“And you came here to telephone about your car?” persisted the detective.

Dale rose from her chair with a hopeless little sigh.  “Oh, don’t you see—­he’s trying to protect me,” she said wearily.  She turned to the young man.  “It’s no use, Mr. Beresford.”

Beresford’s air of flippancy vanished.

“I see,” he said.  He turned to the other, frankly.  “Well, the plain truth is—­I didn’t know the situation and I thought I’d play safe for Miss Ogden’s sake.”

Miss Cornelia moved over to her niece protectingly.  She put a hand on Dale’s shoulder to reassure her.  But Dale was quite composed now—­she had gone through so many shocks already that one more or less seemed to make very little difference to her overwearied nerves.  She turned to Anderson calmly.

“He doesn’t know anything about—­this,” she said, indicating Beresford.  “He brought Mr. Fleming here in his car—­that’s all.”

Anderson looked to Beresford for confirmation.

“Is that true?”

“Yes,” said Beresford.  He started to explain.  “I got tired of waiting and so I—­”

The detective broke in curtly.

“All right.”

He took a step toward the alcove.

“Now, Doctor.”  He nodded at the huddle beneath the raincoat.  Beresford followed his glance—­and saw the ominous heap for the first time.

“What’s that?” he said tensely.  No one answered him.  The Doctor was already on his knees beside the body, drawing the raincoat gently aside.  Beresford stared at the shape thus revealed with frightened eyes.  The color left his face.

“That’s not—­Dick Fleming—­is it?” he said thickly.  Anderson slowly nodded his head.  Beresford seemed unable to believe his eyes.

“If you’ve looked over the ground,” said the Doctor in a low voice to Anderson, “I’ll move the body where we can have a better light.”  His right hand fluttered swiftly over Fleming’s still, clenched fist —­extracted from it a torn corner of paper....

Still Beresford did not seem to be able to take in what had happened.  He took another step toward the body.

“Do you mean to say that Dick Fleming—­” he began.  Anderson silenced him with an uplifted hand.

“What have you got there, Doctor?” he said in a still voice.

The Doctor, still on his knees beside the corpse, lifted his head.

“What do you mean?”

“You took something, just then, out of Fleming’s hand,” said the detective.

“I took nothing out of his hand,” said the Doctor firmly.

Anderson’s manner grew peremptory.

“I warn you not to obstruct the course of justice!” he said forcibly.  “Give it here!”

The Doctor rose slowly, dusting off his knees.  His eyes tried to meet Anderson’s and failed.  He produced a torn corner of blue-print.

“Why, it’s only a scrap of paper, nothing at all,” he said evasively.