Miss Cornelia was inflexible.

“I’m not going.  You can make up your mind to that.  I’m going to find out what’s wrong with this place if it takes all summer.  I came out to the country for a rest and I’m going to get it.”

“You’ll get your heavenly rest!” mourned Lizzie, giving it up.  She looked pitifully at her mistress’s face for a sign that the latter might be weakening—­but no such sign came.  Instead, Miss Cornelia seemed to grow more determined.

“Besides,” she said, suddenly deciding to share the secret she had hugged to herself all day, “I might as well tell you, Lizzie.  I’m having a detective sent down tonight from police headquarters in the city.”

“A detective?” Lizzie’s face was horrified.  “Miss Neily, you’re keeping something from me!  You know something I don’t know.”

“I hope so.  I daresay he will be stupid enough.  Most of them are.  But at least we can have one proper night’s sleep.”

“Not I. I trust no man,” said Lizzie.  But Miss Cornelia had picked up the paper again.

“‘The Bat’s last crime was a particularly atrocious one,’” she read. “‘The body of the murdered man...’”

But Lizzie could bear no more.

“Why don’t you read the funny page once in a while?” she wailed and hurried to close the windows in the billiard room.  The door leading into the billiard room shut behind her.

Miss Cornelia remained reading for a moment.  Then—­was that a sound from the alcove?  She dropped the paper, went into the alcove and stood for a moment at the foot of the stairs, listening.  No—­ it must have been imagination.  But, while she was here, she might as well put on the spring lock that bolted the door from the alcove to the terrace.  She did so, returned to the living-room and switched off the lights for a moment to look out at the coming storm.  It was closer now—­the lightning flashes more continuous.  She turned on the lights again as Billy re-entered with three candles and a box of matches.

He put them down on a side table.

“New gardener come,” he said briefly to Miss Cornelia’s back.

Miss Cornelia turned.  “Nice hour for him to get here.  What’s his name?”

“Say his name Brook,” said Billy, a little doubtful.  English names still bothered him—­he was never quite sure of them at first.

Miss Cornelia thought.  “Ask him to come in,” she said.  “And Billy —­where are the keys?”

Billy silently took two keys from his pocket and laid them on the table.  Then he pointed to the terrace door which Miss Cornelia had just bolted.

“Door up there—­spring lock,” he said.

“Yes.”  She nodded.  “And the new bolt you put on today makes it fairly secure.  One thing is fairly sure, Billy.  If anyone tries to get in tonight, he will have to break a window and make a certain amount of noise.”

But he only smiled his curious enigmatic smile and went out.  And no sooner had Miss Cornelia seated herself when the door of the billiard room slammed open suddenly and Lizzie burst into the room as if she had been shot from a gun—­her hair wild—­her face stricken with fear.