The tragic collapse of all their hopes was almost more than they could bear.  Coming on top of the nerve-racking events of the night, it left them dazed and directionless.  It was, of course, Miss Cornelia who recovered first.

“Even without the money,” she said; “the mere presence of this safe here, hidden away, tells the story.  The fact that someone else knew and got here first cannot alter that.”

But she could not cheer them.  It was Lizzie who created a diversion.  Lizzie who had bolted into the hall at the first motion of the mantelpiece outward and who now, with equal precipitation, came bolting back.  She rushed into the room, slamming the door behind her, and collapsed into a heap of moaning terror at her mistress’s feet.  At first she was completely inarticulate, but after a time she muttered that she had seen “him” and then fell to groaning again.

The same thought was in all their minds, that in some corner of the upper floor she had come across the body of Anderson.  But when Miss Cornelia finally quieted her and asked this, she shook her head.

“It was the Bat I saw,” was her astounding statement.  “He dropped through the skylight out there and ran along the hall.  I saw him I tell you.  He went right by me!”

“Nonsense,” said Miss Cornelia briskly.  “How can you say such a thing?”

But Bailey pushed forward and took Lizzie by the shoulder.

“What did he look like?”

“He hadn’t any face.  He was all black where his face ought to be.”

“Do you mean he wore a mask?”

“Maybe.  I don’t know.”

She collapsed again but when Bailey, followed by Miss Cornelia, made a move toward the door she broke into frantic wailing.

“Don’t go out there!” she shrieked.  “He’s there I tell you.  I’m not crazy.  If you open that door, he’ll shoot.”

But the door was already open and no shot came.  With the departure of Bailey and Miss Cornelia, and the resulting darkness due to their taking the candle, Lizzie and Dale were left alone.  The girl was faint with disappointment and strain; she sat huddled on a trunk, saying nothing, and after a moment or so Lizzie roused to her condition.

“Not feeling sick, are you?” she asked.

“I feel a little queer.”

“Who wouldn’t in the dark here with that monster loose somewhere near by?” But she stirred herself and got up.  “I’d better get the smelling salts,” she said heavily.  “God knows I hate to move, but if there’s one place safer in this house than another, I’ve yet to find it.”

She went out, leaving Dale alone.  The trunk room was dark, save that now and then as the candle appeared and reappeared the doorway was faintly outlined.  On this outline she kept her eyes fixed, by way of comfort, and thus passed the next few moments.  She felt weak and dizzy and entirely despairing.