Lizzie rose.
"I'm going!" she announced. "I don't know where, but I'm going!"
She took a wild step in the direction of the door. Then the flapping noise was all about her, her nose was bumped by an invisible object and she gave a horrified shriek.
"It's in my hair!" she screamed madly. "It's in my hair!"
The next instant Bailey gave a triumphant cry.
"I've got it! It's a bat!"
Lizzie sank to her knees, still moaning, and Bailey carried the cause of the trouble over to the window and threw it out.
But the result of the absurd incident was a further destruction of their morale. Even Beresford, so far calm with the quiet of the virtuous onlooker, was now pallid in the light of the matches they successively lighted. And onto this strained situation came at last Billy and the Unknown.
The Unknown still wore his air of dazed bewilderment, true or feigned, but at least he was now able to walk without support. They stared at him, at his tattered, muddy garments, at the threads of rope still clinging to his ankles—and wondered. He returned their stares vacantly.
"Come in," began Miss Cornelia. "Sit down." He obeyed both commands docilely enough.
"Are you better now?"
"Somewhat." His words still came very slowly.
"Billy—you can go."
"I stay, please!" said Billy wistfully, making no movement to leave. His gesture toward the darkness of the corridor spoke louder than words.
Bailey watched him, suspicion dawning in his eyes. He could not account for the butler's inexplicable terror of being left alone.
"Anderson intimated that the Doctor had an accomplice in this house," he said, crossing to Billy and taking him by the arm. "Why isn't this the man?" Billy cringed away. "Please, no," he begged pitifully.
Bailey turned him around so that he faced the Hidden Room.
"Did you know that room was there?" he questioned, his doubts still unquieted.
Billy shook his head.
"No."
"He couldn't have locked us in," said Miss Cornelia. "He was with us."
Bailey demurred, not to her remark itself, but to its implication of Billy's entire innocence.
"He may know who did it. Do you?"
Billy still shook his head.
Bailey remained unconvinced.
"Who did you see at the head of the small staircase?" he queried imperatively. "Now we're through with nonsense; I want the truth!"
Billy shivered.
"See face—that's all," he brought out at last.
"Whose face?"
Again it was evident that Billy knew or thought he knew more than he was willing to tell.
"Don't know," he said with obvious untruth, looking down at the floor.
"Never mind, Billy," cut in Miss Cornelia. To her mind questioning Billy was wasting time. She looked at the Unknown.
"Solve the mystery of this man and we may get at the facts," she said in accents of conviction.
As Bailey turned toward her questioningly, Billy attempted to steal silently out of the door, apparently preferring any fears that might lurk in the darkness of the corridor to a further grilling on the subject of whom or what he had seen on the alcove stairs. But Bailey caught the movement out of the tail of his eye.
"You stay here," he commanded. Billy stood frozen. Beresford raised the candle so that it cast its light full in the Unknown's face.
"This chap claims to have lost his memory," he said dubiously. "I suppose a blow on the head might do that, I don't know."
"I wish somebody would knock me on the head! I'd like to forget a few things!" moaned Lizzie, but the interruption went unregarded.
"Don't you even know your name?" queried Miss Cornelia of the Unknown.
The Unknown shook his head with a slow, laborious gesture.
"Not—yet."
"Or where you came from?"
Once more the battered head made its movement of negation.
"Do you remember how you got in this house?" The Unknown made an effort.
"Yes—I—remember—that—all—right" he said, apparently undergoing an enormous strain in order to make himself speak at all. He put his hand to his head.
"My—head—aches—to—beat—the—band," he continued slowly.
Miss Cornelia was at a loss. If this were acting, it was at least fine acting.
"How did you happen to come to this house?" she persisted, her voice unconsciously tuning itself to the slow, laborious speech of the Unknown.
"Saw—the—lights."
Bailey broke in with a question.
"Where were you when you saw the lights?"
The Unknown wet his lips with his tongue, painfully.
"I—broke—out—of—the—garage," he said at length. This was unexpected. A general movement of interest ran over the group.
"How did you get there?" Beresford took his turn as questioner.
The Unknown shook his head, so slowly and deliberately that Miss Cornelia's fingers itched to shake him in spite of his injuries.
"I—don't—know."
"Have you been robbed?" queried Bailey with keen suspicion.
The Unknown mumbled something unintelligible. Then he seemed to get command of his tongue again.
"Everything gone—out of—my pockets," he said.
"Including your watch?" pursued Bailey, remembering the watch that Beresford had found in the grounds.
The Unknown would neither affirm nor deny.
"If—I—had—a—watch—it's gone," he said with maddening deliberation. "All my—papers—are gone."
Miss Cornelia pounced upon this last statement like a cat upon a mouse.
"How do you know you had papers?" she asked sharply.
For the first time the faintest flicker of a smile seemed to appear for a moment on the Unknown's features. Then it vanished as abruptly as it had come.
"Most men—carry papers—don't they?" he asked, staring blindly in front of him. "I'm dazed—but—my mind's—all—right. If you—ask me—I—think—I'm—d-damned funny!"
He gave the ghost of a chuckle. Bailey and Beresford exchanged glances.
"Did you ring the house phone?" insisted Miss Cornelia.
The Unknown nodded.
"Yes."
Miss Cornelia and Bailey gave each other a look of wonderment.
"I—leaned against—the button—in the garage—" he went on. "Then—I think—maybe I—fainted. That's—not clear."
His eyelids drooped. He seemed about to faint again.
Dale rose, and came over to him, with a sympathetic movement of her hand.
"You don't remember how you were hurt?" she asked gently.
The Unknown stared ahead of him, his eyes filming, as if he were trying to puzzle it out.
"No,"