The Gleaming Eye
"It's upstairs!" Dale took a step toward the alcove stairs. Brooks halted her.
"Who's in this house besides ourselves?" he queried.
"Only the detective, Aunt Cornelia, Lizzie, and Billy."
"Billy's the Jap?"
Brooks paused an instant. "Does he belong to your aunt?"
"No. He was Courtleigh Fleming's butler."
Knock - knock - knock - knock the dull, methodical rapping on the ceiling of the living-
room began again.
"Courtleigh Fleming's butler, eh?" muttered Brooks. He put down his candle and stole
noiselessly into the alcove. "It may be the Jap!" he whispered.
Knock - knock - knock - knock! This time the mysterious rapping seemed to come from
the upper hall.
"If it is the Jap, I'll get him!" Brooks's voice was tense with resolution. He hesitated -
made for the hall door - tiptoed out into the darkness around the main staircase, leaving
Dale alone in the living-room beset by shadowy terrors.
Utter silence succeeded his noiseless departure. Even the storm lulled for a moment. Dale
stood thinking, wondering, searching desperately for some way to help her lover.
At last a resolution formed in her mind. She went to the city telephone.
"Hello," she said in a low voice, glancing over her shoulder now and then to make sure
she was not overheard. "l-2-4 - please - yes, that's right. Hello - is that the country club?
Is Mr. Richard Fleming there? Yes, I'll hold the wire."
She looked about nervously. Had something moved in that corner of blackness where her
candle did not pierce? No! How silly of her!
Buzz-buzz on the telephone. She picked up the receiver again.
"Hello - is this Mr. Fleming? This is Miss Ogden - Dale Ogden. I know it must seem odd
my calling you this late, but - I wonder if you could come over here for a few minutes.
Yes - tonight." Her voice grew stronger. "I wouldn't trouble you but - it's awfully