The detective took three swift steps into the alcove, glanced about
it searchingly. He indicated the stairs.

"That is not the main staircase?"

"No, the main staircase is out there," Miss Cornelia waved her hand
in the direction of the hall.

The detective came out of the alcove and paused by the French windows.

"I think there must be a conspiracy between the Architects'
Association and the Housebreakers' Union these days," he said grimly.
"Look at all that glass. All a burglar needs is a piece of putty
and a diamond-cutter to break in."

"But the curious thing is," continued Miss Cornelia, "that whoever
got into the house evidently had a key to that door." Again she
indicated the terrace door, but Anderson did not seem to be listening
to her.

"Hello--what's this?" he said sharply, his eye lighting on the
broken glass below the shattered French window. He picked up a piece
of glass and examined it.

Dale cleared her throat. "It was broken from the outside a few
minutes ago," she said.

"The outside?" Instantly the detective had pulled aside a blind and
was staring out into the darkness.