if I didn't hit a burglar, I knew I'd hit somebody or something!"
and she gazed with innocent awe directly down the muzzle of her
beloved weapon, then waved it with an airy gesture beneath the
detective's nose.

Anderson gave an involuntary start, then his eyes lit up with grim
mirth.

"Would you mind putting that away?" he said suavely. "I like to
get in the papers as much as anybody, but I don't want to have them
say--omit flowers."

Miss Cornelia gave him a glare of offended pride, but he endured it
with such quiet equanimity that she merely replaced the revolver in
the drawer, with a hurt expression, and waited for him to open the
next topic of conversation.

He finished his preliminary survey of the room and returned to her.

"Now you say you don't think anybody has got upstairs yet?" he
queried.

Miss Cornelia regarded the alcove stairs.

"I think not. I'm a very light sleeper, especially since the papers
have been so full of the exploits of this criminal they call the
Bat. He's in them again tonight." She nodded toward the evening
paper.

The detective smiled faintly.