Whispering 
 
 IRES 
 
 Henry Leverage 
 
CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 Gift of 
 Ella Thompson Wright 
 
yiya^£&^u^ A^, ^^^/^ 
 
 CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 
 
 924 074 604 756 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tliis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924074604756 
 
WHISPERING WIRES 
 
OLIVE TELL, IN " WHISPERING WIRES " AT THE 49ST STREET THEATRE 
 
Whispering Wires 
 
 V 
 
 JUDASTED FBOU THE SATUBDAT SVBNING POST BTOia 
 OF THB SAMBITITLE 
 
 BT 
 
 HENRY LEVERAGE 
 
 NEW YORK 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP 
 
 PUBLISHERS 
 
 Midi in iW Unked Stale* ol America 
 
COPYBIGBX, I918, 
 BY 
 
 MOFFAT, YARD & COMPAl^ 
 
 FM eriaUngi September, 1918 
 
 Seamd priBUni September, 1918 
 
 niid grittHnfi.. Octobet 1918 
 
DEDICATE) 
 TO 
 
 ONE WHO BEIf £a> 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTEB PAOB 
 
 I "The Whispeeinq Voice" 1 
 
 II "The Magpie" 15 
 
 III "Thb Man IN Olive-Drab" .... 31 
 
 IV "The Mubdeb" 46 
 
 V "The Fibst Clews" 59 
 
 VI ."Haebt Nichols" 74 
 
 VII "The Spot OB! Black" 89 
 
 VIII "Tangled WiBKs" 107 
 
 IX "Men and MoTiTBs" 124 
 
 X "A Woman Calls" 144 
 
 XI "The Closing Net" 181 
 
 XII "Suspicion Fastens" ...... 202 
 
 XIII "A Silent Peisoneb" 222 
 
 XIV "The Peisoneb Speaks" 239 
 
 XV "The Voice on the Wise" .... 260 
 
 XVI "The End" 277 
 
WHISPERING WIRES 
 
 CHAPTER ONE 
 
 "the TTHISFHEIITG VOICE '* 
 
 IN the greatest dty of the modem world, in 
 the Metropolis of GuUt and Guiler-where 
 Alias and Alibi ride in gxun-shod limousineB 
 ■while Mary Smith of the pure heart walks the 
 pavements with broken shoes— there is a man- 
 sion so rich and so rare that it stands alone. 
 
 Turret and tower, green-bronze roof, Ca- 
 rarra-marbled portico and iron-grilled gates 
 brought from Hyderabad, have made this man- 
 sion the show place and the Peri's paradise for 
 those who parade the Avenue called Fifth, in an 
 tmending sash of fashion. 
 
 Out from this palace at the close of a winter's 
 day, there flashed the tiny pulsations of voice- 
 induced currents of electricity which reached 
 the telephone-central, were plugged upon the 
 proper underground paper-insulated wires and 
 entered, even as the voice was speaking, the 
 cloud-Ltmg office of Detective Drew. 
 
 1 
 
2 WHISPEEING WIEES 
 
 Triggy Drew, as he was called, was dark, 
 stout and forty-one years of age to a month. 
 He crooked his elbow, removed his cigar and 
 pressed the telephone-receiver to his ear. 
 
 The voice that came over the whispering 
 wires was as clear as a bell within a bell. It 
 said: 
 
 "Montgomery Stookbridge wants you." 
 
 Drew hung up the telephone-receiver. He re- 
 placed the cigar in his mouth. He wheeled in 
 his chair and pressed a buzzer. To the opera- 
 tive who entered he said : 
 
 "Delaney, watch things while I'm gone. I'm 
 called up-town!" 
 
 The operative reached and handed Drew his 
 coat. He took the swivel-chair before the desk, 
 as his chief clapped on a hat, turned his eyes 
 toward the ground-glass door, and passed out 
 with a brisk stride. 
 
 "It's a big case," said Delaney leaning ba^ 
 "Triggy is on somebody's trail. Maybe Ger- 
 man — ^maybe not!" 
 
 Drew nodded to the waiting operatives in the 
 outer room of the suite. He swung into the 
 hallway with his brown eyes glowing like a 
 man who walked out of realism into romance. 
 
 The elevator plumbed eighteen stories. The 
 corridor was clear. A taxi stood at the curb. 
 Into this Drew stepped, gave the address and 
 was gently seated as the driver released Ms 
 
"THE WmSPEEING VOICE" 3 
 
 brake, set tlie meter, and dropped through first, 
 second and into third speed. 
 
 Past Wall Street the taxi flashed. It rounded 
 toward the Bowery, which showed that the 
 driver knew his map. It struck up through the 
 car tracks, across to Washington Park and there 
 took the long longitude of Fifth Avenue as the 
 shortest and quickest way up-town. 
 
 Drew had no eye for the passera-by. He was 
 repeating two words over and over like a novice 
 counting the same beads. Montgomery Stock- 
 bridge was a name to conjure with in the Bag- 
 dad of Seven Million. He had made many en- 
 emies and much money. His wealth ran well 
 above seven figures. 
 
 The taxi came to a gliding halt. Drew stepped 
 out in front of a church. He tossed the driver 
 two one-dollar bUls and some silver. He waited 
 as the taxi merged in the traffic. He turned and 
 glanced keenly up and down the Avenue. Then 
 he hurried north for one square, paused before 
 the mansion of turrets and towers, and pressed 
 a button which was set in the doorway. 
 
 The door opened to a crack, then wide. A 
 butler barred the way. To him Drew said, ' * Mr. 
 Stockbridge sent for me." 
 
 The butler bowed with old world civility. He 
 took the detective's hat and coat. He waited un- 
 til Drew removed his gloves. He bowed for 
 a second time and led the way over rugs 
 
4: WHISPEEING WIEES 
 
 whose pile was as thick as some Persian tem- 
 ple's. They oame finally, after an aisle of old 
 , masters, to the inner circle of latter-day finance 
 and money-wizardry — ^the celebrated library ef 
 Montgomery Stockbridge. 
 
 The Munition Magnate sat there. He turned 
 as the butler announced the detective. He shot 
 a gray-thatched pair of eyes up and over a ma- 
 hogany table upon which a white envelope lay. 
 He smiled coldly. His thumb jerked toward a 
 leather chair into which Drew sank and leaned 
 his elbows upon the table. 
 
 Stockbridge coughed dryly. He blinked and 
 studied the detective's face for a long minute. 
 He glanced from the envelope up at a cone of 
 rose light which hung from a cluster of electric- 
 globes. His expression, seen in this light, was 
 like an aged lion brought to bay. His wrinkled 
 skin was tawny. His hands coiled and uncoiled 
 like claws. They moved prehensily, as though 
 cobwebs were iu that perfumed air of wealth 
 and security. They poised over the envelope as 
 if to snatch the secret or delusion hidden there. 
 
 "See that letter!" declared the Munitioa 
 Magnate, closing his fist and banging the table. 
 "See it? D'ye see it?" 
 
 Drew widened his eyes at the outburst. !He 
 crossed his legs and nodded. 
 
 "It's blackmail I" Stockbridge snarled. 
 
"THE WmSPEEING VOICE" 5 
 
 "Eank-soented blackmail of the cheapest or- 
 der." 
 
 "A threat of some kind?" 
 
 "Threat? Yes— a threat, in a way. It's 
 clever, but it won't worh with me!" 
 
 Drew recrossed his legs. He touched his 
 short-cropped mustache with the fingers of his 
 right hand. He coughed as iu suggestion. His 
 brows lifted as he studied the envelope from a 
 distance. 
 
 Stockbridge snatched it up suddenly. He 
 slapped it against the edge of the polished table. 
 He turned and found a cigar to his liking out 
 of many ia a humidor beneath a smaller table 
 at the right of his chair. He bit on this cigar, 
 struck a match, and dragged in the smoke with 
 deep inhalings before he turned and opened the 
 envelope, exposing a letter which he rapped 
 with the knuckles of his left hand. 
 
 "I'll beg to be excused," he said half -apolo- 
 getically. "I'm not myself. This letter, you 
 know. I want you to ferret it out. I want you 
 to find out who sent it, and make him or her 
 pay. Make them pay in full ! ' ' 
 
 "May I see it?" 
 
 Stockbridge hesitated. His eyes ran across 
 file paper. His lips curled in an ugly, thin- 
 visaged smile which wrinkled his yellow faog. 
 "See it? T«sl" he snapped, yol^laning ifeie 
 
6 WHISPEEING WIRES 
 
 sheet across tlie table witli a vicious jerk of Ms 
 ■wrist. 
 
 "Eidgewood Cemetery," said Drew lifting 
 the letter. "Heading, Eidgewood Cemetery," 
 he repeated softly. "Dated yesterday," he added 
 with a sly glance at Stockbridge. "Signed by 
 the superintendent, I suppose. Yes, by the su- 
 perintendent. He scrawls worse than I do. 
 "Well, it looks official and smells — ah!" 
 
 Stockbridge worked his brows up and down 
 like a gorilla. /He chewed on his cigar with, 
 savage grinding of gold-filled teeth. 
 
 "Smells graveyardy," continued Drew. **I 
 get flowers and urns and new-turned earth. 
 This seems to be the bare announcement that 
 the grave you ordered dug in the family plot—! 
 is ready and waiting." Drew glanced up. 
 
 "Quite so," sneered the Magnate. 
 
 Drew stroked his upper lip. He turned the 
 letter over. He held it to the rose-light and 
 studied the water-mark. He raised his black 
 brows and said sepulohrally : 
 
 "Who is dead?" 
 
 Stockbridge stiffened. "Dead?" he ex- 
 claimed. "Why, nobody is dead I Damn it,' 
 Drew, there's nobody dead at all!" 
 
 The detective frowned. "Somebody in the 
 immediate family? ' ' he questioned, * ' Somebody 
 you are expecting to pass away soon? Some 
 one on their sick-bed, for instance?" 
 
' ' THE WHISPERING VOICE ' ' 7 
 
 Stockbridge snatched the cigar from his 
 mouth and threw it to the rug. "That let- 
 ter's a stab, Drewl" he exclaimed. "It's a 
 damn insult to me and mine, if you want to 
 know. I'll have the author of it, or know the 
 reason why. I'U spend fifty thousand to catch 
 the miscreants. They 'U not monkey with me I " 
 
 * * The writer of this seems to be the superin- 
 tendent." 
 
 "Yes — ^that part's all right. He knows noth- 
 ing save what you see there. This threat con- 
 cerns Loris and I. We are the only two who 
 will ever be buried in our family plot." 
 
 "What does she know? Has she seen this 
 letter!" 
 
 "Yes!" 
 
 "Knows nothing about it!" 
 
 "Nothing." 
 
 "Has no enemies?" 
 
 "Certainly not! She's just a girl!" The 
 Magnate's eyes softened slightly. He glanced 
 around for a cigar. 
 
 Drew laid the letter on the table. "It seems 
 to me," he said, "that you have not explained 
 everything. When did you get this letter, Mr. 
 Stockbridge? What time did it arrive?" 
 
 * * It came in the late mail last night. I showed 
 it to Loris at supper. Then I called up the 
 cemetery people this morning. Got the super- 
 intendent. He said that *Dr. Conroy' — onr 
 
8 WHISPEEING WIRES 
 
 famdly physician — 'had phoned him and ordered 
 the grave dug.' Said, *A death was about to 
 occur in the Stookbridge family. * Conroy never 
 sent any such message!" 
 
 "Umph!" broke in Drew. 
 
 "Yes I He assured me of it. Was terribly 
 pfut outl" 
 
 "It seems to me," said Drew, "that the en- 
 tire matter is a practical joke of the low order. 
 I see nothing else to it — so far. It isn't even 
 dever." 
 
 "I'm not so sure," Stockbridge said huskily. 
 "It may be very clever. It may mean that 
 death is coming — ^to me or to Loris. There's 
 men in this city who are capable of anything 1" 
 
 The break in the Magnate's voice brought 
 Drew to the edge of his chair. 
 
 "Whom do you suspect?" he asked profes- 
 sionally. "Motive goes before crime — you 
 know. Sometimes a warning is sent — ^more 
 often there is none. Clever men do not tele- 
 graph a blow." 
 
 "I suspect the whole city!" declared Stock- 
 bridge. 
 
 Drew smiled sincerely. It was plainly evident 
 that the Magnate was suffering from the thrust 
 about Loris and the graveyard. The detective 
 had never seen him so unsettled. 
 
 ' * How about Germans T " he asked. * * Tou 've 
 made a lot of ammunition — haven't yon?" 
 
"THE WHISPEEING VOICE" 9 
 
 * * Ye— s. I 've still holdings in Standard Shell, 
 Preferred, and Amalgamated Powder. Also, 
 there is my interest in Flying Boat" 
 
 "Could the Germans be after you for any 
 reason at all?" 
 
 The Magnate weighed the question from a 
 score of angles. He reached and secured a sec- 
 ond cigar. "I don't think so," he said with a 
 dark frown. "I don't think they would bother 
 with me. I'm more or less retired. I've drawn 
 out of a lot of things. Yoimger men are turn- 
 ing out the ammunition now." 
 
 " Then which of your friends might be respon- 
 sible for this letter?" 
 
 "Well put!" exclaimed Stockbridge. 
 "Friends may be right. Friends now, or for- 
 mer friends who have rounded on me." 
 
 "Name some!" 
 
 "There's Morphy!" 
 
 "We settled him. We should never hear from 
 him again." 
 
 "I'm not so sure 1 You don't know him like I 
 know him. He's a vindictive devil! He got ten 
 to twenty years in state prison. You remember 
 the case. He lost his appeal to the Governor, 
 only last week. I blocked it through Tammany 
 affiliations. You know what that fiend in stripes 
 is capable of doing. He would sell his soul to 
 get me!" 
 
 Drew grew serioua. "Yes, I know," he said. 
 
10 WHISPEEINa WIRES 
 
 "Then there is — ^well, there are others. Ten, 
 at least I "What man can rise in this slippery 
 city without pushing a few down the ladder? 
 Wall Street and Broad Street and New Street 
 are full of curb-stone blackmailers who knew 
 , me when I was struggHng with my companies. 
 ' They saw me take chances they themselves 
 feared to take. They hounded me, then. Thank 
 God, I got above them!" 
 
 Drew leaned over the table. *"* A few names, ' ' 
 he said. "Something specific. Who of all of 
 them would be capable of phoning the cemetery, 
 representing himself to be your family phy- 
 sician and ordering the grave dug? Who might 
 think of a thing Hke that ? ' ' 
 
 "Well, there's Harry Nichols, for instance. 
 He's an ass with a champagne thirst and a 
 shoestring salary. I threw him out of the house 
 the other day. He was calling on Loris. Think 
 of that! He's probably sworn to get me." 
 
 "How old is he?" 
 
 "AboTit twenty-three — or four! Smokes, 
 drinks and plays golf!" 
 
 "Name some others," suggested Drew art- 
 fully. 
 
 "Morphy!" 
 
 "I got him." 
 
 " Morphy 's brother who escaped when we 
 had Morphy indicted. I don't know where he 
 is. Then there's Vogel and Vogel's friends. 
 
"THE WmSPEBING VOICE" U 
 
 Oh, there's a pirate crew of them. Some were 
 mixed up in the first Flying Boat failure. They 
 would all like to see me in Eidgewood Ceme- 
 tery. I'll fool them!" 
 
 "You've given me Harry Nichols, Morphy, 
 Morphy's brother, Vogel and Vogel's friends. 
 That's four and a few outsiders. Can you think 
 of any more?" 
 
 "Not at present! One of them is respon- 
 sible for this letter. I want you to get busy. If 
 you won't take the case, I'll get an agency that 
 will. There's plenty!" 
 
 "I'D. handle it," said Drew, "when it gets 
 to be a case. As it is now, Mr. Stockbridge " 
 
 * ' Buuurrrruuurrr ! Buuurrruuurrr ! Buuu- 
 rrruuurrr!" 
 
 The Magnate started. He lowered his cigar, 
 balanced it on the edge of the table, and turned 
 slowly in his chair. He leaned over a smaller 
 table which was littered with bronze ash-trays 
 and inlaid match-boxes. He lifted the receiver^ 
 of the insistent telephone. He pressed this to i 
 his ear. 
 
 Drew watched him narrowly. The terseness 
 of a static charge of high voltage was in the 
 great library. The face of the Munition Mag- 
 nate grew cold with hauteur. It changed over 
 the seconds to venom and red anger. His neck 
 purpled. The diaphra-gm of the telephone in- 
 strument hissed its message. His hand clutched 
 
12 WHISPEEING WIRES 
 
 the hard-rubber receiver with white strength. 
 A click followed as the coimection was broken. 
 Stockbridge dropped the receiver upon the 
 hook. He turned slowly and stared at Drew 
 with eyes that had aged over the moments. 
 Wrinkles shot from their corners. Sullen light 
 gleamed ia their yellow depths. 
 
 "What happened?" questioned Drew half 
 rising from his chair and leaning over. "Who 
 phoned?" 
 
 The Magnate's chin described an upward arc 
 His lips grew firm. Bulges showed at the sides 
 of his jaw. 
 
 "What — ^who was it?" asked the detective. 
 
 Stockbridge stared at the letter upon the 
 table. His neck changed from purple to a pasty 
 ochre. A green sheen, like of death, overspread 
 his crafty features. He was stricken with the 
 clutch of fear. 
 
 Drew waited and thought rapidly. "What 
 happened ? " he asked with persuasion. ' * Noth- 
 ing serious — ^I hope?" 
 
 "Serious," said Stockbridge absently. "Se- 
 rious!" he snarled. "Yes, it was serious! It 
 was a death threat! It was what I had ex- 
 pected. It follows the letter. They — ^he will get 
 me ! He — he ' ' 
 
 "Who?" asked the detective. 
 
 Drew heard the table creaking as Stock- 
 Imdge's muscles stiffened — as the Magnate's 
 
' ' THE WmSPEEING VOICE ' ' 13 
 
 hands clutclied the edge of the polished surface. 
 
 ""Who?" he repeated on the alert for possi- 
 ble clews. 
 
 "Who! I don't knowl But they will— he 
 will!" 
 
 "Easy," said Drew. "Take it easy, sir. This 
 is a modem age. We are in the heart of civil- 
 ization. Nobody is going to ^ei you ! I'll see 
 to that!" 
 
 "You can't see ! This man knows everything. 
 He said that I would be dead within twelve 
 hours. That I would be in my grave in seventy- 
 two hours. He mentioned the grave at Green 
 — Eidgewood Cemetery. He gave secret details 
 of my life which few alone know. Early follies 
 of mine. An actress. A deal ia "War Babies 
 and an electrical stock which was hushed up. 
 I was the silent partner in- that. How should 
 this man know all of these things about me?" 
 
 "Just what did he say?" 
 
 " I ' ve told you ! He said enough I He threat- 
 ened to kill me despite all the precautions I 
 would take. He said I was marked for a death 
 which aU the police in the world couldn't solve. 
 That I would be killed ia spite of every effort 
 to save me. "What is it— poison? Have I al- 
 ready been given poison?" 
 
 Drew reached across the table and clutched 
 the magnate's left wrist He pulled out a flat 
 watch and timed the pulse. "Normal, almost," 
 
'14r ^WHISPERING WIEES 
 
 he said softly. "You're normal, despite the 
 shook. Your temperature is fair. I don't think 
 it was a toxin he meant. That deadens a man 
 and brings slow como." 
 
 "Well, what did he mean?" The magnate 
 had found his voice and his old-time nerve. 
 "What would you do in my case?" he said 
 eunniagly. 
 
 Drew glanced at the telephone. He raised his 
 brows and swung, full-staring, upon Stock- 
 bridge. His finger pointed between the money- 
 king's eyes. It was as steady as an automatic 
 revolver. 
 
 "Did you recognize that voice!" he asked 
 sharply. "Tell me the facts. I can't go ahead 
 unless you do. I must work from facts 1 ' ' 
 
 "No!" declared Stockbridge. "No, I did 
 not ! I never heard it before. I ' ' 
 
 "What was it like?" 
 
 "Hollow-whispering — almost feminine in 
 tone. I thought it was a woman at first. It 
 wasn't, though I It was a man or boy. ' ' 
 
 "Have you told me everything?" 
 
 "Yes — except this man or boy — this whisper- 
 ing voice, woimd up by threatening to get my 
 daughter, Loris, as soon as he finished with me. 
 Said he 'd clean up with her ! ' ' 
 
 "I'll take the case!" snapped Drew. 
 
PHAPTEB TWQ 
 
 "the magpie'* 
 
 THE Mimition Magnate tknist a shaking 
 hand toward the detective. " I 'm glad ! " 
 he declared raising his voice. "You did 
 well in the Morphy case. That's the reason I 
 called upon you. Now find the miscreant or 
 miscreants, who telephoned the cemetery super- 
 intendent, and you'll not be forgotten." 
 
 Drew glanced shrewdly at the 'phone. "May 
 I use it?" he asked briskly. "I'll try to trace 
 that call." 
 
 Stockbridge moved his chair away from the 
 little table. Drew glided across the room, 
 pressed the ash-trays and match-boxes to one 
 side, and picked up the receiver. He worked 
 the hook up and down with his broad thumb. 
 
 "Hello! Hello!" he repeated clicking the 
 hook. "HeUo, central! HeUo!" 
 
 He glanced at Stockbridge as he waited. He 
 frowned as he stooped and spoke more directly 
 into the transmitter. "Hello! Hello!" 
 
 "Something the matter?" asked the Magnate 
 with quick suspicion. "Don't they answer!" 
 
 15 
 
16 WHISPEEING- WIEES 
 
 "Hello! Hello! Hello, there!" Drew glared 
 at the transmitter, then tapped the receiver 
 against the silver-plated cover. "Hello!" he 
 shouted. "Damn it. Hello!" 
 
 He tnmed. "No go," he said thoughtfully. 
 "Connection seems to be broken. I'm talking 
 right out iato tMn air. Wonder who cut your 
 wires?" 
 
 Stockbridge bristled. He slid forward in his 
 great chair and stared at the detective. 
 ' ' They 're cut, eh ?' ' he asked. 
 
 Drew set the 'phone on the table and turned. 
 "Looks mighty like it," he said. His eyes 
 swung over the walls of the splendid room. 
 They rested upon a high, ebony stand with a 
 belfry from which dangled a gUt spring sus- 
 pending an ornate bird cage. Out of this cage, 
 a magpie peered with beaded eyes. Its tail ex- 
 tended up through the bars like a feather from 
 a hat. 
 
 "My bird," said Stockbridge. "A tame mag- 
 pie I brought from Spaia. It talks." 
 
 Drew raised his brows. He continued his 
 search of the library. Its wealth of books and 
 paintings and antiques almost stunned him. 
 "I'm looking for another 'phone," he said, low- 
 ering his voice to a whisper. "Have you an- 
 other 'phone in this house?" 
 
 "Yes. Two more. This is Gramerey Hill 
 9763. The one in Loris' room is Gramerey Hill 
 
"THE MAGPIE" 17 
 
 9764. Another in the butler's pantry, down- 
 stairs, is 9765. Perhaps the others are discon- 
 nected." 
 
 "We'll see. I want that call traced before 
 it gets cold. I know a wire chief at Gramercy 
 HiU Exchange. He'll help if I can get him. 
 Have your butler show me his 'phone. Also, 
 we better get a trouble-hunter, or report the 
 cut wires. Somebody wUl pay for this I It's 
 an outrage and a felony I" 
 
 Stockbridge moved his slippered foot and 
 pressed a button under the larger table. He 
 Waited, then pressed again. His eyes wavered 
 about the room. They fastened upon the por- 
 tieres which draped from the pole across the 
 doorway leading into the hall. His tongue 
 moistened dry lips as he watched for the but- 
 ler. 
 
 "I'll 'phone my office," said Drew hurriedly 
 as steps were heard ia the hall. "I'll get up 
 five operatives — ^no, six — right away. This all 
 may be a hoax, but I've lived forty-one years 
 too long to overlook a threat of this kind. Par- 
 ticularly when it concerns a man who has made 
 as many enemies as you have." 
 
 The butler parted the portieres as Drew 
 ceased spealdng. Stockbridge nodded and indi- 
 cated that the detective wanted to go down 
 stairs. The butler led the way to the lower 
 telephone. Into this, Drew spoke hurriedly and 
 
18 WHISPEEING WIRES 
 
 very mucli to the point. He secured three num- 
 bers in rapid succession. He snapped his or- 
 ders in a manner to set the cut-glass tinkling 
 on the pantry shelves. He hung up the receiv- 
 er, glanced shrewdly at the servants about, then 
 climbed the stairs like a boy of twelve. 
 
 "All is set!" he announced to Stockbridge 
 as he entered the library and crossed to the 
 table. "All moving, now I My wire-chief had 
 gone home. I got the chief operator. She's 
 going to send the first trouble-man handy. De- 
 laney will be up from the office with his flying 
 squad. I left it to him to arrange about tracing 
 the call through a telephone official. No use tell- 
 ing the chief operator too much. The official 
 will go right over her head and into the heart 
 of the thing. Now," — Drew pulled down the 
 lapels of his black coat and leaned over the 
 Magnate. "Now," he said with vigor, "now, 
 what about your servants? I had a good look 
 at some of them. How about that English but- 
 ler? How long have you had him?" 
 
 "Ten years I Brought him over, myself. 
 Wife picked the other servants. They're all 
 old, tried and trusted. I'll answer for them. 
 She died telling me to take care of them. I 
 don't think her equal lived in choosing help. 
 It was uncanny!" 
 
 Drew stroked his cropped mustache. 
 "Good!" he said. "That's fine! We'll start 
 
"THE MAGPIE" 19 
 
 'mth tiie supposition that they're not guilty. 
 Are any of them of German birth 1" 
 
 "My valet is part German, but he ran away 
 to avoid their army. He hates the Junker 
 party. Says 'It is responsible for the War.' " 
 
 "How long have you had him?" 
 
 "Nine years." 
 
 "That should let. him out. WeU," Drew 
 added with a sweeping glance about the library, 
 "well, these big windows — ^how about them?" 
 
 The detective advanced to the front of the 
 room as he asked the question, "Two," he 
 nrased. * * Two bay-windows of the superior or- 
 der. Curtains very heavy and rich. There's 
 a good catch on this one," he added springing 
 upon the radiator-box. "And a good catch on 
 this one. Both catches are closed. Seem to 
 have been closed for some time. Here's dust. 
 High-class housekeeper, but I've got her here." 
 
 Drew smiled as he ran his fingers over the 
 upper sash. He peered out into the Avenue 
 with its flowing tide of vehicles. He turned 
 and said to Stockbridge : 
 
 ' ' Suppose you order your butler or doorman 
 to shut the outside blinds. It's getting dark 
 and cold. I want to be sure that no one c£in 
 get through this way. ' ' 
 
 "Good," said Stockbridge reaching for the 
 button with his toe. "Good! We'll take every 
 precaution. Twelve hours will show the thing 
 
20 WHISPERING WIRES 
 
 one way or tlie otlier. Twelve hours should do 
 it." 
 
 The butler entered bearing a silver tray. He 
 set this on a mahogany tea-wagon and rolled 
 it to the Magnate 's chair. Drew frowned at the 
 sight of a black bottle and one glass. A signal 
 of understanding had been sent to the perfect 
 servant. 
 
 Stockbridge moistened his thin lips thirstily. 
 He whispered the instructions oonoerning the 
 bUnds. The butler withdrew Hke a shadow 
 merging into a shadow. Drew shrugged his 
 shoulders and went the round of the library 
 with the keen, trained seioitiny of a man-hunter 
 and a modem operative. He paused before a 
 ease of morocco-bound books. "These cases!'* 
 he asked. "How about them? What's behind?" 
 
 ' ' Books ! Books ! ' ' shrilled the magpie. 
 
 Drew raised his brows and swung upon the 
 bird. 
 
 * * Books ! Books ! ' ' repeated the pet. ' ' Books, 
 books, books!" 
 
 "Fine bird, "said Drew with thought. ' ' But 
 what is behind the cases, Mr. Stockbridge? I 
 don't want to move them if the walls are all 
 right." 
 
 A glass clicked against the silver tray as the 
 Magnate answered hastily: 
 
 "All right! They're aU right. I was here 
 \^hen they were fiUed. I just ordered so many 
 
"THE MAGPIE" 21 
 
 feet of books. Six hundred feet, I think it was. 
 I never look at them. AH that I ever read is 
 the magazines and the financial items in the 
 newspapers." 
 
 "The pictures— paintings," Drew said. 
 
 * ' Pictures ! Pictures 1 ' ' repeated the magpie. 
 
 "Shut up!" snarled Stockbridge. "Keep 
 quiet, Don!" 
 
 The bird ruffled its feathers and leaped to a 
 top perch. It peered from there at Drew, with 
 its head cocked sideways. 
 
 "How about them?" repeated the detective. 
 
 "I had them hung by my orders," Stock- 
 bridge said. "They're all right. Nothing but 
 a strong wall behind. No need to bother about 
 them." 
 
 "Everything is important," Drew suggested 
 with a slight reproof in his voice. * * Trifles may 
 make for the answer to the riddle." 
 
 "That Corot over there is no trifle. It cost 
 me thirty-five thousand dollars in France!" 
 • Drew lifted the lower edge of the painting 
 from the wall. Dust fell. He pressed his face 
 against the paper and looked behind the canvas. 
 Letting the frame back he tried the same oper- 
 ation with the other paintings of size. 
 
 "No secret panel, or anything queer," he 
 said finally as he dusted his hands. "All's well 
 with the walls. Now the floor. How about 
 trap-doors f" 
 
22 WmSPEEING WIRES 
 
 "Impossible!" Stockbridge exclaimed. "I'm 
 sure tliese rugs have been taien out and cleaned 
 every time I go to my country-place. A trap- 
 door would be noticed!" 
 
 "I'm trying to find out," suggested Drew 
 glancing from tbe bottle to the purple face of 
 the Magnate. "Please answer me if you want 
 to get results. I've got to see that no one 
 cories into- this library for the next twelve 
 hours. After that period of time — ^we can 
 breathe easier." 
 
 "Go on," said Stockbridge feeling the thrust. 
 
 "This door," Drew said. "The door to the 
 hall. Can it be locked securely!" 
 
 "Yes! It can be locked and bolted from the 
 inside. I often lock myself in — in " 
 
 Stockbridge stiffened in his chair. He 
 glanced toward the portieres. He leaned for- 
 ward and attempted to shield the view of the 
 quarter-emptied Bourbon-bottle and the used 
 glass, as a girl in lavender and Irish-lace swept 
 into the room. 
 
 Drew recognized Lords Stockbridge from 
 newspaper photos. He held his breath as she 
 glided by him, unseeingly. He touched his 
 mustache and waited. Her face, framed in 
 close -drawn hair the color of midnight sky, 
 softened perceptibly as she swished round the 
 great table in the center of the library and laid 
 an unjeweled hand upon her father's shoulder. 
 
"THE MAGPIE" 23 
 
 She turned with a start as she realized that 
 Stockbridge was not alone. Drew bowed with 
 swift courtesy. 
 
 * * Mr. Drew, "said the Magnate. ' ' Mr. Drew, 
 my daughter, Loris." 
 
 I Again the detective bowed. He met her level 
 glance with a smile in his brown eyes. She 
 answered it and leaned over her father's shoul- 
 der. Drew wheeled and fell to studying the 
 titles on the books. He moved to the ma^ie's 
 cage. He extended one finger. The bird flut- 
 tered and sprang from perch to perch. 
 
 Drew thrust his hands into his pockets. He 
 heard Loris speaking in terse, throaty tones to 
 her father. He could not well avoid catching 
 the tenor of their conversation. It concerned 
 the letter from the cemetery and the threat of 
 death withia twelve hours, which the Magnate 
 repeated to her with a softness ia his aged 
 voice. 
 
 A gushing torrent of unbridled emotion 
 poured down upon his gray head. The girl 
 paced the floor between the chair and the table. 
 She fell to her knees with swift grace. 
 
 "Be careful, father," she sobbed. "You must 
 be so careful. Remember you're all that I have, 
 now. That letter and that telephone call means 
 that somebody is planning to destroy you. Oh, 
 father, be careful. What would happen if you 
 were taken away fr«m me ? " 
 
24 WHISPEEING WIRES 
 
 "You'd marry that cad— Nichols I" blurted 
 Stockbridge. "I'm the one thing that stands in 
 his way. You 'd marry him — ^wouldn 't you ? ' ' 
 
 The girl rose proudly. Drew, from the shad- 
 ow outside the rose-light, studied the slender 
 figure crowned with a close-drawn turban of 
 blue-black hair. His eyes ranged down to her 
 slipper heels. They lifted again. He stroked 
 his chin as he waited for her answer. It came 
 truthfully enough and with iiigh spirit. 
 
 ' ' Yes, I '11 marry him some day. I want your 
 permission, but with it or without it, father, 
 I am going to marry him. He's a captain in 
 the Army. Doesn't that prove he is not all the 
 things you said he was!" 
 
 "Good girl," said Drew ia whispered admir- 
 ation. 
 
 "It proves nothing 1" exclaimed Stockbridge 
 stiffening in his chair and half rising. "He's 
 a cad and an ass under all his uniform. He's 
 too poor to be considered for one moment. I 
 want my daughter to marry " 
 
 "Whom she pleases," said Loris. "Harry 
 may be poor, bi;it he's not too proud to fight 1" 
 
 "Bah! They get those uniforms so the girls 
 will notice them. What does he know about 
 war?" 
 
 "He's been at Plattsburg for three months. 
 He 's in town on furlough. He 's helping us with 
 Bed Cross work. Isn't that noble!" 
 
"THE MAGPIE" 25 
 
 "That part's all right," said the Magnate, 
 "I want you to keep him from me, that's aU. 
 I believe hd's half German!" 
 
 "He's not! Harry is all- American. His 
 mother was bojm of German parents in this 
 oomitry. His father was Canadian. You've 
 heard of the Nichols who built part of the 
 Grand Trunk Railroad. Was he German 1" 
 
 Stockbridge paled under the torrent which 
 gushed from the girl's lips. 
 
 ' ' Well, all right, ' ' he said resignedly. " Don 't 
 bring him here or allow him to call. I've too 
 much to think about to worry over Harry 
 Nichols. You better go to your room and think 
 things over." 
 
 Loris glanced at her wrist-watch. She leaned 
 with quick motion and kissed her father on the 
 forehead. She turned at the portieres and 
 threw back her head. 
 
 "Good-by, Mr. Drew," she said prettily. "I 
 hope that you have not been annoyed." 
 
 The detective, naturally quick at answering, 
 found his tongue tied in his mouth. He stam- 
 mered a reply, which was too late. Loris 
 swished through the curtains, leaving the room 
 empty for her passing. 
 
 "A mighty fine girl," was Drew's whispered 
 comment. "They don't often come like that. 
 She's very high class. She's got spirit. I'd 
 
26 WHISPEEING WIEES 
 
 hate to snatch a delusion from that young lady 
 — Harry Nichols, for instance." 
 
 "Come here!" broke in Stookbridge. 
 
 Drew crossed the rugs. He stood by the 
 magnate's side. He watched him pour out a 
 half -glass of Bourbon and take the whisky neat 
 He frowned. "Well!" he asked. 
 
 "Not a word from your men or the telephone 
 company!" asked Stockbridge, wiping his 
 mouth with the back of his hand. "That's 
 queer, isn't it?" 
 
 Drew took out his watch. He replaced it 
 after a glance at the dial. His eyes wandered 
 to a little Sevres clock on a book-case. "It's 
 time for both," he said. "It's " 
 
 "There's somebody now — ^go see," Stock- 
 bridge whispered tersely. "Somebody is in the 
 hallway." 
 
 The portieres parted and revealed the beef- 
 red face of the English butler. He advanced 
 a step. 
 
 "The trouble-man from the telephone com- 
 pany is 'ere, sir," he said. " 'E's 'ere! 'E's 
 been hover the junctions in the halley, sir. 'B 's 
 looked at the junction-box. 'E says, sir, there's 
 no trouble there. 'E says 'it must be in 'ere, 
 sir.' " 
 
 "In 'ere, sir," repeated the magpie with a 
 loud squawking and rustle of wings. "Junction- 
 
"THE MAGPIE" 27 
 
 box! Jxinction-boxl" it oried with its head 
 through the gilded bars. 
 
 ' ' Shut up, Don ! ' ' ordered Stockbridge. * * Be 
 a good bird," he added sharply. "Now, Straker, 
 you may show the trouble-hunter up." 
 
 "Trouble-hunter! Trouble-hunter!" echoed 
 the magpie. 
 
 Drew, somewhat amused, thrust his hands in 
 the pockets of his coat and eyed the openiag 
 between the curtains. A click of tools sounded 
 metaUically. A shambling step was in the haJl- 
 way. 
 
 "This woiy," said the butler in a superior 
 tone. ' ' Eight this woiy, you ! ' ' 
 
 The portieres parted. A slouching figure, 
 with a greasy cap drawn far down over the 
 eyes, entered the library with a liueman's satoh- 
 d. on his hip. He swung the strap from his 
 shoulder, glanced at Stockbridge and then at 
 the detective. He dropped the satchel to the 
 floor and scratched his head. 
 
 "Take a look at this 'phone," said Drew. 
 "Go over the wires. Look for any cuts. The 
 trouble ought not to be in here." 
 
 Stockbridge rose and made room for the line- 
 man, who lifted the satchel and strode to the 
 'phone. He dropped to one knee by the little 
 table. He fished forth a testiug-set from his 
 shirt. It was boimd with two leads of ootton- 
 msulated wire. 
 
28 WHISPEEING WIRES 
 
 "I'll test here," he suggested, damping a set 
 of claws into the wires which came through the 
 molding and entered the ringing-box. 
 
 ' ' Hello ! " he said. * ' HeUo, this you, Saidee f 
 Say, Saidee, give me Franklin Official, seven- 
 teen. Yes ... all ri^tl Hello! This you, 
 Tupper? Say, Tupper, I went over the juno- 
 tion-box in the alley back of the house. Every- 
 thing 0. K. there. I'll go over the leads in the 
 house. Loose connection somewhere, I gu^ss." 
 
 A clicking of tools followed as the lineman 
 selected a pair of pliers. They rattled over the 
 binding-posts at the receiver. They tightened 
 the connections. He went over the transmitter, 
 and then every inch of the exposed wiring. He 
 removed the cover of the ringing-box and exam- 
 ined the connections. Replacing this cover, he 
 rose with a puzzled expression. 
 
 "All right," he said to Stockbridge, who was 
 standing with his back turned. "It's all right 
 here, sir. I don't find a thing. See — ^it's all 
 right." 
 
 The trouble-hunter lifted the receiver from 
 the hook. "Hello," he said in a low voice. 
 "HeUo, Saidee. Say, Saidee, what number is 
 this on your board?" 
 
 The lineman glanced around the room. His 
 eyes widened. He whistled with naive admira- 
 tion. "Hello," he said softly. "Yes . . . 
 Gramercy HiU 9763. That's right. O.K. Tell 
 
"THE MAGPIE" 29 
 
 Franklin Offieial— tell Tnpper that I took forty 
 minutes on the job. Forty minntes at time and 
 a half. Don't forget that. Yes . . . bridle— 
 everything, all right,, Saidee. See you later." 
 
 The trouble-hunter reached for his satchel. 
 He hitched it over his shoulder. 
 
 "Hold on!" said Drew. "What was the 
 trouble? Why couldn't we get Central?" 
 
 "You can search me — sir. It wasn't in this 
 room, mister. That 's a Western-Union cinch 1 ' ' 
 
 "Where was it?" 
 
 "I don't know." 
 
 "How about the junction-box in the alley? 
 Could it have been there?" 
 
 "Well it could — come to think of it. I scraped 
 an' cleaned th' connections to make sure. 
 They're all right now." 
 
 "Did you see anybody about?" 
 
 The lineman hitched up the satchel and 
 scratched his ear. "Seems to me, I did. A fel- 
 low climbed over the fence from the back yard 
 of this house just as I swings in from the side 
 street. It was snowin' a bit an' I couldn't see 
 very well." 
 
 "What kind of looking fellow?" snapped 
 Drew with awakened interest. "German?" 
 
 "You took th' very words right out of my 
 mouth," said the trouble-hunter. "He looked 
 like a German." 
 
 ' ' Describe him I Tall, fat or small ? ' ' 
 
30 WHISPERING WIRES 
 
 "I wasn't near enough to notice for sure. 
 Tail, I think. He went out the alley and turned 
 toward Fifth Avenue." 
 
 "Could he have called us up from that juno- 
 tion-box?" 
 
 "Sure — ^if he had a set of testers like this." 
 The lineman tapped his shirt with his left hand. 
 "He could have talked with you, but he couldn't 
 ring your bell without a magneto or an alter- 
 nating current of some kind." 
 
 "Could he have out the wires and connected 
 them again without Central noticing anything 
 out of the ordinary?" 
 
 ' ' He might. But who would do that, sir? " 
 
 "That's all!" said Drew in dismissal. 
 "Here's a doUar. Keep still about your vimt 
 here. We may want you later." 
 
 "Want you later," repeated the magpie. 
 
 Drew turned toward Stockbridge as the line- 
 man shuflSed through the portieres. "Queer," 
 he said. " Tall f eUow, eh ! That's the man who 
 cut in and threatened you. We'll get him I I'll 
 go out and see if Delaney has arrived. Two 
 hours of the twelve have passed. Ten more 
 should see you safely out of it." 
 
CHAPTEE THREE 
 "the MAJSr IN olivb-deab" 
 
 TRIGGT DREW stood on the marble steps 
 of the Stockbridge mansion. The butler 
 had just helped him on with his coat. The 
 door had closed softly. The outer air gripped 
 with cold that crackled. A soft snow was fall- 
 ing upon the city. It blurred the view of the 
 Avenue, as seen to north and south. It wound 
 the opposite buildings with a shroud of winter. 
 
 The detective squared his shoulders, thrust 
 his hands in his pockets for warmth, and hur- 
 ried out between the iron-grilled gates, which 
 stood slightly ajar. He hesitated a moment on 
 the sidewalk. Again he glanced up and down 
 the Avenue. The soft purring of a motor 
 sounded. A taxi churned through the snow. It 
 came to a slow stop at the opposite curb. The 
 glow from an overhead arc showed that this 
 taxi was crammed black with men. 
 
 "That's Delaney and his squad," said the 
 detective turning up his collar. "He's late." 
 
 Drew crossed the Avenue on a long diagonal. 
 He eyed the alert chauffeur. He rounded the 
 
 31 
 
32 .WHISPERINa WIRES 
 
 taxi and jerked open its door. The orders he 
 whispered to the squad of operatives were terse 
 and to the point. 
 
 "Keep Stockbridge's block covered," he said. 
 "Watch all four corners. Two of you get into 
 the alley, back of the house, and climb the fence. 
 Keep your eyes on the junction-box and the 
 telephone wires. Don 't let anybody touch them. 
 All out, now. It's a big job with double-pay, 
 men!" 
 
 The cramped operatives climbed out and 
 stood on the sidewalk. They glanced from Drew 
 to the towering spires of the Stockbridge man- 
 sion. Their eyes grew hard with calculation. 
 
 "She's big," repeated Drew. "Tou know 
 who lives there? He's been threatened twice. 
 Somebody gave him twelve hours to live. Two 
 of the twelve are gone. It's up to us to see 
 that nothing happens in the next ten." 
 
 Delaney touched his hat. "All right. Chief," 
 he said. "We'll see. I'll answer for the boys 
 I brought. I'll get rid of this taxi." The oper- 
 ative turned toward the driver. 
 
 "Keep it around the corner on the side 
 "street," Drew ordered. "Have him turn and 
 head this way. We can't tell what minute we 
 will need him," 
 
 Delaney gave the order. He paired off the 
 operatives and sent them hurrying through the 
 
"THE MAN IN OLIVE-DRAB" 33 
 
 snow. Drew noticed that he had brought six 
 men for the assignment. 
 
 "Good," he said as the last operative dis- 
 appeared. * ' Six is better than five. This thing 
 is widening ont. I wouldn't wonder if we need- 
 ed more, before the night passes." 
 
 "What's coming off?" asked Delaney with 
 an Irish grin. "Another stock scandal like the 
 Flying Boat one?" 
 
 "An echo of it — perhaps," said Drew. "It's 
 dog eat dog, I guess. Stockbridge is no saint. 
 Some man with a whispering — consumptive 
 voice has 'phoned him the news that he was 
 going to die before daylight. I don't think he 
 is. Not if I can help it," 
 
 "Who did he rob this time — the old devil 1" 
 
 "He's retired. It's a case, perhaps, of thieves 
 falling out in high places. Remember how 
 Stockbridge beat Morphy to the District Attor- 
 ney and told aU he knew, and went before the 
 Grand Jury? Morphy may be behind this 
 threat-by-wire. ' ' 
 
 * ' Morphy 's behiad bars, Chief ! ' ' 
 
 "I know that. He's always dangerous, 
 though." 
 
 "Another old devU," said Delaney thrashing 
 his arms. "I can see him now, Chief, in his 
 big automobile. A husky man with a leather 
 coat and cap. And always a woman by his side, 
 Chief. A different woman, every time!" 
 
34 WHISPEEINQ WIRES' 
 
 "He fell a long way, Delaney. Come on. 
 We'll forget Morphy for a while. Stockbridge 
 is alone. He is in danger." 
 
 Drew clutched the operative's arm and mo- 
 tioned across the street. They plunged through 
 the snow with heads down. They entered the 
 iron-grilled gate. Drew touched a button set 
 in the stone of the doorway. He repeated the 
 signaL 
 
 The door opened to a crack. A chain rattled. 
 A face blotted out the inner light of the man- 
 sion. 
 
 "All right," said Drew. "All right, butler. 
 This is one of my operatives. Let us in." 
 
 The butler led the way through the hal l of 
 old masters, after taking the detectives' coats 
 and hats. He parted the curtains and announced 
 the operatives. Drew pressed Delaney into the 
 library. 
 
 Stockbridge sat in the same position between 
 the tables. The rose-light from the ornate lamp 
 brought out deep lines which transversed his 
 yellow face. Fear gave way to a mumbling sat- 
 isfaction as he stared at the two resolute detec- 
 tives who had come to guard him. He rested 
 his eyes upon Delaney. His brows raised in 
 inquiry. 
 
 "This is Delaney," said Drew. "He's the 
 man who brought back Morphy from Hartford. 
 He's true blue. iJielaney, this is your case as 
 
"THE MAN m OLIVE-DEAB" 35 
 
 well as mine. Tour old prisoner may be in- 
 volved." 
 
 "Morphy ain't ia it, Chief. He's locked up 
 tighter than the Sub-Treasury's strong-box. 
 It's some one else." 
 
 "What did you get on the telephone call? 
 The call I had you trace through Spencer Ott, 
 the Chief Electrician?" 
 
 "Nothing, as yet! I -waited. That's what 
 kept me so long." Delaney glanced at his 
 ^atch. 
 
 "He'll 'phone later, I guess," said Drew. 
 "Now," he added turning toward Stockbridge. 
 "Now, let's cover everything in this house. 
 "What time was it, Delaney?" 
 
 "Nine forty-eight, when I looked, Chief." 
 
 "That's early. Suppose you allow a half 
 hour for a search of the upper house. Take 
 that time and go over everything. Pay particu- 
 lar attention to Mr. Stockbridge 's rooms. Look 
 .at the windows. See that they are locked. See 
 that there are no places where a man could be 
 hidden. You'll permit Delaney to do this, Mr. 
 Stockbridge?" 
 
 The Munition Magnate nodded. He kept his 
 eyes on Drew, who still faced him. "Do you 
 think it is necessary?" he asked. "I'll answer 
 for my servants." 
 
 "We must suspect everybody," Drew said. 
 "Go on, Delaney. Find the butler and let 
 
36 WHESPEEING WIEES 
 
 »» 
 
 Tn'm show you around. I've searched in here, 
 
 Delaney started toward the portieres as 
 Stockbridge reached down and pressed the 
 floor-button with his finger. 
 
 "Just a moment," said Drew with after- 
 thought. "You better knock on Miss Stock- 
 bridge's door and ask permission to go through 
 her suite. There's just a chance that you might 
 see something." 
 
 "Might see something!" shrilled the magpie. 
 
 Delaney turned with a startled half-oath. 
 "Wot's that?" he asked, aggressively clenching 
 his huge fists. 
 
 "Might be something!" chortled the magpie. 
 
 "Go on," Drew laughed. "That's only a 
 magpie." 
 
 "Looks like a crow, Chief. It sure startled 
 me. I thought we had the villain right here." 
 
 Drew waited. Delaney — ^with a last glance 
 toward the bird-cage — followed the butler to the 
 upper floors of the mansion. Drew opened the 
 letter and studied it. He examined the post- 
 mark. He heard, as he was replacing the paper 
 in the envelope, the click of the glass against 
 the bottle at Stockbridge 's side. There fol- 
 lowed a dry chuckle of inner satisfaction. A 
 match was struck. Cigar smoke wreathed un- 
 der the rose-light and floated toward a high 
 radiator which was over the book-cases. Drew 
 went over to these and glanced upward. The 
 
"THE MAN IN OLIVE-DRAB" 37 
 
 gilt-grilled ¥entilator, through which the smoke "^ 
 passed, was narrow and set within the wall- 
 plaster. It showed no sign of marks at its edge. 
 It was the only opening, save the door and the 
 two great windows at the front, which led from 
 or into the lihrary. 
 
 He returned to the center of the lihrary. A 
 swishing sounded. Loris, with eyes aflame, 
 glided into the room. The curtains dropped 
 hehind her with soft rustling. She glanced from 
 Drew to her father. She stamped her shppered 
 foot upon the thick pile of the rug hefore the 
 doorway. 
 
 "By what right?" she said to Drew. "By 
 whose orders have you sent that awful man 
 to my rooms?" 
 
 Drew flushed beneath the olive of his skin. 
 
 ' ' I sent him, ' ' he admitted guiltily. ' ' I never 
 thought you would be offended, Miss Stock- 
 bridge." 
 
 "I am — greatly so! Do you mistrust me?" 
 
 "Miss Stockbridge," Drew hastened to say 
 with soft apology. "Miss Loris — that thought 
 never entered my mind. It never did ! I'll have 
 Mr. Delaney out, right away. He should not 
 have gone in without your permission. I told 
 him to knock and ask you." 
 
 "My maid let him in. I — I " 
 
 Drew studied her gown. It had been changed. 
 The Irish lace and the lavender one had been 
 
38 WHISPERING WIEES 
 
 replaced by an Oxford-gray tailor-made suit 
 which fitted her slender, elegant form like a 
 close glove. Her slippers were topped with 
 fawn-hued spats. One ring was on her finger. 
 It was a solitaire of price. It gleamed and 
 flashed in the rose-light as she raised her hand 
 to her hair. 
 
 "I'll have Delaney right out," repeated 
 Drew, bowing and startiag for the doorway. 
 
 "Nol" 
 
 Drew paused. He turned. The magnate tow- 
 ered over the table. His eyes were blood-shot 
 and glazed with resolve. 
 
 "No!" he declared. "No, you'll not have 
 him out! Let him do his duty! Loris, go up- 
 stairs!" 
 
 "But, father » 
 
 * ' Go — ^up — stairs ! ' ' 
 
 The girl flushed. Scarlet ripples rose from 
 her young breast. Her cheeks crimsoned into 
 two burning spots. She wheeled, gathered up 
 her skirt, and glided swiftly through the por- 
 tieres which dropped behind her like a curtain 
 of a stage. 
 
 "Go — ^up — stairs," quoted the magpie great- 
 ly excited. 
 
 Drew retained the vision of Loris long after 
 her footsteps had ceased to sound in the hall- 
 way. He grew thoughtful as he waited. There 
 were details to the case which already caused 
 
"THE MAN IN OLIVE-DEAB" 39 
 
 him concern. It was evident that the girl was 
 tremendously high-spirited and willful. Her 
 obedience to her father's demand had only been 
 after a struggle with her turbulent nature. She 
 had given in to him, but friction was there 
 which might cause trouble at a future hour. 
 
 Delaney parted the portieres, finally. He 
 strode into the library with a flushed face. He 
 lifted one brow as he jerked his head upward 
 in a mute signal to Drew. 
 
 "I guess it's all 0. K," he blurted swinging 
 toward Stockbridge and eyeing the bottle beside 
 the telephone. "0. K. upstairs. I searched 
 most everything — ^posted a valet at the master's 
 suite and took a look into Miss Stockbridge's 
 rooms. They seem all right. I guess they're 
 all right," he added with candor, which Drew 
 understood referred to the girl and her out- 
 burst ia her boudoir. 
 
 * ' Good, ' * Drew said closing his lips. * * That's 
 good. Now, Mr. Stockbridge," he added, 
 "there wiU be eight of us on the outside of 
 this house. You have your trusted servants 
 inside. There's three telephones in good order, 
 thanks to the trouble-man. There's the entire 
 New York Police and Detective Departments to 
 back us up. There should be no trouble." 
 
 The Magnate blinked beneath the cone of 
 rose-light. He wet his dry lips. He rubbed his 
 
40 iWHISPEEING WIRES 
 
 scaly hands. "Any orders to me?" he asked 
 detenmnedly. ' ' What shall I do ?' ' 
 
 "You look this library door when Delaney 
 and I go out. Lock it and bolt it securely. 
 Don't take a particle of food. Don't drink any 
 water. Try to get along to-night without sam- 
 pling anything." 
 
 Stockbridge reached for the bottle of Bour- 
 bon. He held it up to the light. It was half 
 full. "All right," said he. "I might finish 
 part of this — that's all." 
 
 Drew glanced at Delaney. "That'll be all 
 right," he said turning. "That bottle's been 
 tested. You might let this oflScer try a little of 
 it. Nothing like being sure, you know." 
 
 Delaney was willing. The drink he poured, 
 after the butler brought a clean glass, would 
 have cost him considerable money in war time. 
 He up-ended it neat. He smiled as one hand 
 rested upon his chest. "Fine!" he said with 
 sincerity. "There's nothin' th' matter with 
 thatl" 
 
 Drew turned toward the portieres, where, be- 
 tween, the butler waited. "We'll go now," he 
 said. "Remember — lock and bolt this door. In- 
 struct your man to stay outside and not to leave 
 it under any circumstances. When you go up 
 to your bedroom, have him go with you. Then 
 lock tire tipstairs door and let your valet sleep 
 across the threshold. You can have a mattress 
 
Vh-N lOHNbON, GE.ORGE HOWELL AND WALCOLM DUNCAN IN 
 ' WHISPERING WIRES " AT THE 49th STREET THEATRE 
 
"THE MAN IN OLIVE-DEAB" 41 
 
 moved for that purpose. I'll come in — ^first 
 thing in the morning. Good night, sir!" 
 
 "Good night," repeated Stoekbridge rising 
 from his chair and leaning his hands npon the 
 polished surface of the table. "Good night to 
 both of you!" 
 
 .Drew glanced back as the butler pressed in 
 the curtains and started closing the hard-wood 
 door. The Magnate still stood erect under the 
 rich glow from the overhead cone. His eyes 
 were slit-lidded and defiant. He glared about 
 the room like an aged lion in a jungle-glade. H^ 
 started around the table. 
 
 The door closed. Drew waited in the hall- 
 way. He heard the lock snap. The bolt shot 
 home. Stoekbridge was alone in a sealed room. 
 
 "Watch this door!" ordered Drew clutching 
 the butler's purple sleeve. "Watch it like a 
 oat. Stay right near it under any and aU cir- 
 cumstances. Don't go away from it. It may 
 mean life or death to your master." 
 
 "I'll stoiy right 'ere, sir." 
 
 "See that you do," cautioned the Detective. 
 "See that you do." 
 
 Delaney found the hats and coats in the 
 foyer. These they donned, opened the outer 
 door, and stepped into the night with jaws 
 squared and hands thrust deep in their pockets. 
 
 They crossed the snow-mantled Avenue upon 
 a long diagonal which brought them to the up* 
 
42 .WHISPEEING WIRES 
 
 town comer and the waiting taxi, whose engiae 
 was softly purring beneath its hooded bonnet. 
 
 The driver was asleep. He woke as Drew 
 laid a hand on his arm. 
 
 "Seen anything?" asked the Detective. 
 
 "Nothia', boss, but snow. Nothia' at all," 
 he yawned. 
 
 Delaney glanced about. He opened the taxi 
 door on the street side and lunged inward with 
 a sigh of relief. Drew followed and pulled the 
 door shut. 
 
 * * Where 's the bunch ?" he asked. " Just how 
 did you post them?" 
 
 "Flood's with the fixed-post cop on the Ave- 
 nue. He's down a block. Flynn and Cassady 
 are in the alley— in the yard, I mean. They're 
 watching the junction-box and the wires. Joe 
 and 'Toole went east. Harrigan is planted 
 across the street. That's him between the two 
 buildings. See him?" 
 
 Drew rubbed the rear glass of the taxi. He 
 pressed his nose against this. A blurred form, 
 almost obliterated by falling snow, showed 
 where the operative was guarding the mansion. 
 
 Delaney, who was watching out through an- 
 other window, suddenly clutched Drew by the 
 arm. "Look!" he exclaimed. "Look, Chiefl 
 Over toward the big house!" 
 
 The Detective drew back from his study of 
 Harrigan. He turned on the seat and followed 
 
"THE MAN m OLIVE-DEAB" 43 
 
 Delaney's pointing finger. He clamped Hs jaw 
 shut with, a click of strong teeth. 
 
 ''Somebody's coming put of Stockbridge's," 
 said the operative. 
 
 "Quek!" signaled Drew. "Watch closely," 
 he added in a whisper. 
 
 A girl came through the doorway and opened 
 the iron-grilled gates. She paused and glanced 
 north and south through the curtain of down- 
 falling snow. She turned with resolution and 
 hurried along the east side of the Avenue. She 
 was at the comer opposite the taxi, when Drew 
 reached and opened the door with sly fingers. 
 
 "Tail her," he ordered. "Right after her, 
 Delaney. I'd know that little lady in a mil- 
 lion." 
 
 "Who is she. Chief!" 
 
 "Loris Stockbridge!" 
 
 "Sure?" 
 
 "Yes! Eight after her! There — she turned 
 east. See her white spats? See her furs? 
 Some queen to be out a night like this. Don't 
 let her get too far ahead of you. That's right, 
 Delaney!" 
 
 The operative sprang to the curb. He round- 
 ed the hood of the taxi. He slouched along 
 the pavement to the comer, waited for the frac- 
 tion of a minute until a limousine passed, then 
 hurried over the Avenue. He disappeared into 
 the canyon whose walls were towering apart- 
 
44 :WHISPEEINa WIRES 
 
 ments and whose end was marked by a row 
 of soft arcs across which, snow falling froira 
 house-tops, sparkled in the night like diamonda 
 beyond price. 
 
 The Avenue churned with returning theater- 
 parties and night-hawk cabs. The roar of the 
 city came to the waiting Detective's ears like 
 a giant turning in his first sleep. The sifting 
 snow sanded against the windows of the taxi. 
 The purring motor missed sparking now and 
 then. It shook the cab as it resumed its revolv- 
 ing with a sputter and a cough in the muffler. 
 The driver huddled deeper in his sheep-skin 
 coat collar. He snored in synchronism with the 
 engine. 
 
 Drew rubbed the glass before him and stud- 
 ied the aspect with close-lidded intentness. He 
 marked the shut gates of the Mansion down the 
 Avenue. He saw that the lights from the inner 
 globes had been extinguished. He counted the 
 staring windows. His eyes lowered to the soft 
 rose-glow which streamed out through the shut- 
 blinds of the library. Snow was on the slats 
 and sills. 
 
 A swift crunch of heavy shoes at the side of 
 the taxi — ^the turning of the door-lock — the 
 burly form in black that climbed in, announced 
 Delaney. 
 
 "All right, Chief I" he said somewhat out of 
 
"THE MAN IN OLIVE-DEAB" 45 
 
 breath.. "AH right — move over. Here she 
 comes back!" 
 
 Drew rubbed a frosted pane with his elbow. 
 A blurred form — close to the sheltering wall of 
 the side street — revealed itself into Loris 
 Stockbridge. She turned the comer. She 
 glanced back over her sabled shonlder. She 
 pressed her gloved hands deep within her muff 
 and almost ran for the iron-grilled gates of the 
 mansion. 
 
 "She connected with a blonde lad in olive- 
 drab uniform!" said Delaney. "He gave her 
 something that looked to me like a revolver. 
 Wot d'ye make out-a that, Chief!" 
 
CHAPTER FOUR 
 
 "the muedee" 
 
 TEIGGY DEEW had no good answer for 
 Delaney's question concerning the re- 
 volver. Tlie matter was important in 
 view of the threat aimed toward Stockbridge. 
 Why Loris should obtain a gun from a rendez- 
 vous in a drug-store was more than the Detec- 
 tive could fathom. He turned to Delaney. 
 
 "Explain yourself!" he snapped, gripping 
 the operative by the sleeve. "Make yourself 
 clear! We have no time to waste in this mat- 
 ter!" 
 
 Delaney gulped and whispered. "It's IMs 
 way. I follows the girl until she turns around 
 the comer where there is an all-night drug- 
 store. She was in a telephone-booth when I 
 came up and looked through the window. She 
 was trying to get a number. While she's try- 
 ing, a taxi rushes up and out jumps a lad in a 
 long benny. He pays the driver with a bill and 
 hurries past me and into the drug-store. I gets 
 a good look at him. He's about twenty-three 
 years old, blonde hair and tall " 
 
 46 
 
"THE MUEDEE" i7 
 
 "TaU!" 
 
 "He was five feet eleven, Chief. I'd say that 
 to be safe. The tmiform he wore tmder the 
 benny was olive-drab with bars on his shoulder. 
 He took the overcoat off — afterwards." 
 
 "How many bars?" 
 
 "Two, Chief." 
 
 "That's goodl" exclaimed Drew with sud- 
 den vigor. * * Good I ' ' 
 
 "The girl," went on Delaney, "was 'phoning 
 for him. She dropped the receiver when she 
 heard him come in. She had the party she 
 wanted — ^right there. Good deduction — ^that 
 is!" 
 
 The Detective snorted. "Go on," he said 
 with a faint frown. 
 
 ' ' Sure it was ! "Well, I moves over and starts 
 puttin' a penny in the slot-machine outside the 
 drug-store. The machine didn't work very 
 well on account of the snow. I'm a long time 
 gettin' my piece of ohewin'-gum. I sees them 
 talking in the drug-store. His coat is off 'cause 
 it's warm inside. He had an officer's uniform 
 on." 
 
 "One bar or two? " 
 
 "Two bars on his shoulder. Chief." 
 
 "Captain, then. Go on." 
 
 "He's a tall lad with thick lips and wide-blue 
 eyes. He's straight as a pike-staff and good 
 lookin' — for a blonde." 
 
48 57HISPERING WIBES 
 
 "Looks German?" 
 
 "Not so I could notice 1 Seemed to be a bit 
 of a swell. Had gloves and a high-class wrist 
 watch. I hate them things." 
 
 Drew smiled. "Hurry," he said. "Don't 
 take too long. What happened? "What about 
 the smoke-wagon?" 
 
 "I'm comia' to it, Chief. They moves over 
 to the drug-case. They chins some more. Then 
 he blows her to a soda — a cherry sundae." 
 
 Drew rubbed the glass at his side and started 
 out. He swept the mansion with swift-runniag 
 eyes. He tximed. 
 
 "They were sweet — them two," went on De-- 
 laney with thought. "I deducts they'd known 
 each other a long while." 
 
 ' ' Quit your deducting. Get to facts ! ' ' 
 
 "Well, Chief, he ups and gives the drug-store 
 the once over with sharp looks. Then he handed 
 her a little, flat box which she pops into her 
 muff — quick as any shop-Mster. It was as 
 quick as that!" 
 
 "How do you know it was a revolver?'* 
 
 "By what foUowed, Chief." 
 
 "What followed?" 
 
 "Her hand creeps into the muff. It works 
 around while the derk is mixin' the sundae. 
 When the clerk's back is turned, out comes the 
 hilt of a nice, little gat with ivory trimmin's. 
 It's one of them lovely watch-charm affaira— ' 
 
"THE MUEDEE" 49 
 
 an polished up withotit a knock-out ptincbu" 
 
 "A twenty-two?" 
 
 "About that. It's the caliber them actresses 
 carry in their stockings. It might Mil, though, 
 at short range." 
 
 "Go on, Delaney. Tell me what happened 
 then?" 
 
 "I gets my cheAvin'-gum, Chief. I backs to 
 the curb. They finish their sundae. I'm across 
 the street when the lad goose-steps out of the 
 drug-store — alone. 'Toole was talking with 
 the fixed-post cop and a Central Office man 
 half-way down the block. They gets my office 
 when I pulls out my handkerchief. The C. 0. 
 dick covers the comer. 'Toole falls in behind 
 the lad in the fur benny as he passes him, with 
 collar turned up and leggias working at a dou- 
 ble-time through the snow." 
 
 ' ' That 's good ! 'Toole will put him to bed. " 
 
 "Sure, Chief. Leave it to 'Toole. He never 
 lost a tail yet. He'll follow that lad to Frano© 
 — ^unless you caU him off." 
 
 Drew polished the glass and strained his eyes 
 in the direction of Stockbridge's mansion. The 
 Avenue had quieted over the hour after mid- 
 night, A few belated pedestrians, muffled to the 
 brows, glanced at the waiting taxi with curi- 
 osity. They did not stop, however. 
 
 Delauey drew out his watch and studied its 
 
50 WHISPEEING WIRES 
 
 dial by aid of the ligM which streamed from a 
 corner arc. He replaced the watch. 
 
 "Twelve-forty-five," he announced. "Wish 
 I'd brought a pint along. I would have, if the 
 dame hadn't come out of the drug-store so 
 quick." 
 
 "Did she buy anything— or do anything, 
 after the officer left her?" 
 
 "No! Just waited a second, then came sail- 
 in ' out without a smile. Had her hands crammed 
 in her muff. That's where the revolver was. 
 Bet it was loaded." 
 
 ' ' More deduction, ' ' said Drew. " Don 't jump 
 at conclusions, Delaney. Get facts and work 
 from them. Get " 
 
 The Detective's voice trailed into silence. He 
 reached swiftly and wiped his hand over the 
 frosted pane. He pressed his nose against the 
 glass until it became white with cold. Ho 
 jerked back his head. 
 
 "Quek!" he signaled from deep down in his 
 throat. "Quek, Delaney! Open the door. 
 Somebody is coming out of the house !" 
 
 Delaney twisted the handle. A breath of 
 stinging air swept into the taxi's heated space. 
 Snow followed and drifted across the detec- 
 tives' knees. Both men strained in one posi- 
 tion. Their eyes burned as they waited with 
 grim-set lips. 
 
 A light shone from the lower entrance of the 
 
"THE MUEDEE" 51 
 
 mansion. Its oblong brought out in bold-relief 
 the details of the iron-grilled gates. Across 
 this fine snow sifted. A man emerged. He 
 closed the door. He opened the gates and stag- 
 gered toward the Avenue's curb. He stood, 
 bare-headed in the night. His chin swxmg 
 north and south with helpless motion. He fixed 
 his eyes upon the waiting taxi, with a start of 
 recognition. He came over the surface of the 
 Avenue with faltering, bewildered steps. 
 
 "The butler!" snapped Drew. "That's 
 Stockbridge's butler! What's happened?" 
 
 "God only knows!" exclaimed Delaney. 
 
 Drew climbed over the operative and sprang 
 to the curb. He charged around the rear of the 
 taxi and brought up with a jerk before the 
 startled servant. 
 
 "What is it?" he asked sharply. 
 
 The butler stammered an incoherent answer. 
 His eyes wavered from the taxi to the mausion 
 — then back again. They gripped to a dead-lock 
 with the detective's own. 
 
 "What happened?" exclaimed Drew. 
 
 " I don 't know, sir. I don 't know ' ' 
 
 "Keep cool! Answer me!" The Detective 
 clutched the butler's shoulder with a vise-grip. 
 * ' Answer me, " he repeated. ' ' What happened ? 
 What is the matter — over there?" 
 
 "I don't " 
 
 "None of that! Answer I Answer!" 
 
52 WHISPEEING WIKES 
 
 "The telephone company, sir. The telephone 
 people rang me . . . they rang me hnp hon the 
 downstairs 'phone, sir. They said . . . she 
 said ... the chief -loidy said for me to 'ang the 
 receiver hup hon the Gramercy 'ill 'ook, sir. 
 The 9763 one, sir." 
 
 "Which one is that — ^the lihraryl" 
 
 "It his, sir!" 
 
 "Goon! Goon! Goon!" 
 
 "I goes back where I 'ad left the second-man, 
 sir, by the door, sir, as you'd ordered, sir. I 
 knocks 'ard on the door." 
 
 "Yes! Yes!" said Drew, feeling Delaney's 
 hot breath over his shoulder. "Yes! Go on!" 
 
 "I knocks, sir. I pounds *ard. I 'ammers 
 and 'ammers hon the wood, sir. 'E don't an- 
 swer — 'e don't." 
 
 Drew's face grew stem. "Well!" he asked 
 still holding the butler's eyes. "WeU — ^what 
 then?" 
 
 "I knocks some 'arder. Then the second- 
 man, 'e knocks. 'E 'its the door with 'is 'eel, . 
 sir!" 
 
 "Come on!" said Drew, turning and clasping 
 Delaney's sleeve. "Come on — something is 
 wrong!" 
 
 The detective swept the Avenue with a sharp 
 glance as he hurried across the wheel-churned 
 ice and snow. He signaled to Harrigan by 
 drawing a handkerchief. That operative de- 
 
"THE MUEDEE" 53 
 
 tached himself from tlie shadow between the 
 two houses and moved toward the comer. He 
 stood there on guard as Drew hurried through 
 the iron-grilled gates and thrust his knee 
 against the door. It opened. Delaney and the 
 butler crowded in. They mounted the inner 
 stairs on tiptoes. Drew's hand went behind 
 him in warning. He turned at the top of the 
 landing. The second-man was standing before 
 the library door with folded arms and a watch- 
 dog expression on his cocfeey face. He re- 
 mained in that position as Drew glided to his 
 side. 
 
 "Hear anything?" asked the detective. 
 
 "Never a word, sir. Hit's blym quiet hin 
 there. Hi think 'e's 'ad something 'appen, sir. 
 'E never acted Hke that — ^before, sir. Some- 
 times 'e sleeps, but 'e always wakes hup when 
 the walley comes after 'im, sir." 
 
 ' * 'E does, ' ' echoed the butler with chattering 
 teeth. 
 
 J "Are you sure you tried to unlock this 
 door?" queried Drew, twisting the knob. 
 "Have you tried the outer lock? Tou might 
 have shot the bolt in your excitement." 
 
 "The key to the houter lock, sir, is hinside !" 
 
 "It is!" snapped Drew, pressing against the 
 panel as he listened close up to the chamfering. 
 "It is, eh? That's funny." 
 
 " 'E put hit there, sir. The master did, sir I" 
 
54 WHISPEEINa WIRES 
 
 Drew did not dwell further ,oii this. He 
 stared at Delaney, with unseeing eyes. He bent 
 and listened for a second time. He stiffened 
 suddenly. He Jerked back. 
 
 "Listen," he whispered tersely. "Every- 
 body listen. What's that noise inside? Hear 
 it? Hear it, Delaney?" 
 
 The operative dropped to his knees and 
 pressed his ear to a faint line of light below the 
 door. He rose, dusting his knees. He swore 
 audibly. 
 
 "What is it?" asked Drew. 
 
 "Sounds like 'the crow. Chief." 
 
 ' ' Stockbridge 's magpie ? ' ' 
 
 ' ' Something like that. ' ' 
 
 The Detective laid his ear flat against the key- 
 hole. His face hardened as he waited. He lifted 
 his head and pointed with a steady finger. 
 "Listen!" he commanded. "There — listen. 
 That's no magpie!" 
 
 A low whine like the howl of a wild thing rose 
 to a reed note of morihv/nd terror. It died; then 
 resumed its shrieking. It leaped the octaves • 
 from no note to a blare of a soul in agony. Sud- 
 denly it struck down the tone scale with descend- 
 ing steps of mocking laughter. 
 
 "Look out ! ' ' shouted Drew, bending his knees 
 and gliding back to the wall of the haUway. 
 "Look out!" he repeated. 
 
"THE MUEDEE" 55 
 
 ""What are you goin' to do?" asked Delaney 
 Imskily. 
 
 "Do? I'm going to break the door do-wn! 
 Look out!" 
 
 The detective braced himself against the wall. 
 He lunged forward and crashed against the dark 
 panel near the lock and bolt, with the energy of 
 a college fullback. He backed away and re- 
 peated the smashing blow. 
 
 "Hold on, Chief," Delaney said. "That's no 
 use. The door is two inches thick. I had a good 
 look at it. Waitl" 
 
 Drew rubbed his right shoulder as Delaney 
 turned toward the white-faced butler. 
 
 ' ' You get an ax !" he ordered. ' ' Beat it, and 
 get a big ax, quick!" 
 
 "The axes are in the furnace room, sir." 
 
 "Get one! Bring it right up, you. Hurry 
 now!" 
 
 The operative turned toward Drew. "The 
 only way, Chief," he explained. "I've been in 
 too many of Big Bill Devery's raids not to 
 know how to break down a strong door. I'm 
 the man who took Honest John Kelsey's house 
 apart for him. It was built like a British tank. ' ' 
 
 The puffing butler appeared with a fire ax. 
 He handed it to Delaney, who eyed the edge with 
 concern. 
 
 "Not sharp," he said, "but it'll do, at a 
 pinch. Lookout — everybody!" 
 
56 WHISPEEINa WIRES 
 
 Delaney waved the servants away. H« 
 moistened his broad palms. He swung the ax 
 and crashed its weight into the panel nearest the 
 lock. He followed this blow with another. He 
 panted as he rataed swinging slashes at the dark 
 wood. It splintered. An opening was made. 
 This opening was enlarged by short-arm jabs 
 until Drew laid a hand on Delaney 's shoulder 
 and called a halt. "Let me see," he said bend- 
 ing down. 
 
 He straightened! He enlarged the chopped 
 place with his fingers. He ripped off the 
 splinters imtil there was room for a pahn to be 
 inserted. Delaney, dropping the ax upon the 
 hall-rug, thrust through his arm to the elbow. 
 He bent his knee as he strained. His face 
 screwed into a knot. 
 
 "Is the key there?" asked Drew. 
 
 "Ye — s. I turned it. All the way, Chief. 
 Here's the bolt. Both were locked tight. Both 
 locked, on the inside of the library." 
 
 "Eemember that!" snapped Drew, squaring 
 his shoulders. "Everybody remember that. It 
 may be important!" 
 
 Drew pressed Delaney aside. He seized the 
 gold knob and turned it slowly. He waited for 
 a moment. Nothing soimded save the loud 
 breathing of the butler and the other servants 
 who were crowded in the hall. 
 
 The detective jerked open the splintered door. 
 
"THE MUEDEE" 57 
 
 He hesitated and listened. He pressed aside the 
 portieres with his left hand as his right fingers 
 coiled over the ugly hilt of a police regulation 
 .44. He advanced into the library, foot by foot. 
 His fingers still coiled the gun's butt. He stood 
 rigid as he reached the fringe of the splendid 
 rug which was under the great table. His 
 sweeping, close-lidded eyes took in the details 
 of the room. He saw the magpie in its cage. 
 The bird's feathers were ruffled. Its head 
 darted ia and out the bars with great excite- 
 ment. 
 
 Drew frowned as he noticed a wreath of pale- 
 blue smoke curling under the dome of the rose- 
 light. He sniffed the air with a shrewd intake. 
 A powder explosion of some kind had left a 
 trace. The air, so close and warm, was filled 
 with acrid menace. 
 
 The detective removed his hand from the re- 
 volver's butt and waved it behind him as a sig- 
 nal to Delaney and the servants to stay where 
 they were. He took one step forward. The 
 white writing paper and envelope from the cem- 
 etery company were upon the table. The stump 
 of a half-smoked cigar draped over this table's 
 edge like a gun on a parapet. It was cold and 
 without ash. 
 
 The smaller of the two tables was overturned. 
 The whisky bottle and glass lay at the edge of 
 the rug nearest the wall. The telephone trans- 
 
58 :WHISPERING WIRES 
 
 mitter and receiver were upon the Imrdwood 
 floor, where they had fallen with the butts of 
 two Havana cigars and the ash trays and match 
 boxes. 
 
 . Stookbridge was crumpled iato a twisted knot 
 against the rich wainscoting. His head was half 
 under his left shoulder. His iron-gray hair was 
 singed black over the left ear. 
 
 Drew leaned with one hand on the corner of 
 the table and peered downward. He called the 
 magnate's name. He repeated it. He turned 
 toward the doorway. His hand raised. His 
 finger pressed against his lips. 
 
 "Stockbridge is dead," he told Delaney, who 
 glided to his side. "He is dead. He was shot 
 to death in this sealed room. I wonder who 
 did it!" 
 
 "Ah, Singl" shrieked the magpie. "Ah, 
 Sing! Ah, Singl" 
 
CHAPTER FIVE 
 
 THE PIBST CliEWS 
 
 THE magpie's words, repeated over and 
 over as Drew and Delaney stood in tha 
 room of death, struck both men as a pos- 
 sible clew. It was more than likely that the 
 murderer or the murdered man had shouted 
 something, the moment the shot was fired. This 
 exclamation might have been, "Ah, Sing I" 
 The bird had repeated something it had memo- 
 rized, or retained in its shallow brain. 
 
 "Ah, Sing!" suggested Drew, keenly on the 
 alert "Ah, Sing, eh f Never forget that ! We 
 may need it — ^later." 
 
 "Sounds like a Chinaman," said the operar 
 tive. * * Stockbridgo was shot by a Chink ! " 
 
 "Get busy ! Go over the room and look for a 
 possible hiding place. You, butler, stand across 
 that doorway ! Don 't move from there I ' ' Drew 
 wheeled and stared at the white faces of the 
 servants which were framed in the somber cur- 
 tains of the opening to the hall. 
 
 The detective swung back. He rounded the 
 large table with slow steps. He bent down. 
 
 69 
 
60 WHISPEEING WIRES 
 
 One knee touched the rug. He reached and 
 grasped the magnate's stiff arm. He worked 
 it like a hinge. He felt of the muscles. They 
 were rigid. 
 
 EisiQg, Drew again tested the air of the li- 
 brary. He glanced at Delaney, who was open- 
 ing the book-case doors. 
 
 "What do you smell?" he asked sharply. 
 
 The operative turned and sniffed with widen- 
 ing nostrils. 
 
 "It's powder!" he said. "Gunpowder, 
 .Chief." 
 
 "Sure!" 
 ; "It's Mnd-a peculiar — at that." 
 
 "Explain yourself — ^be clear!" 
 
 Delaney scratched his head. "I'd say, Chief, 
 it was smokeless powder. It don't smell like 
 Jthe ordinary kind." 
 
 "I saw smoke when I came in!" 
 
 "That smokeless stuff smokes. It ain't al- 
 together what they call it. Eemember the shoot- 
 in '-gallery at Headquarters? There's smoke 
 there when the police are practicing with them 
 steel-jacketed bullets." 
 
 "You're right," said Drew. "Keep on look- 
 > ing about. I'm getting on. Stockbridge was 
 shot at very close range behind and under the 
 left ear. The weapon used was a small-caliber 
 revolver. The bullet is tmdoubtedly lodged ia 
 the lower brain. Powder stains are ia his hair. 
 
THE FIRST CLEWS 61 
 
 The opening is clotted shut. He fell forward. 
 In falling he knocked over the little table with 
 its load of asb-trays, match-boxes, telephone, 
 cigar butts and the whisky bottle and the glass. 
 He's been dead some time." 
 
 "I 'e'rd no shot!" cried the butler from the 
 doorway. 
 
 Drew wheeled. "You wouldn't," he said 
 sharply. "Delaney," he added, "say, De- 
 laney, get out your note book and pencil I 
 want to put down everything we can think of 
 before I send for the coroner. We'll take a 
 complete record. This thing is diabolical. You 
 see nothing?" ' 
 
 "Nothing," echoed Delaney as he slammed a 
 book-ease door shut, dusted his fingers and,' 
 reached in his pocket. * ' There's nobody planted 
 in this room — that's a fact, Chief. That's what 
 gets me. How was the murder done?" 
 
 ' * Speculation is useless — ^now ! Get ready for, 
 notes." 
 
 "I'm ready. Chief." 
 
 The detective strode across the library rugs 
 and snapped on the wall switch by jabbing at a 
 mother-of-pearl button. Each time he jabbed, 
 more lights came on. The room flooded with 
 soft glowing from concealed globes. This glow 
 brought out the full details of the palatial in- 
 terior. Drew chewed at his mustache thought- 
 fully. He measured the walls with his eyes. Qe 
 
^ WHISPERING WIRES 
 
 glided swiftly toward the windows. He thrust 
 aside the heavy curtains of one and glanced up- 
 ward. 
 
 ' "Closed and locked," he said to Delaney. 
 ' ' Put that down. There's show on the sill which 
 has drifted through the outer slats. Put that 
 down. No siga of footprints. Put that down. 
 Now, the upper parti" 
 
 He olimhed up on the ornate radiator box. 
 His fingers went over the catch. "Looked 
 here!" he said, glancing down. "Locked and 
 the same as it was. Make a note of that!" 
 
 He spreing down and examined the other win- 
 dow. He went over the sill and the catch with 
 absorbed intentness. His teeth bit against his 
 upper lip. He shook his head as be turned. 
 
 "No chance for a bullet to have been fired 
 tiirough these windows I " he declared positively. 
 "No chance at all. This end of the library is 
 sealed as far as we are concerned. Now, we'll 
 consider the only other opening — ^the door!" 
 
 "Double locks, Delaney," he called over his 
 shoulder as he crossed the yoom and pressed 
 the butler back into the hall. "Double locks of 
 the superior order. Gold knobs and key-holes. 
 The holes are not in line. The chamfering is 
 clean, except where you struck it once or twice 
 with the ax. No sign of outside tampering or 
 jimmy work. I'd say we've covered this door, 
 ^y suggestions?" 
 
THE FIRST CLEWS 63 
 
 Delaney tried both the inner lock and the bolt 
 which was actuated with a gold butterfly-wing 
 of heavy construction. He studied the flat key. 
 It was gold-plated. He dropped to his knees 
 and went over the entire lower ohamf eriag with ] 
 his broad finger. 
 
 He said, "No suggestions, Chief. This Was 
 locked twice, until we broke a hole through with 
 an ax. I don't see ^" 
 
 "Make a note of everything!" ordered Drew 
 with a sharp glance at the waiting servants. 
 "Make a full record of what we have found — 
 including your exact interpretation of the mag- 
 pie 's words. "What were they ? ' ' 
 
 "Ah, Singl" 
 
 "I think the same. Let's look the bird over. 
 Perhaps it will repeat." 
 
 The two detectives strode to the bird-cage. 
 "I'm going to send for Fosdick and the coro- 
 ner, " said Drew hastily. ' * We We got to hurry. 
 What do you make of this bird? Could it have 
 had anything to do with the murder?" 
 
 The magpie protested agaiust this accusa- 
 tion. Its feathers rufiBed. Its claws clamped 
 over the perch. Its tail extended upward and 
 seemed to dart with indignation. 
 
 "Ah, Sid!" exclaimed Drew close up to the 
 gilded bars. "Ah, Sid. Ah, Sid!" he repeated 
 as the bird sprang to the bottom of the cage 
 
64 WHISPEEINa WIRES 
 
 and set this jumping up and down at tlie end of 
 tiie spring, 
 
 "No go," said Delaney. "This black parrot 
 don't like our looks." 
 
 Drew fingered the cage. He tested the spring. 
 He stooped and glanced underneath. He tapped 
 the belfry. It was of inlaid wood. It rang 
 solid. "No use," he said. "This is aU, all 
 light. Let's get to the other matters before 
 the dews get cold. Look everywhere for a pos- 
 sible trap-door or a secret panel. Test the 
 walls. Move the book-cases. Turn the pictures. 
 Lift up the rugs. Then put everythiag back 
 like you found it. Fosdick wiU be on the job 
 with both feet and the Homicide Squad, before 
 we know it. "We haven't much time." Drew 
 glanced at his watch as Delaney started by mov- 
 ing out one of the book-cases. 
 
 The detective ignored the body which lay 
 upon the floor near the Kttle table. He was 
 holding his investigation down to outside facts, 
 aad bringing them to bear upon the crux of 
 the matter. In this way, he believed, he would 
 secure better results. He did not want to be 
 blinded by an impossibility at the beginning. 
 His first glance at Stockbridge sufl5eed to as- 
 sure him that the lethal instrument which had 
 felled the magnate was not in evidence. The 
 bright light from a score of globes would reveal 
 any such object as a revolver or rifle. No one 
 
THE FIRST CLEWS 65 
 
 of the servants had seen anything. They still 
 were peering into the room like men and womrai 
 who had lost aU they owned. Stockbridge, de- 
 spite his temper and sins, had been a good mas- 
 ter to those who served him without question- 
 ing. 
 
 Drew glared at his watch for a second time, 
 in preoccupation. He strode to the library door 
 and beckoned a hooked finger toward the butler 
 who towered over the other servants. 
 
 ' * You ! " he exclaimed. "You didn 't obey or- 
 ders. You dida't stay where you were told to 
 stay! "Why did you leave this door at all?" 
 
 "S' 'elp me, sir, I didn't, Mr. Drew. If I did 
 it wasn't farther than the foyer or the down- 
 stairs steps. I took very careful pains to call 
 the second-man, sir, when I went after yoTi." 
 
 Drew's eyes smoldered with inner fire. "I 
 told you," he repeated, "I told you to stay by 
 this door and not leave it — even for a minute. 
 You went after the second-man, by your own 
 admission. You went to the foyer haU. You 
 went to the staircase leading down to the lower 
 part of the house. In other words, you dida't 
 watch the door, and you lost your master 
 through your own foolishness!" 
 
 "But, sir, nobody could 'ave gotten through 
 the door. Hit was locked and bolted on the hia- 
 aide, sir! I 'e'rd Mr. Stockbridge do that when 
 you left 'im! I did, sir!" 
 
66 WHISPEEING WIRES 
 
 "We may have been mistaken when "W© 
 thought we heard that! Perhaps he just fum- 
 bled with the looks, and left it unlocked." Drew 
 eyed the servant's red face with a keen-lidded 
 glance. He waited. 
 
 "That cawn't be right, sir," said the butler, 
 after thought and a wild glance about. * * 'Ow 
 can that be right? I tried the door when the 
 telephone loidy called me hup ! I tried hit twice. 
 James tried hit ! 'E fixes hall the locks in the 
 'ouse, sir. 'E says it was most excellently se- 
 cured, sir." 
 
 "How about that?" asked Drew, turning to 
 the second-man. ""What of that, James?" 
 
 " 'E's right. I'm a little of every thin' about 
 the 'ouse. I tends the door and I watches the 
 lights and looks, sir. I was bom in Brixton, sir, 
 where the old man kept a look-shop, sir. That's 
 twenty years, and more ago, sir. Beggin' your 
 pardon, sir." 
 
 Drew swung upon the butler. The second- 
 man was the living picture of truth. His dere- 
 liction, if any, might consist in sly tapping of 
 the wine-cellar. His nose attested to this habit, 
 in a brilliant rosette. 
 
 "You're partly to blame!" Drew told the 
 butler. "There's nobody in this room who 
 could have committed the murder. There was 
 nobody here when we left Mr, Stockbridge. 
 There is no way for anybody to get ia, save 
 
THE FIRST CLEWS ©7, 
 
 tiirough this door. The same applies in getting 
 out — escaping. If yon were awake and always 
 here, and if you were honest," he added, "I 
 could presume that the master was slain by — 
 well, let us say, unnatural causes. Such things 
 do not exist. This is a material age. Nothing 
 as much as a pin-head or point was ever moved 
 save through a natural cause. No bullet could 
 be fired into a man's brain without a hand whiob. 
 planned or pulled the trigger." 
 
 The butler stared at Drew with blank expres- 
 sion. He gulped. His eyes dropped. "I'm 
 thinking," he said, "that the whole blym oc- 
 currence his unnatural. I never left that door 
 until they told me the telephone company's loidy 
 wanted me on the wire. It was then I left it." 
 
 "Ah!" said Drew. "We're getting there. 
 Then, if you are speaking truth, and I won't 
 help you if you are not, we have reached a point 
 in the case which will bear considerable thought. 
 ,It is evident that Stookbridge was murdered by 
 a pistol shot, at or about the time the table 
 and contents were spilled over. In other words, 
 the shot which bowled him over brought down, 
 with it the telephone transmitter and receiver. 
 That is the thing which fixes, within minutes — ' 
 perhaps seconds — ^the time of the murder. The 
 telephone girl will have a record which will help 
 us considerable. Many criminals have been 
 caught — and convicted by the time element 
 
68 WHISPERING WIEES 
 
 There is no aJibi against truth! A man can't 
 be in two places at the same time!" 
 
 Drew turned toward the door. He hesitated 
 and wheeled. 
 
 "You heard nothing fall in ithis room?" h© 
 asked sharply. 
 
 "I did not, sir." 
 
 "No shotr' 
 
 "I cawn't say that I did, sir." 
 
 "No telephone bell ringing? Ringing at any 
 time after I left the house?" 
 
 "Not downstairs, sir." 
 
 "Ton did!" 
 
 " 'Ow, sir?" 
 
 "Didn't you tell me the telephone company 
 rang up and wanted you to put the receiver on 
 the hook in the library?" 
 
 "I didu't 'ear it ring. James brought the 
 word, sir." 
 
 ' * Then, what happened upstairs ? ' ' 
 
 " 'Ow do you know, sir? 'Ow'd you know it 
 rang up there!" 
 
 "By elimination! It rang then, in Loris* 
 room? You said 'nothing downstairs' in such 
 a way I presume it rang upstairs." 
 
 The butler stroked his chin. It was blue and 
 close-shaved. The purple of his cheeks and 
 neck had deepened. He glanced about the hall- 
 way. His eyes wandered toward the grand 
 stairway which coiled upward to the second 
 
THE FIEST CLEWS 69 
 
 story. "I'm 'iding nothing, sir," he said. 
 "Miss Loris often is called up at night. She's 
 very popular, sir. I 'e'rd 'er telephone ringing 
 once or twice while I was standing by this door, 
 waiting for the master to come out — ^which 'e 
 never did." 
 
 Drew hesitated. He plucked out his watch 
 and glanced at the dial. He turned swiftly. 
 "Stay right there," he said as he parted the 
 portieres and faced Delaney who wore the puz- 
 zled expression of a man baffled and entirely 
 at sea. 
 
 "What did you find?" he snapped to the op- 
 erative. 
 
 "Not a thing, Chief." Delaney mopped his 
 brow with his sleeve. "Nothing at all!" he 
 added. "Everything regular. Modern — ^very 
 modern house! Thick, new, fireproof, sound- 
 proof, million-dollar building. No trapdoors or 
 panels. No loose boards. No hole in 'the ceil- 
 ing. No nothing to hang a ghost on. The gun- 
 man who shot Stockbridge went right up in blue 
 smoke. Chief. I quit!" 
 
 Drew glided around the table and kneeled by 
 the magnate's body. His swift, light-fingered 
 touch went through the trousers and vest. The 
 pockets he turned inside out. The watch at- 
 tracted his attention. Its dial had been cracked 
 by the fall. A splinter of glass pressed against 
 the minute hand. He rose with a low cry. He 
 
TO WHISPERING WIRES 
 
 pressed the repeater and listened to the time 
 chimes. He counted the strokes. He had a test 
 in a million. Had the watch been tampered 
 with by the murderer, the chimes would have 
 proved a lie. It was possible to set the hands to 
 any position. It would be difficult to change 
 both the hands and the repeater. 
 
 "Delaney !" he said with his dark eyes glow- 
 ing, "we've got the exact time of the murder. 
 As I told the butler — ^it is very important. Both, 
 chimes and hands, show that Stookbridge was 
 shot at four minutes and eighteen seconds past 
 midnight — ^this morning! This is a fine watch. 
 It cost several thousand dollars. Robbery was 
 not the motive. An ordinary crook, and they're 
 aU ordinary — ^with few exceptions — ^would have 
 taken this tunepiece." 
 
 "That's aU right," said Delaney with a quick 
 frown. "That's fine, Chief, but — ^but how did 
 that exceptional — crook get into this room? 
 How did he get out? That's what I want to 
 know I" 
 
 Drew combed his fingers through his black 
 hair. He described a complete circle about the 
 library, with his eyes taking in everything, be- 
 fore he faced Delaney. 
 
 "I don't know!" he said frankly. "I don't 
 want to think of it, either. We'll turn the case 
 over to other men for the time. I»et them do 
 
THE FIEST CLEWS 71 
 
 some tbinking. I believe we bave secured every- 
 tbing we want." 
 
 Tbe detective dropped bis glance to tbe tele- 
 pbone receiver upon tbe floor at Stockbridge'a 
 elbow. He stooped, grasped tbe silk-iasulated 
 oord, and fisbed it up. 
 
 "I'U try to get Central," be said. "Tbia bas 
 been off a long wbUe. Sbe may bave sent tbe 
 trouble-man again." 
 
 Drew worked tbe book of tbe 'pbone up and 
 down. He was answered after a sbort wait. 
 Tbe girl's surprised voice at bearing life at 
 tbe end of a dead set of wires was drowned in 
 tbe detective's request to get bim, "Spring 3100 
 * — quickly!" 
 
 "Hello! Hello!" said Drew as be got tbe 
 connection. "Hello! Is tbis Spring 31001 It 
 is? Wbo's talking? . . . Jones? Tbis you, 
 Jones ? . . . Say, Jones, plug me iu on tbe Fifth 
 Deputy Commissioner's private bouse wire! 
 . . . Sir? ... I don't care! . . . Tbis is Drew 
 talking. . . . Drew! . . . D^ — r — re — 'w! . . . 
 Tbat'srigbt . . . Drew, of Drew's Agency!" 
 
 Tbe Detective turned. He eyed Delaney wbo 
 was searching tbe floor about tbe millionaire's 
 up-turned sboes. He tapped tbe receiver against 
 tbe transmitter's silver-plated edge. His eyes 
 lifted. His lips hardened as the diaphragm of 
 tbe receiver vibrated harshly. 
 
 * * Hello ! " he answered tersely. * * Hello ! This 
 
72 WHISPEEING WIEES 
 
 you. Commissioner! Is this Fosdiekf . . • 
 This is Drew talking. Yes! . . . Drew. . . • 
 Yes I I say, Fosdick, there's been a inurder 
 csommitted at Stockbridge's. . . . You know — 
 the munitions magnate! . . . The millionaire! 
 . . . Morphy's old partner." 
 
 Drew waited a moment. H© dropped his eyes 
 upon the body below him. 
 
 "Yes!" he continued into tiie transmitter. 
 "Yes, Fosdick. I hear better, now. Yes—* 
 Stockbridge is dead I . . . He's stone dead! He 
 was shot down in cold blood! . . . Yes! . . . 
 Shot in the brain. . . . Yes! Send your best 
 operatives. . . . Yes! . . . Send a finger-print 
 man and photographer. You'll need 'em! . . . 
 Yes I . . . Yes ! . . . Shot with a small-bore re- 
 volver, I guess! . . . Wound behind ear looks 
 Kkeit! What? . . . No! . . . Boom was bolted. 
 ... He was inside. . . . Butler on guard. . . . 
 Windows closed and locked I ... No I . . .No I 
 . . . No! . . . It wasn't suicide. He was threat- 
 ened twice, this time! ... By letter and tele^ 
 phone call. . . . What? . . . What? ... No! 
 . . . He didn't shoot himself! . . . There's no 
 gun. It's on the left side — close up! . . . Hair 
 is singed . . . flesh is powder spotted. . . . 
 Burned? . . . Yes. . . . You'll be right up? 
 
 . Yes! . . . I'll be waiting! . . . Come! 
 
 . , . come 
 
 Djreir lowered the receiver and clicked it upon 
 
BEN JOHNSON, IN "WHISPERING WIRES" AT THE 4';th STREET THEATRE 
 
THE FEBST CLEWS 73 
 
 the hook of the telephone which stood on the 
 hardwood floor. He slowly turned toward the 
 open doorway of the library. The servants had 
 drawn back and out of sight. Delaney leaned 
 forward with both hands on his bent knees. A 
 girl's voice had sounded in the mansion. It 
 came closer. The portieres parted with a silken 
 sweep. Drew braced himself against the larger 
 table. His hand went back to his hip. It 
 dropped to his side. He stared across the flood 
 of light with line-drawn eyehds. 
 
 Loris Stockbridge, gowned in lace chiffon and 
 cloaked with ermine and sable, glided across the 
 rugs and stood framed beneath the soft, rose- 
 light of the central dome. Her dusk-black eyes 
 burned and blazed like flame through tinder 
 smoke as she confronted the detective. 
 
 Clasped in the fingers of her jewelless right 
 hand was a tiny, ivory-handled revolver. 
 
 "What are all these people doing here?" she 
 asked hysterically. 
 
CHAPTER SIX 
 
 "habbt Nichols" 
 
 DETECTIVE TEIGGY DREW flushed 
 sligMly beneatli his olive skin. He 
 bowed, with his keen eyes fixed upon 
 the little, ivory-handled revolver clutched so 
 tightly in Loris Stockbridge's right hand. He 
 bowed for a second time. His eyes lifted and 
 his brows arched as he said distinctly : 
 
 "Miss Stookbridge, something very serious 
 has happened to your father. It happened in 
 this library. It happened this morning. "Won't 
 you please go back upstairs to your rooms 
 until I call for you. At present I am in charge 
 of matters." 
 
 ' ' Matters ? What do you mean ? " 
 
 The girl swayed slightly. She glanced down 
 at the revolver as if she were unaware that it 
 was in her hand. Drew advanced a step in her 
 direction. HTe feared a woman and a gun more 
 than anything else in the world. Both were lia- 
 ble to form a dangerous combination. 
 
 "Something happened," he repeated. "I'm 
 very sorry for you, Miss Stockbridge." 
 
 74 
 
"HAEEY NICHOLS" 75 
 
 *' Happened ! ' ' she exclaimed. ' ' Happened to 
 him? You don't mean that letter — ^that tele- 
 phone call — do yon?" 
 
 Loris' splendid, dusky eyes, within the depths 
 of which high lights shone, wandered over the 
 polished table. They fastened upon the en- 
 velope from the cemetery company. They fixed 
 where the letter lay with one comer beneath the 
 center piece. They lifted in thought. They 
 swung toward the waiting detective who had 
 placed himself between her and the body of her 
 father. She divined this movement with quick 
 intuition. She stepped to one side and bent 
 downward with a graceful movement of her 
 hips. She gasped and pointed a left hand finger, 
 which wavered and went up to her hair as her 
 X>alm pressed against the side of her head. She 
 started sobbing — short, throaty sobs of poign- 
 ant distress. 
 
 "Please don't," whispered Drew holding out 
 a guarding arm. "Please don't, Miss Stock- 
 bridge. Your father is beyond this earth. You 
 should not have come down here." 
 
 "Dead?" 
 
 The word came from the depths of a soul. 
 "Dead?" she repeated with her taper fingers 
 spreading across her face. 
 
 "Yes, Miss," said Drew with a catch in his 
 voice. "Yes, he is quite dead. He was slain in 
 this room by a revolver shot which struck be- 
 
76 WHISPEEINQ WIRES 
 
 hind and under his left ear. No one was in the 
 library when he looked himself in, save himself. 
 No one was here when we broke the door down. 
 And, save his sextants and you, no one was in 
 this house. He was " 
 
 " Murdered 1" Loris' voice had lifted to one 
 wild shriek of final conviction and grief. She 
 swayed. Her knees bent beneath her skirt and 
 bulged outwardly. She sank into a slow faint 
 at the detective's feet. She pillowed her head 
 upon the rug. A silence followed. 
 
 Drew slooped, after a glance at the servants 
 in the doorway, thrust his body as a barrier, 
 and reached along Loris' white arm until his 
 hand closed over the barrel of the little re- 
 volver. He untwisted her cold fingers, and 
 palmed the weapon under a shielding cuff. He 
 rose, saying to Delaney, who had hurried for- 
 ward: 
 
 "I'll take charge of this." 
 
 "Sure, Chief. Plant it. She didn't have it." 
 
 "She had it all right, but — we'll suspend 
 judgment. Ton and the butler carry her up- 
 stairs. Go easy. Her bedroom is on the third 
 floor, I think. That's the reason she didn't come 
 down, sooner. Perhaps, well, I say, she didn't 
 hear ug breaking down the door. We are her 
 agents in this matter, now. Eemember that, 
 and say nothing to anybody. I'll do the talk- 
 ing." 
 
"HAREY NICHOLS" 77 
 
 Drew dropped his hand into Ms side pocket. 
 It came out without the revolver but with a 
 handkerchief between his fingers. He mopped 
 his brow gracefully, then replaced the handker- 
 chief. The motion was a natural one. 
 
 He followed Delaney and the butler with their 
 soft burden as far as the first steps of the stair- 
 way. He turned and strode back to the door- 
 way leading into the library. He faced about 
 ia this. He eyed the servants, who lowered 
 their heads beneath his accusing scrutiny. Fo- 
 cusing his gaze to a searching squint he tried to 
 single out a culprit from their midst. There 
 seemed to be none. Each face was terror-lined 
 and drawn. Each seemed to want to avoid his 
 direct glance. None of all of them faced him 
 with boldness or assurance. It was as he ex- 
 pected things to be. There was no evidence 
 shown in the case that the servants of the Stock- 
 bridge regime had ever threatened the master. 
 They were old, tried and trusted. They had 
 the faults of their kind. These faults only 
 served to strengthen Drew's opinion that ^he 
 murderer of the magnate had struck from the 
 outside, without benefit of inside information. 
 The letter and the telephone call were foreign. 
 A note, pinned upon the millionaire's pillow, 
 would have been more effective. Nothing had 
 been tried like that. This proved to Drew that 
 
78 WHISPEEING WIEES 
 
 lie eould eliminate the servants, for the time 
 being. 
 
 "Which one of you is the valet?" he asked 
 with final resolve. 
 
 "I am, sir!" 
 
 Drew ran his eyes over an aged man in white 
 vest and tight-fitting clothes which were studded 
 here and there with gold-plated buttons. The 
 fit of the stockings — ^the neatness of the low 
 patent-leather shoes — the smartness and aloof- 
 ness of the individual, caused the detective to 
 smile slightly. The man was better dressed 
 than his master. 
 
 "Tour native country, isi Germany?" said 
 Drew. 
 
 "It was, sir." 
 
 "No, it is yet. You can't change that iiart 
 of it. "When did you come to the United 
 States?" 
 
 "Fourteen — fifteen years ago, sir. The mas- 
 ter brought me f rofli England where I was em- 
 ployed by the Right Honorable Arthur Sand- 
 hurst, sir." 
 
 "You are now a naturalized American?" 
 
 "Going on thirteen years, sir." 
 
 "Come down to my office about noon toTmor- 
 row. I want to speak to you then. I haven't 
 time now. Be sure you bring that magpie with 
 you." Drew turned and jerked his thumb to-! 
 
"HAERY NICHOLS" 79 
 
 ward the front of the Kbrary. "Do you under- 
 stand?" 
 
 "I do, sir!" 
 
 * ' That *s all ! " exclaimed the detective, * * One 
 of you may stand by the door until Mr. Delaney 
 returns. The rest may go downstairs. Remem- 
 ber, no talking to anybody but accredited po- 
 lice officers, who will soon be here." 
 
 "I'll stand guard!" Einnounced the second- 
 man with, a pompous voice. "Nobody '11 get 
 by me, sir. I'll 'ave theiji know I'm right 'ere, 
 sir." 
 
 Drew backed through the curtains as the sec- 
 ond-man was speaking. He dropped them be- 
 hind him and started another search, which was 
 done in solitude and in silence. He went over 
 everything in the library with the trained eyes 
 of an operative who had learned his profession 
 in many schools. He left deduction and sur- 
 mise for a later hour. He was after cold facta 
 which mightlead to an answer to the riddle. He 
 held, with some slight scorn, the theory of the 
 armchair detective and the puzzle worked out 
 by retrospection. His experience had been, that 
 only through hard work could he expect to find 
 his answer. He had been credited with visiting 
 six hundred laundries in search of a certain 
 mark. He had a note book filled with his fail- 
 ures to find the man he was after. The men he 
 had found caused him no concern whatsoever:. 
 
80 3?yHISPEEING WIEES 
 
 They had gone to prison and closed their ae- 
 eounts with him. 
 
 He applied hard work over the minntes to the 
 case at hand. He went over the body of the 
 aged millionaire. He took scrapings of the 
 blood stains on the floor. He scratched up some 
 few atoms of dried whisky. He examined the 
 bottle. He searched each square inch under and 
 about the body. He went through Stockbridge 's 
 pockets and beneath his vest. He tried every- 
 thing ia the way of getting facts which might 
 bear on the case. A tapemeasure furnished 
 certain distances which were recorded upon the 
 back of an envelope. His data was complete;, 
 insofar as he had time to go. He desired to 
 spend at least twelve hours ia the library. This 
 could not be. The case would be taken from 
 his hands within minutes. Already there was a 
 stir in the front part of the house. The bell had 
 been ringing for some time. Delaney and the 
 butler had hastened forward to answer it. 
 
 "The Central Office bunch!" announced the 
 operative, parting the curtains and staring in at 
 Drew. "Here they are, Chief!" 
 
 The detective stepped briskly out of the room 
 and glided through the foyer hall to the front 
 door. Here Delaney joined him, as steps were 
 heard coming up from the servants* quarters 
 as well as outside. It was as if a raid were in 
 progress. 
 
"HAERT NICHOLS" 81 
 
 "Brass band methods 1" said Drew. **You 
 get out, Delaney, and go to our taxi. Stay 
 there ! I want to speak to Fosdick. ' ' 
 
 The door opened. A burly form blotted out 
 the light from the Avenue and stamped in, shak- 
 ing the snow from his overcoat It was Fos- 
 dick — Chief of Detectives. 
 
 "HeUo," he said cuttingly. "Hello, Drew! 
 "What's this you've been giving me over the 
 'phone?" 
 
 The detective drew Fosdick aside and allowed 
 five Central Office men to stream into the hall- 
 way. 
 
 "Go and see," he suggested into the detec- 
 tive's ear. "Go and see. I've left everything 
 just as I found it. The body is still there. The 
 servants have been kept in the house. Ques- 
 tion them. I'm off, now. 'Phone me not later 
 than eight this morning. I'U be at my office. 
 I'm acting in a private capacity. I'm protect- 
 ing Loris Stoekbridge — ^the sole heir 1** 
 
 "Protecting!" exclaimed Fosdick. "What 
 d'ye mean?" 
 
 Drew dropped his hand to his pocket and 
 ; crammed down the little ivory-handled revolver. 
 ""Well," he smiled broadly. "You know what 
 I mean. She's alone in this world — save for 
 her friends. The old man called me in the case. 
 I'm still ia the case — remember that!" 
 
 Fosdick gulped hard. "Alright," he said, 
 
82 WHISPEEING WIRES 
 
 turning and peeling off his coat. "I'll soon get 
 to the hottom of this ! Case looks easy to me. 
 It 's suicide I That 's all it ever could be ! " 
 
 Drew found his hat and coat where the butler 
 had hung them. He went out through the front 
 door without answering Fosdick. He crossed 
 the Avenue on a diagonal which brought him to 
 the waiting taxi where Delaney stood muffled 
 to the chin. The two men climbed upon the run- 
 ning-board. The driver started up with a jerk, 
 from his frozen position in the snow. They; 
 rormded the block and stopped in front of the 
 drug-store where Loris had met the oflBcer. 
 
 The Central Office man who had taken 
 O 'Toole's place had little to report. O'Tool© 
 had vanished toward the south. !When last seen 
 he was close on the heels of the man in olive- 
 drab. 
 
 "Come on, Delaney," said Drew at this in- 
 formation. "We'll walk over to Fifili Avenue 
 and then downtown. The driver can pick up 
 our men in the alley. I want to clear my Ta,ead 
 of this muddle. A walk will do it ! " 
 
 Delaney fell in behind his chief. They turned 
 the comer. They struck through a side street 
 and westward. They saw ahead of them the 
 white expanse of untrodden snow, and beyond 
 this the faint blue barricade of the Palisades. 
 
 The hour was after three. The crisp under- 
 footing brought, wine to their cheeks. .The grip 
 
"HAEEY NICHOLS" 83 
 
 of winter air cleared both men's heads like a 
 draught of ether. They stepped out. Their 
 shoulders went back. Their thoughts passed 
 from the case at the mansion to other things. 
 The night had been filled with a thousand disap- 
 pointments. Greatest of these was the stabbing 
 memory that they both had been picked by the 
 multimillionaire to protect him and save him 
 from his enemies. They had failed in this trust. 
 Their patron lay dead, and somewhere a whis- 
 pering voice chuckled over a victory. 
 
 "Fifth Avenue!" announced Drew as they 
 reached the comer. "Now, downtown, De- 
 laney," he added cheerily. "Old Kris Kringle 
 has nothing on us to-night. I believe we're the 
 only ones out." 
 
 The operative caught hisi chief's humor, and 
 glanced into his face with a smile. "Whew!" 
 he breathed. "Whew!" he repeated from the 
 depths of his lungs. "I'm glad, Triggy, to get 
 from that damn house and that damn magpie 
 and that " 
 
 "So am I ! " said Drew, thrusting out his hand 
 and linking his elbow into the cove of Delaney's 
 arm. "So am I. Fine night for the poor firm 
 of Drew and Company." 
 
 Delaney glanced around and over his left 
 shoulder. He blinked with frosty lids as he 
 saw the towering facades of Stockbridge's man- 
 sion; its turrets and towers spiraled in the win- 
 
U WHISPEEING WIKES 
 
 ter sky. He drew in Ms lips and compressed 
 tiiem. He puffed them out as he turned. 
 
 "I'm deducting," he said, "that there's more 
 at the bottom of this thing than we think. Put 
 it down for me that the Germans are mixed up 
 in it." 
 
 Drew walked on for a block before he an- 
 swered. He gripped the operative's arm by 
 closing his own as he said: 
 
 "Quit deducting! It's fatal! Get your 
 facts ! Get all of them. The answer will com© 
 then, without an effort. It will be the right an- 
 swer or none at all." 
 
 "Just the same, Chief " 
 
 "The trouble with you," broke in Drew se- 
 verely, "the trouble is, that you are foroiiig 
 a conclusion to meet your own suspicions. The 
 Germans, with the exception of a small clique, 
 are behaving very well in this country at the 
 present time. In other words, the most of them 
 are good Americans and sane." 
 
 "Thatwalley-sham?" 
 
 "He is not even under consideration! Did 
 you notice him?" 
 
 "Sure, Chief!" 
 
 "Anything strike you as peculiar?" 
 
 "N— 0." 
 
 "There were tears in his eyes — ^the only ones 
 shed in that house for Stockbridge — outside of 
 ;the daughter." 
 
"HABEY NICHOLS" 85 
 
 Delajiey gulped. "I didn't see them," t© 
 aaid frankly. 
 
 "Nol "Well, I did — and when he wasn't ex- 
 pecting me to see them. A woman, is never 
 whoUy lost who can blush, of a man who can 
 shed tears." 
 
 ' "Sounds like good deduction," admitted the 
 operative. "But then, Chief, there are a lot 
 of fine actors in this world. I think there has 
 been some in this case." 
 
 "This case, Delaney," Drew said, "is like 
 many others which appear at first impossible 
 of solving. AU things can be solved by first 
 principles. Give me all the facts and I'll give 
 you the answer to any riddle. The answer will 
 come! Don't try to write your plot nntil you 
 have words to form your story. Don't make 
 the mistake of forcing an answer to father a 
 wish. In other words, Delaney, best of friends, 
 we haven't all the facts we are going to get in 
 this case and therefore it is idle to attempt to 
 deduce who shot Stockbridgel" 
 
 "Or how he was shot. Chief?" 
 
 "It's almost the same thing. Both answers 
 will come with hard work and plenty of it. We 
 must keep along the main stem. Truth is a tree 
 with many branches. It rises from the roots 
 named cause, and reaches the top called effect. 
 It springs from motive up to crime in one 
 straight stem. We must trim away he branches 
 
86 WHISPEEING WIRES 
 
 smd the false-work, and then we can see the 
 
 trunk." 
 
 "There's one I'd like to trim right now," 
 said Delaney, pausing in his snow-caked stride. 
 
 "Which one?" asked Drew. 
 
 "That noise in the library like a cat getting 
 its tail twisted." 
 
 "I can explain that!" 
 
 "It's been driving me to drink, Chief." 
 
 "The telephone company, Delaney, have a de- 
 vice they call a howler. They cnt this device 
 in on the wire when a receiver is left off the 
 hook. It is simply a high-frequency current 
 generated for the purpose of vibrating the re- 
 ceiver's diaphragm until somebody hears the 
 noise and puts the receiver back on the hook." 
 
 "It's a howler, all right. Chief!" 
 
 "Oftentimes a book or magazine gets under a 
 receiver and lifts it up an inch or more. This 
 attracts the attention of the central operator 
 who thinks somebody is trying to get a number. 
 When the situation is clear to her that the re- 
 ceiver is off the hook, or that the circuit is 
 closed without anybody being at the receiver 
 end, she notifies the wire-captain or chief-operar 
 tor. It was either one or the other who put the 
 howler on after Stockbridge was shot and the 
 'phone had fallen to the floor. Is that satis- 
 factory? Does that explain the noise we heard 
 in the library before we broke down the door! '•' 
 
'HAEEY NICHOLS" 87 
 
 <<i 
 
 'I see now, Chief. I thought all along it was 
 spirits like the rest of the job. Outside of 
 spirits, what is the answer to the things that 
 happened in that house? I know it. I deduct it, 
 Chief. The old man was expecting somebody 
 all of the time. He let this somebody into the 
 library when the butler wasn't looking. Maybe 
 it was a woman, for all we know. Maybe a Ger- 
 man spy. Maybe anybody. This somebody got 
 in an argument with him over spoils on some 
 deal, and shot him dead. That's my idea, 
 Chief!" 
 
 "You've missed your profession, Delaney. 
 You 'V6 disgraced the firm I How did the library 
 door get locked on the inside? How did that 
 happen? Did Stockbridge, shot through the 
 brain, rise and do it? It was mighty well 
 locked — ^you remember!" 
 
 "I never thought of that," admitted the oper- 
 ative. ' * Then it looks. Chief, as if it was a case 
 of suicide." 
 
 "Fosdick said the same thing without having 
 many facts. How could a right-handed man 
 shoot himself behind the left ear? How could 
 he do a thing like that and then get rid of the 
 weapon without leaving a trace of it? How — 
 oh, well, get facts and you won't ask such ques- 
 tions!" 
 
 "Then it was done by an outsider?" blurted 
 Delaney, staring through the wind-blown snow 
 
88 WHISPERING WIEES 
 
 which came off the housetops. "It was done 
 by the fellow who 'phoned and wrote that let- 
 ter, or had the letter written! I don't see how 
 he could do it!" 
 
 Drew smiled at Delaney's candor. "Neither 
 do I," he said simply. "But we've crossed 
 Forty-second Street and we're on the trail by 
 everyday, up-to-date methods which never fail 
 if they are continued long enough and men 
 work hard enough. We'll start with Harry 
 Nichols — the man in olive-drab! I've his ad- 
 dress!" 
 
CHAPTEE SEVEN 
 "the spot op bi*a,ck" 
 
 DELANEY stepped behind his chief and 
 followed in single file as the detective 
 swung from the Avenue at Thirty-ninth 
 Street and turned toward the east on the up- 
 town side of the thoroughfare. 
 
 The snow had ceased falling from out the 
 leaden sky. A roar came to them of the awaken- 
 ing city which was stirring in its last sleep. A 
 tug whistled hoarsely somewhere on the East 
 Eiver. Its blare and signal echoed down the 
 towering canyon. An answering rattle sounded 
 from the Elevated. A milk wagon churned by. 
 A deep-seagoing hansom-cab, of the vintage 
 of ten years before, struggled along Madison 
 Avenue as the two detectives paused on the 
 corner and sought a pathway through the snow 
 to the opposite side. 
 
 "Some night," said the operative, pulling 
 down his derby hat and facing Drew. "A hell 
 of-a night to be out. Good thing we walked, 
 though. My head is clearing." 
 
 "It needed clearing," said the detective. 
 
 8P 
 
90 WHISPERING WIRES 
 
 "Some of your deductions were impossible. 
 Whom do you suppose we're going to meet 
 here!" 
 
 "How should I know, Chief?" 
 
 "Guess!" 
 
 "Harry Nichols." 
 
 "Who else?" 
 
 "Search me, Chief." 
 
 "Who's that over across the street in the 
 shelter of the stoop! Seel He sees us! You 
 ought to know who that is !" 
 
 "He looks familiar," admitted Delaney. 
 
 "It's O'Toole!" 
 
 "That's right, Chief. It is! He tailed the lad 
 in the fur benny from the drug-store and came 
 here. The lad in the drug-store was Harry 
 Nichols. The thing works out all right." 
 
 "Get over to the other side of the street and 
 tell 'Toole that he can go home and get some 
 sleep. Tell him to be at the office not later than 
 eight 'clock— this morning. Get what informa- 
 tion you can from him. This brownstone house 
 with the sign out is our address. I'll wait on 
 the stoop." 
 
 Delaney was over in three minutes. "All 
 right," he said cheerfully. "O'Toole says that 
 Nichols left the drug-store and walked south. 
 Trail led to Fred's Old EngHsh Chop House 
 where Nichols drank a split of mineral water 
 and had a chop with a potato. He 'phoned twiee 
 
"THE SPOT OF BLACK' 91 
 
 before leaving. O 'Toole don't know vliere to. 
 TJie booth was sonnd-proof and all the lad did 
 was to drop coins. He left a piece of paper in 
 the booth. 'Toole got it. Here it is, Chief." 
 
 Drew slanted a torn portion of envelope and 
 studied its surface. He deciphered a scrawling 
 handwriting iuto the words, "Loris, Loris, 
 Gramercy Hill, Attorney Denman of Cedar 
 Street, will consult with him iu morning. . . . 
 Drew's Detective Agency . . . look out." 
 
 "Umphl" said Drew, pocketing the scrap of 
 paper with a thoughtful frown. * * That last may 
 be a warning. Again it could be a mere nota- 
 tion. What else did 'Toole find, Delaney?" 
 
 "That's all, except that he put the boy to bed 
 here at about one o'clock. There's a 'phone in 
 Nichols' apartment. O'Toole sneaked up the 
 stairs and heard it ringing. He had to com© 
 down for fear of queering things. He said 
 that's all, chief." 
 
 The detective turned and entered the storm- 
 door. He struck a match and, shielding it with 
 his hands, searched the names over the mail- 
 boxes. A neat card, set in well-polished 
 bronze, indicated, "Harry E. Nichols, Apart- 
 ment Three." 
 
 "He keeps this place all of the time," said 
 Drew, jabbing at the button. "He's down on 
 furlough or Government business. Nice place, 
 this," he added as the inner dpor-lock elided 
 
92 WHISPEEING WIRES 
 
 and he thrust his foot forward. "Looks like 
 about two hundred a month. This is exclusively 
 bachelor!" 
 
 "Them bachelor apartments," said Delaney 
 with candor as he glided into the hallway. 
 "Them places Mke this ain't what they seem. 
 There's some big parties pulled off in them. 
 I remembers " 
 
 "Sisst!" warned Drew, clutching the opera- 
 tive 's arm. * ' Easy, ' ' he whispered. * ' Come on. 
 Somebody is waiting upstairs for us. See his 
 head in the light by the banister. Same chap, 
 ain't it?" 
 
 " Cau 't see, Chief. Might be ! " 
 
 "Nice house," commented Drew as his feet 
 sank iu a deep-blue hall carpet. "Good orna- 
 ments and fixtures throughout the place. Nice 
 house I Just about what I'd expected. Here we 
 are. I'll do the talking." 
 
 A blond pompadour, under which was a pair 
 of wide gray eyes that blinked at them, greeted 
 the two detectives as they turned the last land- 
 ing. A thick-lipped mouth, in which was con- 
 siderable strength and determination, opened 
 and revealed a double row of strong, young 
 teeth that would have delighted an Army re- 
 cruiting sergeant. 
 
 "Well, what do you gentlemen want at this 
 lK)ur of the morning?" 
 
"THE SPOT OF BLACK" 93 
 
 Drew squared his shoulders and pressed De- 
 laney back a foot or more. 
 
 "Harry Nichols?" he asked brusquely. 
 
 **Yes, I'm Harry Nichols." 
 
 "Miss Stockbridge's friend!" 
 
 The gray eyes widened perceptibly. The lids 
 dropped ia heavy calculation. * ' Who are you ? ' ' 
 the young man asked pointblankly. "I don't 
 believe I ever had the pleasure of meeting either 
 of you gentlemen." Nichols glanced into De- 
 laney's leaning face which was just over his 
 chief's shoulder. 
 
 "No, you haven't," said Drew softening his 
 tone. "We've never met, but we may see con^ 
 siderable of each other. Here's my card!" 
 
 Nichols took the card, tilted it to the light 
 from the open door, then dropped it into the 
 right-hand side pocket of his lounging robe be- 
 neath which blue pajamas showed. 
 
 "Come in!" he said without committing him- 
 self. "Come in, and take off your hats. I've 
 only two rooms and a bath, here." 
 
 Drew stepped upon heavy rugs and crossed 
 the chamber to a chair. He turned this, re- 
 moved his hat, and sat down with his legs thrust 
 outward. His eyes roamed the place in slow 
 calculation. Dark, old masters, which were 
 probably good in their day, stared down at him. 
 A little globe, petticoated in soft silk, gave a 
 yellow light to the walls and floor. It brought 
 
94 WHISPEEING WIRES 
 
 oafc Niohols' features in sharp, actinio shadows. 
 Drew continued his searching glance. A bed, 
 with tossed coverlet and sheets, loomed from an 
 inner room. A table, upon which was an of- 
 ficer's cap and gloves, stood between two doors 
 that were closed. One of these doors, Drew con- 
 cluded, was the bathroom entrance, the other 
 might have been a closet. His eyes fastened 
 finally upon a telephone upon a dark-wood 
 stand. He lifted his chin. 
 
 "Montgomery Stockbridge is dead!" h© 
 snapped, darting at Harry Nichols the keen 
 sorutiny of a man salvoing a surprise. 
 
 Nichols glanced at the 'phone. "I know 
 Ihatl" he said with rising color. "I'm aware 
 of that fact, Mr. Drew." 
 
 "When did you first learn of it?" 
 
 "See here! I have your card. I know who 
 you are. I was almost expecting you, or an- 
 other detective. But," — ^Nichols' voice raised 
 to a determined key — "but, sir, I am not talk- 
 ing to anybody about what you just told me. 
 How do I know who you represent — ^the police 
 or the law or the " 
 
 ' ' You have talked with Miss Stockbridge. She 
 told you in the drug-store that I was in the 
 house. She has told you that I was called in 
 by her father. She undoubtedly 'phoned you, 
 after she recovered from her faint. You have 
 the details of the dastardly murder — if ever 
 
"THE SPOT OF BLACK" 95 
 
 there was one! I represent her. I represent 
 her friends. I have no other interest in this 
 ease!" 
 
 Harry Nichols drew out the card and studied 
 it. He glanced at Delaney. "Who is this 
 man?" he asked. 
 
 "My right bower. He's with me— and you 
 and Miss Loris. We're together in this. The 
 police now have the case. What I want is to 
 protect you and her from the police. What will 
 they do when they learn from the servants — ^ 
 which they will — ^that Miss Stockbridge had this 
 gun in her hand when she entered the library?" 
 
 Drew extended his pahn. In the hollow of it 
 lay the little ivory-handled revolver which he 
 had taken from Loris. 
 
 "What are they going to do when they learn 
 about this?" he asked with shrewd reasoning. 
 "Particularly, Mr. Nichols, when the caliber of 
 this revolver is probably the same caliber of the 
 buUet which entered, and is stiU in, Mr. Stock- 
 bridge 's brain." 
 
 The gray eyes narrowed. The lips com- 
 pressed until they were white. They seemed 
 drawn with pain. A faint hiss of surprise 
 sounded in the room. Harry Nichols turned and 
 strode to an ornate mantel-piece upon which 
 was a single cabinet photo. He lifted it im- 
 pulsively. He stared at the picture of Loris 
 Stockbridge as if in it lay inspiration and re- 
 
96 WHISPEEING WIRES 
 
 solve. He set the photo down and wheeled upon 
 Drew. His eyes blazed. 
 
 "If you have no connection in this case, save 
 as an adviser," he said clearly and from his 
 heart, "why are you trying to trap me or her? 
 Are all detectives ahke? Would they rather 
 see a man in jail than free?" 
 
 Drew closed his fingers over the little revolv- 
 er. He glanced upward at Delaney's towering 
 bulk which was near the doorway leading to the 
 outer hall. This door was the only way out of 
 the apartment. The detective gave no signal to 
 the operative. His fingers uncoiled and revealed 
 a thumb pressing upon the silver-plated barrel 
 from which the leaden noses of six bullets 
 showed as he turned it. 
 
 "You are wrong," he said with simple 
 naivete. "You wrong me in this matter. The 
 affair at Stockbridge's will sooner or later 
 bring you in contact with the Police Depart- 
 ment's Detective Bureau. Fosdick, the district 
 attorney, the coroner, may want to interview 
 you. The servants, the newspapers, idle tongues 
 will connect your name with that of Loris Stock- 
 bridge. This connection, taking in the fact that 
 she had a revolver of the same caliber as was 
 used to slay her father, may cause trouble. I 
 want -" 
 
 "How do you know it's the same revolver— 
 the same caliber?" 
 
"THE SPOT OF BLACK" 97 
 
 There was a stubborn defense in the young 
 man's tones which somewhat pleased the detec- 
 tive. It promised loyalty. 
 
 "It may not be the same revolver," Drew 
 said softly. "It may be that the murder was 
 not committed with a revolver. A rifle, held 
 close to a man's brain, would make the same 
 kind of mark and bums. I do know this, how- 
 ever, that the opening in Mr. Stockbridge's head 
 is the same size as my leadpencU — ^which I have 
 measured and found to be under a quarter- 
 inch. It would seem then that twenty-two cal- 
 iber might fit the wound. I know of no other 
 caliber very close to it." 
 
 "An army rifle," suggested Delaney from 
 the doorway. 
 
 "It is larger," said Nichols with a quick 
 frown. "The modified Lee-Enfields, which we 
 are now using, have a greater bore than the 
 British or German rifles. They are about .30 
 caliber." 
 
 "Whatever the case," Drew said, "we must 
 get to our first question. I'm trying to find 
 the truth and protect Miss Stockbridge from 
 the police in case she is suspected. Whose re- 
 volver is this? Who does it belong to? How 
 came she to have it so soon after meeting you 
 in the corner drug-store? Did she request it? 
 Perhaps you will clear these points and allow 
 me to go ahead." 
 
96 WHISPERING "WIEES 
 
 "Before I answer your questions, Mr. Drew, 
 before I say anything at all, I would rather 
 have a talk with Miss Loris. You see, we are 
 too good friends to act apart. I'll answer for 
 her. She is innocent! She is too good, too 
 pure to have anything to do with it. She never 
 shot the old— Mr. Stockbridge." 
 
 "He threw you out of the house on one oe- 
 oasion." 
 
 Harry Nichols clenched his fists. "I'U do tiie 
 same to you!" he exclaimed. "This is my 
 apartment. What right have you got coming 
 here and accusing Loris? I don't care who you 
 are!" 
 
 "Good!" said the detective, rising and step- 
 ping forward. "You said just what I wanted 
 you to say. And you said it like a man who 
 can wear an American uniform. Shake hands 1 ' ' 
 
 Harry Nichols did not exactly brighten under 
 the professional flattery. He held out his fin- 
 gers, however. Drew clasped his hand after 
 transferring the revolver to his left pahn. He 
 twirled it as he stepped backward. "Clean," 
 he said. "It don't seem to have been used for 
 some time. But then, who knows ! A gun can 
 be wiped and polished, — even in the barrel, — 
 in a very few minutes." 
 
 Drew glanced at Nichols with a silent ques- 
 tion in his eyes. Delaney had already sized 
 Nichols up as a very clever young man. He 
 
' "THE SPOT O:^ BLACK" 99 
 
 wa® not far wrong, as he learned when the de- 
 tediive's spoken question was shot through de- 
 t^mined lips, 
 
 "Nichols," said Drew, "did you lend Mias 
 Stockbridge this revolver? Is it yours ? I shall 
 have to turn it over to the police sooner or 
 later. They wiU trace it by the number." 
 
 "Is it fully loadedl" 
 
 Drew turned the barrel with his broad thumb. 
 He clicked the mechanism. He broke it and 
 held it out. 
 
 "Yes," he said. "Yes, it's fuUy loaded. 
 This is still a merry whirl for six !" 
 
 "Are you sure?" 
 
 "Positive, Nichols!" 
 
 The soldier's face cleared like a lake from a 
 storm. He beamed upon Drew. He smiled for 
 a second time. He pointed toward the chair 
 which the detective had quitted. "Sit down," 
 he said, "and make yourself at home. This is 
 a temperance dugout, but I've got some real 
 good soft stuff — grape jtiice or club soda, 
 "Which will you have?" 
 
 "I'U take a cigar," said Delaney. 
 
 Drew allowed a smile to creep over his lips. 
 He waited as Harry Nichols dipped into a kitch- 
 enette, then came back with three glasses of 
 soda and a huge black Havana. 
 
 "Smoke up," he said good-naturedly to De- 
 
100 WHISPERING WIRES 
 
 laney. "Light up and take a chair. It's day- 
 break", isn't it?" 
 
 "Yes, time we're going," said Drew, setting 
 his empty glass upon the offered tray. "We'll 
 go in a minute. Now, as I told you and as you 
 can see, this revolver is fully loaded. It looks 
 clean. I suppose you lent it to Miss Stock- 
 bridge without any empty cartridges. These 
 are the ordinary lead kind which can be secured 
 at any hardware store. You've got some here, 
 perhaps." 
 
 "None here. They're all up at Plattsburg. 
 We do some target shooting at times. These lit- 
 tle revolvers don't make much noise. You can 
 use them most anywhere." 
 
 "That's satisfactory," said Drew, watching 
 the glow of Delaney's cigar. "That's all right. 
 Now, when she 'phoned for the gun or you sug- 
 gested that she better have one with her, what 
 did she say about the cemetery letter or the 
 threat over the wire? Did she fear anything 
 else? Was that her sole reason for having a re- 
 volver with her?" 
 
 "You cannot expect me to answer for Miss 
 Stockbridge, Mr. Drew. She is available. You 
 can talk to her. You represent her. I shall not 
 say anything concerning her. She is sacred. 
 The revolver was not discharged. It is the same 
 as when I gave it to her in the drug-store. 
 
"THE SPOT OF BLACK" 101 
 
 Therefore, I'll trouble you for it. It's mine. I 
 admit that" 
 
 Drew rose from the chair. His left hand went 
 out. His fingers clasped Harry Nichols' shoul- 
 der with a fatherly pressure. 
 
 "I'm going now," he said. "I'll leave the 
 gun with you. If the police want it, give it to 
 them. Perhaps they will never hear of it. I 
 douht if more than one or two servants saw it 
 in Miss Loris' hand when she came into the 
 library. They may not tell Fosdick. He'll try 
 to rough-shod over them. He may arrest the 
 entire household — ^including Loris. That's his 
 way. It's effective, but it's not my way. Now 
 is there anything that you waat to say to me 
 which will clear your mind of this affair?" 
 
 Nichols glanced from Drew's clesm-eut face. 
 His eyes rested upon the telephone. "I'm go- 
 ing to call her up presently," he said. "I'll talk 
 with her. I'll tell her that you were here — ■ 
 that you left the little revolver— that yon 
 stand ready to swear it was clean and fully 
 loaded. Then, when I hear what she has to 
 say about everything, I shall call you up. Is 
 that satisfactory, Mr. Drew?" 
 
 The detective turned the revolver in his palm 
 and pressed it forward. "Take it," said he, 
 * ' and keep it under cover. I 'm off with Mr. De- 
 laney. Thanks for the club soda." 
 
1@2 WHISPEEING WIEES 
 
 "And the cigar," added the big operative as 
 he opened the door. 
 
 Drew hesitated on the landing. He tnrned 
 and went back. Nichols stood by the banisters. 
 The soft light from inside dear-oat the officer's 
 figure like a statue. 
 
 "You can do me a favor," said the detective 
 in a whisper. "A damn nice little favor." 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 "Have you an extra photo of the girl-in-the- 
 ease. One that's laying around somewhere. I 
 don't mean the one on the mantel." 
 
 ""What do you want it for?" 
 
 "For myself. I admire that young lady." 
 
 Harry Nichols disappeared through the door- 
 way. He returned within a minute with a cab- 
 inet-size photo upon the front of which was 
 written, "From Loris, January '18," in the ver- 
 tixjal chirography much practiced by social buds. 
 
 "Thanks," said Drew unbuttoning his over- 
 coat and thrusting the photo within his breast. 
 "I shall keep and cherish this, as one of my 
 most sacred possessions. Congratulations, 
 young man I" 
 
 The detective's words rang sincere. Nichols 
 flushed. He stammered an answer as Drew 
 hurried down the carpeted steps and joined De- 
 laney at the storm-door. 
 
 "Chief," said the operative as they reached 
 the sidewalk and turned toward Madison Ave- 
 
"THE SPOT OF, BLACK" laS 
 
 nue. "Chief, why didn't you pump that, lad 
 about Stockbridge. You didn't ask him a thing 
 about the old man." 
 
 "Unethical to a client," reproved Drew link- 
 ing arm with the operative. "Come on! We 
 must hurry! I've an idea — ^which is a very 
 strange thing for a New York detective to have 
 — that Harry Nichols, if he stays in town on 
 furlough, will represent Loris in all matters. I 
 don't know where she could find a better coun- 
 selor. He's a clam! He told us nothing!" 
 
 "Wise boy, Chief I Only fools and women, 
 talk to detectives." 
 
 "Umph!" said Drew at this sally. "TJmphI 
 Well, come on. It's quit snowing. It's day- 
 break over there in the east and I think the 
 clouds will dear before it gets much later. 
 You '* 
 
 "Say, Chief!" exclaimed Delaney clutching 
 the detective's shoulder and wheeling him 
 around. "Say, stand right there a minute. 
 Eight in that light. What's that on your chin? 
 Eight under the tip of your left ear. Turn; 
 around a little more ! " 
 
 Drew raised his left hand and rubbed it 
 across his face. He pinched the lobe of his ear 
 between his thumb and index finger. He whis- 
 tled with frosty amazement as he eyed his nail 
 and thumb. 
 
 "What to blazesi" he said "What's that!" 
 
104 WHISPERING WIRES 
 
 ".Turn around! Right imder this arc light. 
 Say, Chief, how did you get that spot of black 
 on your neck? You've smeared it all over your 
 collar." 
 
 "I don't know. What's it look like?" 
 
 "Sootl" 
 
 "Soot?" 
 
 "Sure, Chief. Lampblack or soot!" 
 
 Drew arched his dark brows as he rubbed his 
 finger-tips together. He held them up to the 
 stronger light. He turned and glanced back 
 through the silent walls of the street down 
 which they had walked. He took one step to- 
 word the east. 
 
 "Hold on!" said Delaney. "Where are youi 
 going?" 
 
 "Going back!" 
 
 "Why, Chief!" 
 
 ' ' SmeH that stuff ! Smell it ! " Drew thrust 
 his fingers under Delaney 'a wrinkled nose. 
 "Smell it, good and strong!" he snapped bit- 
 terly. "What is it?" 
 
 "By God, Chief, it's powder, I smell! Gun- 
 powder, it is!" 
 
 "TJmph! I must have gotten it from that 
 gat!" 
 
 "You couldn't, Chief. That gun was polished 
 up like a whistle. Besides, how would the spot 
 come to be under your left ear?" 
 
 Drew furrowed his brow. He swung in the 
 
"THE SPOT OF BLACK" 105 
 
 snow with new decision. "Come onl" he said. 
 "We'll think this over! I didn't see any soot 
 on that gat. I don't know where I got it either. 
 Coidd it have been there for some time?" 
 
 "Sure, Chief. I just happened to notice it. 
 Light's bright." Delaney nodded toward the 
 arc. 
 
 "Did you get a good look at my face in Stock- 
 bridge's!" 
 
 ' ' Can't say that I did, Chief. I was too busy 
 with that howler thing and that magpie and that 
 murder, to see anything. You might of got it 
 there without me noticing it. It wasn't there 
 in the taxicab. I'll swear to that." 
 
 Drew passed his fingers across his nostrils 
 like a man sampling perfume. He repeated the 
 motion. He scraped some of the powder from 
 his nails with a pocket knife and dropped the 
 sample into the crease of an envelope which he 
 carefully folded and crammed into his pocket. 
 
 "I'll have that analyzed," he said, as they 
 turned toward Fifth Avenue. "Another trifle 
 in a chain of circumstance. Think it over, De- 
 laney. It resembles and smells like powder 
 which has been burnt. You hurry along home. 
 Be at the office no later than nine. I'll keep on 
 down Fifth Avenue to the Flatiron Building. I 
 want to walk and clear my head. I'll get some 
 coffee, pie and rolls, at an all-night restaurant. 
 I'll take time for a diave, shine and shampoo. 
 
106 WHISPEEINQ WIRES 
 
 Perhaps I'll jump into a Turkish bath to fin- 
 ish up and get ready for work." 
 
 "You're not going to bed at all?" 
 
 "Not until I find out who murdered Stock- 
 bridge 1" 
 
 "Or how he was murdered?" said Delaney, 
 with a puzzled frown as he turned to go. 
 
 "If I get the murderer, I'll find out how he 
 did it I " snapped Drew, with a parting glance. 
 
CHAPTER EIGHT, 
 
 IT was five minutes before nine •wHen De- 
 laney reached the ornate entrajice to the 
 skyscraper wherein were the offices of 
 Drew's Agency. 
 
 He wandered into the express elevator, 
 yawned a "eighteen, out" signal to the elevator 
 pilot and stepped from the cage with the gen- 
 eral air of a man who had spent a hard night 
 without getting anywhere in particular. 
 
 Stopping in the operatives' room for a few; 
 minutes, he picked up scraps of news concern- 
 ing the case at Stockbridge's ! There was a r^ 
 port, moreover, that an extra was expected by 
 ten o'clock. The air of desertion about the 
 suite told Delaney plainer than words that 
 most of the operatives were upon the case. The 
 entire corps, with few exceptions, had been 
 working hard while he slept. The telephone- 
 girl and the assistant-manager, Harrigan, 
 wound up each of his questions by a nod or a 
 jerk of the thumb toward the inner ofiBce where 
 Drew was sitting like a spider in a web whiohl 
 was being spun about the case at hand. 
 
 107 
 
108 WHISPEEING WIRES 
 
 Delaney yawned, braced himself with a drink 
 of ice water drawn from an inverted-bottle, and 
 stepped toward Drew's door. He knocked with 
 tired knuckles. He pressed forward as he heard 
 a hearty: "Comeinl" 
 
 The operative eyed his Chief with sovereign 
 amazement. Drew looked as fresh as a daisy. 
 There was a pink tinge upon his olive cheeks. 
 These cheeks had been dose shaven. Oil glis- 
 tened from the detective's black hair. His mus- 
 tache was trimmed and level with his upper lip. 
 His eyes, as he swung and fastened a clear 
 glance upon Delaney, were almost too bright. 
 They were Hke the hectic fires of an iimer fur- 
 nace. 
 
 Delaney searched about the room. He lifted 
 one foot and then the other with a tired motion. 
 He leaned against a filing-case like a heavy dray 
 horse which had come to a final stop. He 
 yawned behind his big, red hand. 
 
 "How d'ye do it, Chief? ' ' he asked with a sec- 
 ond yawn. " I 'm dead on my feet. All the sleep 
 I got was about thirty minutes. I haven't woke 
 up yet. I met myself going to work this morn- 
 ing." 
 
 Drew laughed quickly and motioned toward a 
 leather chair. "Sit down! "he suggested. "Sit 
 right down, Delaney. Take it easy for a few 
 miautes. You seem tired." 
 
 "It beats me how you can do it!" declared 
 
"TANGLED WIRES" 109 
 
 the operative, sprawling across the chair and 
 crossing his weary legs. 
 
 "One or two hours' sleep is never any good. 
 Better keep awake. You remind me of the last 
 rose of Sharon 1" 
 
 "I feel like a house-man in an aU-i^ight poker 
 game. What's the use I I'm going over to some 
 bank and get a job as a night watchman, if this 
 keeps up. I can sleep my head off, there." 
 
 Drew swung in his chair and eyed the pa- 
 pers on his desk. He swiveled as Delaney in- 
 quired: 
 
 "What's the news in the Stoekbridge case? 
 I've been asking Marie and Haxrigan. They 
 don't seem to know anything except that every- 
 body is out — already." Delaney extended his 
 huge mouth to a cavernous yawn. He fished up 
 his great, silver watch. "What's the news, 
 Chief f Any assignments for me ? ' ' 
 
 "News? There's very little news, Delaney. 
 No good news, yet ! I've been busy as a China- 
 man on a contract, though. I can 't let that mat- 
 ter get cold. It's now or never in this case I ' * 
 
 "What does our friend Fosdick say?" 
 
 "He's all at sea! I've talked with him twice." 
 Drew glanced at the 'phone. * ' He says the mur- 
 der was a second Rue Morgue. He can't see 
 any light at all!'* 
 
 "He's come around to our deduction?" 
 
 "There's no deduction in it I" 
 
110 :VmiSEEEING WIRES 
 
 "He says it's murder?" 
 
 "Cold, curdling, cunning, crafty murder, De» 
 laney. The coroner said it would have been im- 
 possible for a man to shoot himself in the man- 
 ner Stockbridge was shot. They're right — ^both 
 of them — and we're right. I'll stake my badge 
 on it ! Particularly in view of the two threats. 
 Why, I was there when he was called up and 
 given twelve hours on this earth." 
 
 Delaney glanced out the window. "Snowing 
 again," he said. "I wonder if there are any 
 footprints in that back yard or alley. Wouldn't 
 that be a clue. Chief?" 
 
 "To what?" 
 
 "Well, you told me that the trouble-man said 
 a taU lad climbed the fence near the junction- 
 box and beat it for Fifth Avenue. Maybe that 
 lad left footprints behind." 
 
 "They're snowed over now!" 
 
 "But if he made them, couldn't we find them 
 underneath?" 
 
 Drew's eyes narrowed. He leaned in his 
 chair with a searching glance at Delaney. * ' How 
 long did you sleep?" he asked sharply. 
 
 "About thirty minutes, Chief. Mary and the 
 kids woke me up and I couldn't get settled 
 again. I did some thinking." 
 
 "You must 'avel That idea about the foot- 
 prints is a mighty good one. There was first 
 a thaw, then a freeze, then a snow fall which 
 
"TANGLED WIRES" HI 
 
 preserved everything. If we wait till spring 
 there might be a set of prints underneath the 
 other sets. Two of our operatives were there. 
 The trouble-man was there. He scraped the 
 connections. If we find a fourth set of prints, 
 that's our man 1" 
 
 "The tall lad?" 
 
 "Yes, Delaney. "We can build a box about the 
 fence and start a thaw of our own, I'll think 
 it over!" 
 
 "I'll go up and do it, Chief. I can make 
 plaster-casts of all the prints. There's a French 
 system I heard of once. I can find out from 
 Farot over at Headquarters." 
 
 "Keep it under cover for a while," decided 
 Drew, sitting down and drawing a sheath of 
 papers to the edge of the desk. "Keep it quiet," 
 he added. " I '11 think it over. ' * 
 
 Delaney rubbed his chin. He watched Drew 
 rapidly thumb over the data. "Say, Chief," he 
 yawned. "I see another light." 
 
 "What?" shot Drew over his shoulder. 
 "S — 0? Wait a moment before you give it to 
 me — ^you reminded me of something. Where 
 was the spot of powder on my face? The rub- 
 ber in the Turkish bath said it was right here." 
 The detective turned and touched his forefinger 
 below the lobe of his left ear. "Eight there," 
 lie added. 
 
 "That's where it was, Chief. Just where j(m 
 
112 WHISPEEING WIEES 
 
 got your finger. It was on the cord. Seems to 
 me that it was circulax in shape. Like a half- 
 moon." 
 
 Drew raised his black brows in reflective 
 thought. He opened a small drawer with a sud- 
 den dart of his arm. He poised a mirror so 
 that the light from the window brought out his 
 left ear and neck. He dropped the mirror to 
 the desk. "Delaney," he said, "that's exactly 
 the spot where Stockbridge was shot!" 
 
 The operative felt a cold chill dart up and 
 down his tired spine. He came to life with an 
 oath, and a slap of his huge pahn upon his 
 knee. 
 
 "Chief, you're right I" he exclaimed, leaning 
 forward. "You're right! That spot of black 
 was just where the old man was hit. Now, what 
 d'ye make of that?" 
 
 Drew driimmed his fingers on the edge of the 
 polished desk. He tapped his toes on the floor. 
 He coughed and picked up the mirror for a sec- 
 ond and longer glance at his face and neck. He 
 tossed the mirror to tbe desk and swiveled 
 slowly. 
 
 "What do I think of it?" he repeated, with 
 flashing eyes. "I think tiiere are features to 
 tiiis case I don't like!" 
 
 * * Could it have been an accident. Chief ? You 
 might of got a bit of soot from the gun and 
 then scratched your neok. Maybe that Harry 
 
"TANGLED WIEES" 113 
 
 Nichols put one over on us. The gxin might 
 have been fired, reloaded, and we never no- 
 ticed it. Looks bad for Nich\ols and the girl." 
 
 Drew closed his eyelids tightly. His brow 
 furrowed in deep thought. "No," he said 
 finally. * ' I don't think the soot or powder came 
 from the pearl-handled revolver. I don't thiuk 
 so! It would seem to me, Delaney, that intu- 
 ition is stronger than evidence. That girl and 
 that boy rang true. That valet is above sus- 
 picion. The servants are to be trusted. Stock- 
 bridge trusted them and he was noted for his 
 shrewdness in picking men. The only mistake 
 he ever made was Morphy. That individual was 
 out to do the old man. He was a biter, bit- 
 ten ! I think we '11 eliminate, for the time, Loris, 
 Harry, the servants and German influences in 
 the matter at hand. "What was your idea?" 
 Drew rubbed his neck beneath his ear, as he 
 turned to his papers. 
 
 "I've forgotten it. Chief. That spot drove it 
 all out No, wait — sayl I've been thinking— 
 this morning laying there and listening to the 
 kids getting ready for school — that the powder 
 we smelled in the library wasn't ordinary pow- 
 der. I know a firecracker, or a regular Chinese 
 smell when I get near one. That wasn't the 
 kind I got. It was like something else. It was 
 powder — aU right— but >" 
 
 Drew lifted a sheet of paper. "I covered 
 
114 WHISPEEING WIEES 
 
 that," he said. "Analysis made by Higgens, 
 this morning, shows traces of smokeless-powder 
 in Stockbridge's hair and about the bullet hole. 
 There's a difference. Now, I'm going further 
 than that. I'm going to have those scrapings I 
 got from my neck looked at. If they are the 
 same as the powder that was used to slay Stook- 
 bridge, we are getting on." 
 
 "There's lots of smokeless, Chief." 
 
 "That's the trouble — ^that's what we are right 
 up against. Let's leave the footprints and the 
 powder for a few minutes. Both are important. 
 They'll wait. See here!" 
 
 Drew raised a sheath of papers from his desk, 
 turned with the chair, and started thumbing 
 over the data he had accumulated. 
 
 "See here," he repeated absently. "First 
 branch of the tree of Truth in this case is a 
 stubborn one. It requires considerable work on 
 our part to get to the end of it. I've sent out 
 six operatives to scout the telephone calls and 
 get me some light on them. I've kept some 
 notes on what they have 'phoned in to me. The 
 telephone company, the wire-chief at Grameroy 
 Hill, and an official I know, have been enlisted 
 in getting to the bottom of these calls. They 
 have made progress. But, Delaney, of all the 
 devilish inventions of man, a telephone is the 
 most subtle. It's a wonder to me we have 
 found anything. It's the crook's one best tool. 
 
" TANGLED WIRES" 115 
 
 Witli it he can play safe, and we can't catch 
 him!" 
 
 * * What have you found, Chief? ' ' 
 
 Drew held up a paper. "The first call, De- 
 laney," he said, "was the one to tiie cemetery 
 company's superintendent, notifying him to ex- 
 cavate a grave in the Stockbridges' family plot. 
 Subtle suggestion, that, ia the light of what 
 followed." 
 
 "It was," said Delaney. 
 
 "This can has received all of the attention it 
 deserved. It's the first of the series, and was 
 perhaps made before the crook had time to cover 
 himself completely. It has been traced to a slot 
 booth in the Pennsylvania Bailroad Station in 
 the Woman's Waiting Eoom." 
 
 "Woman's!" 
 
 "Yes, Delaney. That is no criterion that a, 
 woman did the caUing-up. The girl there in 
 charge of the pay-booths states that more men 
 than women use the 'phones in that part of the 
 station." 
 
 "Just our luck!" 
 
 "The toll collected on this call must have been 
 thirty-five cents, including the war-tax. The 
 superintendent says that the voice over the wire 
 was thin and tired. He says he thought it was 
 Dr. Conroy. He never gave the matter sec- 
 ond consideration. Conroy, however, has a 
 voice like a buU. We checked that up." 
 
116 WHISPEEINa WIEES 
 
 "Does the superintendent know Conroyf* 
 
 " No ! Except by name 1 ' * 
 
 "Then, Chief, I don't see any use trying that 
 lead. It begins and ends in air." 
 
 "It most certainly does I We'll cross it out. 
 The next call for our investigation " 
 
 "Which was?" asked Delaney, waking up. 
 
 "Which was the one notifying Stookbridge 
 that he had about reached his span of life on 
 this earth. I was there in that library when 
 the call came in. Agaia, from the millionaire's 
 description, this time, we have the thin, whisper- 
 ing voice on the wire. The man was probably 
 the same. He mentioned the cemetery letter 
 which would establish that fact." 
 
 "I'm following you, Chief. Go on ! " 
 
 Drew picked out a second sheet of paper from 
 his pile. "We went after this call at the time, 
 or soon after the time it was sent in," he said, 
 tapping the sheet vith his fingers. "I called 
 the ofl&ce here and had Harrigan get in touch 
 with George Westlake, third vice-president of 
 the telephone company. Westlake got busy." 
 
 Delaney eyed his unpolished shoes with a 
 sage wink. 
 
 "Westlake turned things over," continued 
 the detective. "He made a most thorough in- 
 vestigation. We have his word that there is no 
 record of this call! The wire-chief at Gram- 
 ercy Hill Exchange declares that it never vreat 
 
"TANGLED "WIEES" 117 
 
 through the switchboard. That the conneotion 
 had been mad© on the outside." 
 
 "From the air?" 
 
 "Looks that way. They tried everything and 
 questioned everybody. No on© talked with 
 Stockbridge through the switchboard at Gram- 
 ercy Hill, at or near that hour. Therefore, we 
 must conclude, that, insomuch as I know some- 
 body did talk with bi-m at that hour, the connec- 
 tion was made, either in the junction-box in the 
 alley or behind the switchboard at Grameroy 
 Hill Exchange." 
 
 "How about imderground. Chief?" 
 
 "Impossible! That is — almost impossible. 
 The cables are in conduit and sheathed with 
 lead. It would be a poor place to tap in on a 
 line. I'm going to presume that the man who 
 tapped in knew his business. The junction-box 
 in the alley is under suspicion. I think it was 
 done there, iu this manner." Drew paused and 
 picked up a third sheet of hurriedly-written 
 notes. 
 
 "A junction-box," he said, "is merely a small 
 switchboard where the conduit ends and the 
 house connections begin. It would have been 
 easy for an expert to disconnect the two leads 
 which led into Stockbridge 's library, ring up 
 with a low tension magneto, and then cut in 
 with a testing set and a battery current and 
 dio the talking That is what the trouble-zoas. 
 
118 WHISPEEING WIRES 
 
 told us might have been done. He found no 
 signs of tampering. He saw a tall man esoap- 
 ing down the alley. It would seem, Delaney, 
 that this tall man is the one we're after. Per- 
 haps, as you said, he left footprints. But foot- 
 prints, like finger-prints, are not much use un- 
 til you get the man who made them." 
 
 "What d'ye deduct in this second caU — 
 Chief?" 
 
 "That we've run squarely up against a blind 
 wall. We'U drop it for a time and go to the 
 third call." 
 
 "When was that?" 
 
 "Stockbridge was murdered at four minutes 
 and eighteen seconds past twelve, by his own 
 watch, Delaney. It was a very good watch! 
 Now allowing for a movement of the hands 
 on account of the fall, how are we to account 
 for a telephone call sent iato Gramercy HiU 
 9763 — the library 'phone — at exactly five min- 
 utes past twelve from a slot-telephone booth at 
 the east end of the Grand Central Railroad Sta- 
 tion on Forty-second Street?" 
 
 "How did you get that, Chief?" 
 
 Drew chuckled and wheeled in his chair. "I 
 got it," he said, "by simple arithmetic plus the 
 vice-president's puU. Here's how it was found, 
 Delaney. Easy as two and two. You remem- 
 ber the howler?" 
 
"TANGLED WIEES" 119 
 
 "I'll never forget it, Chief! Not as long as 
 lUvel" 
 
 ' ' The howler established considerable ia this 
 case. The chief operator remembers putting it 
 on. She remembers the time. She looked back, 
 after being Jogged by George Westlake, and 
 found that some one had ealled up Stockbridge 
 a few minutes after twelve. It was probably 
 this call to the old man that caused Tn'm to be 
 near enough to the telephone to knock it over 
 when he was shot. The operator did not hear 
 the shot, but she remembers a thin, piping voice 
 asking for Gramercy Hill 9763." 
 
 "The same guy, every time!" declared the 
 operative, mopping his brow with his sleeve, 
 "I'd like to have that fellow for five minutes. 
 Chief!" 
 
 "We'll get him! We've got the time estab- 
 lished twice, Stockbridge 's watch fixes the mur- 
 der at twelve-f our-eighteen. The telephone call 
 at five minutes past twelve, and the howler put 
 on soon afterward, checks up. The old man 
 was alive during the telephone call from the 
 Grand Central, and dead when the howler was 
 put on for the first time. Do you see that?" 
 
 Delaney frowned. "I see it and I don't," he 
 said. "I'm aU balled up. Chief. What with 
 the magpie and the howler and a man shot in 
 a locked room and the spot of soot on your neck 
 
120 WHISPEEING WIRES 
 
 —I'm all twisted into a knot I tliink I'll go 
 out and get a drink!" 
 
 "No, Delaney, don't," said Drew. "You'll 
 need your head in tMs case. "We're squarely up 
 against class of the highest order. Since Shee- | 
 ney Mike and the gaa-tube over the transom in 
 Chinatown, I don't know of a more baffling set ■ 
 of clews. AU these calls — ^which seem so im- 
 portant in the case — ^lead to a whispering voice I 
 of low pitch and timber. Perhaps the police',^ 
 records will show such a man who is at large— si;, 
 very much at large." 
 
 Delaney furrowed his brows and screwed hia 
 face into a painful knot. "I'm trying to go 
 back. Chief, to the Morphy case and them 
 crooked witnesses he had. They all had loud 
 voices — like wolves!" 
 
 * * Yes — ^I remember them. But then, Delaney, 
 a man can change his voice. That whole pack 
 will bear watching." 
 
 "You've eliminated some things that were 
 worrying, Chief. But there's some I don't seie 
 yqt. It's impossible for a man to get shot like 
 that old millionaire "was. We went over that 
 room and that house. We frisked good and 
 pI6nty. There was nothing suspicious. The 
 ■walls were thick. The floor was hard-wood. ' 
 The ceiling was some kind of patent plaster, 
 that's like stone. I got two looks at the door, 
 and you tried the windows. Now what's the 
 
OLIVE TELL, AND BEN JOHiNbON IX " WHIiPEKING WIRES 
 49th STREET THEATRE 
 
 AT THE 
 
"TANGLED WTBES" 121 
 
 answer, chief? I'll say you are never going to 
 clear this case up. I don't think you can. It's 
 going to be one of them unsolved mysteries. 
 If you do figure something out it ain't going 
 to be proved to my satisfaction. The thing 
 couldn't be done the way it was donel" 
 
 "That's definite," smiled Drew, tapping the 
 desk with the tips of his well-polished finger 
 nails. "You're talking in a circle. I'U solve 
 the case, or I won't sleep 1" 
 
 "It's impossible!" 
 
 Drew sorted his papers and bent over them. 
 He turned the swivel chair by a pressure of hia 
 knee. His eyes narrowed as he studied De- 
 laney 's lugubrious face which was sadly in need 
 of a shave. 
 
 "Impossible," he repeated softly. "There's 
 no such word, Delaney. "It's a fool's excuse. 
 Now I don't want you to be a fool. Don't make 
 the mistake of allowing a seeming impossibil- 
 ity to dull your efforts. There's always a 
 way around everythiag which looks high and 
 impassable. They used to go round the Horn. 
 Now they cut through the Isthmus. They 
 used to think men were supernatural. Now 
 they know that nothing works without a law. 
 I admit that I don't know how Stoekbridge came 
 to his end. I don't want to dwell upon it, 
 either. But this we do know, by these papers, 
 that he was well-hated, threatened and marked 
 
122 WHISPEEING WIEES 
 
 for death, by an individual or clique of individ- 
 uals. That is all we know, and all we ever need 
 to know, in order to proceed on the basis that 
 a material agency struck out his life with a ma- 
 terial substance — such as lead propelled by 
 smokeless powder." 
 
 "Whew!" exclaimed Delaney, rising. 
 
 "As for tlie library wherein he was slain," 
 continued Drew. "As for it, we must revert to 
 simple geometry. Matter occupies space. A 
 material act was committed by a material body 
 which got past all our precautions and struck 
 the magnate down. What is there in this world, 
 which is at one and the same time, material and 
 yet capable of penetrating through a door or 
 wall without a trace? Give me that answer, 
 and we'll get results. What is it?" 
 
 * ' Damned if I know 1 I 'm all balled up ! You 
 talk like a college professor. You mean some- 
 thing that is aud something that isn't. Good 
 morning I" 
 
 Delaney reached for the door knob with a 
 gesture of disdain. Drew wheeled and stared 
 at him. "Wait a minute," he said softly. 
 
 The operative turned and dropped his hands 
 to his side. 
 
 "You remember the magpie?" asked Drew. 
 
 DelEiney nodded. 
 
 "Well, sit down and wait. It'll be here witliin 
 five minutes. The valet 'phoned he was bring- 
 
"TANGLED WIEES" 123 
 
 ing it in a taxi. That was just before you came 
 in." 
 
 "Taxi!" snorted tlie big operative, stretch- 
 ing himself on the leather chair. * ' Them valets 
 have got if soft. Last night was the first ride 
 I've had in one for months, and " 
 
 Delaney's voice trailed to an end. He turned 
 in the chair and saw Harrigan's red face and 
 auburn hair come slowly through the aperture 
 made by opening the door. 
 
 * ' Well ? ' ' snapped Drew. 
 
 "There's a funny lookin' guy out here, 
 chief, ' ' said the as sistant-manager. * * He wants 
 to see you in person. He's got knee-britches 
 and a bunch of brass-buttons on his monkey- 
 jacket. Says he's a valet." 
 
 "Has he got anything with him?" asked 
 Drew. 
 
 ' ' He has, Chief ! He 's got a gilded cage with 
 the damnedest looking bird in it I ever saw. It 
 ain't a parrot and it ain't a crow. It's a blue- 
 jay or something like that!" 
 
 ' ' Show him in I " Drew said. * * Show him in. 
 You can wait, Delaneyl" 
 
CHAPTEE NINE 
 
 "men" akd motives" 
 
 TIE two detectives leaned back in their re- 
 spective chairs and eyed each other. Both 
 swung and stared out of the window at 
 the swirling snow which salted across the win- 
 dow in an unending curtain of white. Both 
 returned to the locked stare so common to men 
 who have worked together in danger and know 
 each other's merits. 
 
 Delaney's eyes dropped first. He studied the 
 rug beneath Drew's polished shoes. He coughed 
 behind his hand, and turned with a shrug of 
 his shoulders. He fastened upon the closed 
 door a glance of expectancy which brought a 
 smile to the chief's lips. 
 
 "Things are picking up," said Drew, with 
 a short laugh. "Your friend — ^the bird — ^has 
 arrived. ' ' 
 
 "My friend?" blurted the big operative. 
 "It's no friend of mine! I'd wring its neck, 
 gladly." 
 
 "It may be the key to the whole thing. 
 Smarter men than the ones we are fighting have 
 
 124 
 
"MEN AND MOTIVES" 125 
 
 fallen ttrotigh less. Ton remember Eddy, The 
 Brute, wlio left his nmbrella after him in the 
 Homesdale Murder Mystery. Funny, wasn't 
 it? Took three months, to plan the murder and 
 left his rain-stick behind. His initials were on 
 it." 
 
 "They can't get away — '. — '* started Delaney. 
 
 "Here's your birdl" announced Drew, as a 
 knock sounded on the door. "Move over and 
 let that valet stand there. I want the light in 
 his eyes when we're talkiag to him. Always get 
 the light in the other fellow's eye. Sisst!" 
 
 The door opened to a crack — ^then wide. The 
 valet came in with an important strut. He 
 turned and deposited a cage at Delaney's big 
 feet. The operative moved back with a grunt 
 of disgust. He eyed the cage and contents with 
 a homicidal expression. His eyes raised and 
 fastened upon the valet. He hooked his broad 
 thumbs in the axm-holes of his vest and took a 
 deep breath. 
 
 "I hope you're satisfied," he said to Drew, 
 who was smiling. "I hope this black sparrow 
 don't start anything. I'll finish it, sure." 
 
 "What's your name?" asked the chief, turn- 
 ing and consulting a paper. 
 
 "Otto Braun, "said the valet. * ' Otto Braun, 
 sir." 
 
 "Bom in Cologne . . . year, sixty-three . . . 
 .worked as valet and major domo for Britisli 
 
126 :^HISPERING WIEES 
 
 families . . . came to America with. Mr. Stodc- 
 bridge, and have been with him since?" 
 
 "That's correct, sir," the valet said, with a 
 start of amazement. 
 
 "Are you mamedl" 
 
 "Twice — sir." 
 
 "Wife living?" 
 
 "Both, sir. I'm paying a small alimony to 
 both." 
 
 Delaney granted. His foot went out toward 
 the magpie which had finished hopping about 
 the perches of the cage, and was listeniug with 
 head cocked sideways. 
 
 "You — ^you have charge of this bird?" asked 
 Drew, turning fully around and facing the valet 
 with heavy-Hdded intentness. 
 
 "I'm its keeper, sir!" 
 
 Delaney Coughed explosively. He leaned 
 down to cover his confusion. He jabbed a 
 thumb at the bird. 
 
 "It's savage," he rumbled. "It pecked at 
 me!" 
 
 "Easy," warned Drew, with a quick frown. 
 "Easy, Delaney. I want to get to the facts of 
 this case. We're wasting time." 
 
 "Go ahead, Chief." 
 
 "I've had you come down here," said Drew, 
 tumirlg to the valet, "in order to find out about 
 th.at magpie. You had charge of it when Mr. 
 Stockbridge was alive I" 
 
"MEN AND MOTIVES" 127 
 
 "Yes, sir. I fed it and kept it clean, for the 
 ■ — ^master." The valet sniffled slightly. Drew 
 ■watched him with keen eyes. 
 
 "Did it repeat much of Mr. Stoekbridge's 
 conversation?" he asked. 
 
 "Repeat, sir?" 
 
 "What I'm trying' to get at is, whether or 
 not the bird was in the habit of repeating words 
 that seemed to strike its fancy. Did it act like 
 a parrot?" 
 
 " It 's very much like a parrot, sir. Sometimes 
 it was sulky and wouldn't say anything for 
 days. Other times, sir, we had trouble keeping 
 it quiet." 
 
 Drew turned in his chair and fingered a pa- 
 per. "I looked up everything I can find in my 
 library here, in regard to magpies," he said. 
 "Is there any difference between an ordinary 
 magpie and a Spanish one?" he added, turn- 
 ing. 
 
 "I don't think so, sir. They can all be taught 
 to talk — ^the same as a parrot, sir." 
 
 "Then if this bird should repeat a word, or 
 two words, over and over again it would be 
 plausible to assume that some one had used the 
 word or two words. I want to make myself 
 dear," Drew added with engaging candor. 
 "What I'm getting at is important in view of 
 the fact that this magpie used two words after 
 
128 wmSPEEING WIRES 
 
 we broke down the door to the library and 
 found Mr. Stockbridge murdered." 
 
 Delaney leaned forward. 
 
 *'The words this bird used were *Ah Sing,' 
 as near as we can arrive at them. Did you ever 
 hear it repeat tiiat couplet!" 
 
 "I can't say that I have, sir." 
 
 The detective lifted his brows and stared at 
 the cage. "Eepeat that," he said to Delaney. 
 "Repeat what we heard in the library." 
 
 "Ah, Singl Ah, Singl Ah, Singl" boomed 
 the operative. 
 
 The magpie ruffled its feathers and darted 
 about the cage like a sparrow in a barrel. 
 "Keep it up," said Drew. 
 
 "Ah, Sin! Ah, Siug! Ah, Singing I" roared 
 Delaney. 
 
 "That'll do! You've frightened it. Let it 
 alone for a while. We'll keep it here, Otto. 
 I'll send it back in a few days. How's Miss 
 Stockbridge bearing the strain, up at the 
 house?" 
 
 "She hasn't left her room, sir. Mr. Nichols 
 called. The Red Cross people called. There's 
 been lots of callers, sir, but she hasn't appeared, 
 sir. It's early, though." 
 
 Drew glanced at his watch. ' ' That 's all, ' ' he 
 said. ' ' You may go. ' ' 
 
 The door closed softly as the valet bowed, 
 
"MEN AND MOTIVES" 129 
 
 replaced his hat and passed out without glano^ 
 Lng back. 
 
 **A good servant," said Drew, rising emd 
 kneeling down beside the cage. "Now, De- 
 laney," he added tersely. "Now, old sleepy 
 head, we have the key to the case locked here. 
 I don't doubt but that you unconsciously struck 
 the right clew when you bawled your little 
 hymn. You said, *Ah, Singing.* Now couldn't 
 that be Ossining?" 
 
 "ByGod, Chief, it could!" 
 
 "Or, more likely. Ah! Sing Sing!" 
 
 "Who said that?" 
 
 "The bird!" 
 
 "But who taught the bird?" 
 
 "Nobody taught it! It might have been the 
 last thing said by Stoekbridge — ^just before he 
 was shot." 
 
 "And the bird repeated it — ^to us I" 
 
 ' ' Certainly ! A parrot or a magpie is a living 
 phonograph. They reproduce a sound, at times, 
 without any idea of knowing what they are say- 
 ing. This bird may have been so frightened by 
 the shot which was fired in the library, that it 
 recalled the words used by Stoekbridge before 
 the shot was fired. These words, in my opinion, 
 tell us that the millionaire was 'phoning to some 
 individual, probably the whispering-voiced 
 man. This individual and Ah, Sing! or Ah, 
 Sing Sing! or Ah, Singing! or Ossining! are 
 
130 WHISPERING WTEES 
 
 closely allied. Now who of Stockbridge's en- 
 emies does that fit?" 
 
 Drew rose to his feet and dusted his knees. 
 "Is that clear?" he asked. 
 
 "Clear as mud, Chief I I don't get it yetl" 
 
 "You will," said the detective, dropping 
 down in his chair and reaching for his papers. 
 "See these," he added, swiveling and darting 
 a quick glance at the bird-cage. "These, De- 
 laney, are a list of the old man's known en- 
 emies. I have compiled this list from the sec- 
 retary's statements, my own newspaper read- 
 ing, the facts we gained at Morphy's trial, and 
 from what Stockbridge told me in the library 
 before he was slain." Drew counted the list 
 with a steady finger. ' ' There 's seven, ' ' he said. 
 
 "Is that all! I thought there was more 'an 
 that!" 
 
 "No! Seven is the number! He was wdl 
 hated as you wiU see. First and foremost we 
 have Mortimer Morphy, who is serving from 
 ten to twenty years in state prison, with other 
 indictments hanging over his iron-gray head. 
 He's the captain of them all. He lacks soul, 
 conscience and heart. ' The Wolf of the Ticker' 
 they used to call him. I had the warden on the 
 wire this morning. He's ready to aid justice 
 to the limit. He says that Morphy, or rather 
 Convict 87313, I think they call them inmates 
 
"MEN AND MOTIVES" 131 
 
 up there, is well and working. He's in charge 
 of the books in the front oflSce." 
 
 "He'd never keep any books for me!" de- 
 clared Delaney. 
 
 Drew nodded. "Me, either," he said. "I 
 have heard too much about his past to trust 
 his future. Stockbridge always feared him." 
 
 "Does he fit what the black crow said!" 
 
 "He does, most certainly I Sing Sing and 
 Morphy are linked together in every way. Mor- 
 phy must have been mentioned on the wire and 
 Stockbridge shouted, 'What, in Sing Siag?' or 
 words to the same meaning." 
 
 "Go on," said Delaney, glancing at the mag- 
 pie with round eyes. 
 
 "Then comes Vogel, who was at state's 
 prison, but whom they transferred to the hos- 
 pital at Glendale, where he is said to be dying 
 of tuberculosis." 
 
 "I remember him. A little runt with a big 
 vnose. That might be the whispering voice, 
 'Chief, if he's got T. B." 
 
 ' ' Hardly ! I also had Glendale on the 'phone, 
 or Harrigan did. They say Vogel is right there 
 and is going to stay there, if fifty guards will 
 keep him." 
 
 "Next, Chief?" 
 
 "The next is Vogel's partner. Boss. You 
 remember him! A good-natured, fat fellow 
 with a bald head. He was always smiling. He's 
 
ia2 wBisPEBiNa wib: 
 
 making little rooks ont of big ones in a convict 
 camp near Lake George. He was at Sing Sing, 
 or Ossining, for a time. Most of the New York 
 prisoners are taken there first. It's a sort of 
 clearing house for the other prisons of the 
 state." 
 
 "Would he fit in with what this bird said, 
 Chief?" 
 
 "He might!" 
 
 "Go on, I'm getting interested," 
 
 "Then," said Drew, "we have the two bro- 
 kers who handled Morphy's Blue Sky, pre- 
 ferred ; Flying Boat, and other swindles. They 
 are at Sing Sing." 
 
 "What's their names, Chief! I've forgot- 
 ten." 
 
 "Greene and Goldberg! One confessed and 
 one turned state's evidence. They got off with 
 from two to four years. A nice bunxsh of 
 squealers 1" 
 
 "They'U be out pretty soon, Chief!" 
 
 "Yes — ^but they're harmless. I don't think 
 they had anything to do with the murder of 
 Stockbridge. The other fellow might." 
 
 "Who's that. Chief?" 
 
 "Finklesteta — ^the banker. The one who 
 went before the Grand Jury and claimed ex- 
 emption. He's somewhere on the outside. I 
 think Flynn is covering him. I s«at him over 
 
"MEN AND MOTIVES" 133 
 
 to Jersey, where Fmklestein has a place near 
 Morristown. We'll hear of him later." 
 
 Delaney shifted his big feet and started 
 connting on his fingers. He widened his eyes. 
 "There's on© more," he said, as Drew leaned 
 back. 
 
 "Yes, there's one more. I kept him for the 
 last. He's out of sight, reach and hearing. 
 You know who I mean?" 
 
 "That guy who invented wireless boat, or fly- 
 ing boat, or them movie-picture things in seven- 
 teen colors. I know who you mean. He beat 
 it, slick as any porch-climber. What's his 
 name, Chief?" 
 
 * ' Morphy 's brother, Cuthbert Morphy 1 He's 
 an electrical-engineer and the inventor of all 
 their shady promotions. He's the real brains 
 x>f the mob. You never saw him?" 
 
 "No— did you?" 
 
 "Can't say that I have I" declared Drew with 
 a snap. "I call him one of my failures. I've 
 made enough. Remember how Flood and Cas- 
 sady searched for him after the others were 
 arrested? He's cost us thousands of dollars 
 — without result. I charged it to Stockbridge." 
 
 "Which way did he go. Chief?" 
 
 "He beat it for Argentine. From there he 
 went across South America to Antofagasta. 
 From there he disappeared like a rocket in No 
 Man's Land. No trace was found. For all we 
 
134 WHISPEEING WIEES 
 
 know, he might be right here ia little old New 
 York — the best hiding place in the known world. 
 I hate to think of the places a man could plant 
 in this town!" 
 
 "Sure I But they always come around the 
 old corner. Remember Dutch Gus, the box- 
 man. Five years, Chief, in every town on the 
 map, and then he was picked up at Forty-second 
 Street and Broadway. Maybe your friend, Out- 
 bert, will show up some day?" 
 
 "Cuthbert!" corrected Drew. *'He's no 
 friend of mine, Delaney. The trouble is, we 
 haven't got a single photograph of him. That 
 shows he was figuring on crime all his Hfe, 
 A man who don't get his picture taken, is gea- 
 erally a man to watch. ' ' 
 
 "He's slick, Chief. What does he look like!" 
 
 Drew pressed a buzzer-button. "Look like 1 ' ' 
 he said, turning toward the door, "Oh, he is a 
 little fellow, quick-tempered and probably 
 handy with a gat. He's dangerous. I think 
 Cuthbert Morphy is a good lead if we can find 
 him." 
 
 "I never did like that first name!" Delaney 
 blurted as Harrigan opened the door to a crack. 
 
 "What have you found out about Harry 
 Nichols?" asked Drew, as the assistant-man- 
 ager stepped in softly. 
 
 "Got Plattsburg, Chief," said Harrigan 
 briefly. "Harry is 0. K. up there. Captain's 
 
"MEN AND MOTIVES" 135 
 
 commission. Three montlis intensive training. 
 Going to France soon. On fourteen-days' fur- 
 lough in New York. "Was floor manager for 
 Harris, Post and Browning. Quit good job to 
 go in the Army. Harris, of the brokerage firm, 
 says Harry can come back and hang up his hat 
 any time. That's about all!" 
 
 * ' Umph ! ' ' said Drew. * * That 's fine, in a way. 
 He couldn't have a better record. Now we'll 
 lay him aside. What did Frick learn at Ossin- 
 ing?" 
 
 "Frick 'phoned once. I was going to connect 
 you with him but that fellow with the bird-cage 
 came in. Frick says the warden is 0. K. and 
 will lend every aid. He saw Morphy in the Au- 
 ditor's Department. Looks worried, he says. 
 Getting old! The visitor's list shows that he's 
 had an average of three visits a month. No 
 sign of his brother. There's a fellow calls, 
 though, who might be Cuthbert Morphy. An- 
 swers general description. They'll pinch him 
 next time he comes. "We never thought of look- 
 ing for him there!" 
 
 "No! We were going to send him there! 
 It's like a crook, though, to play with fire. What 
 else did Frick say!" 
 
 "Nothing more. Chief. He's looking around. 
 He says he'll report as soon as there is any- 
 thing. He says " 
 
 "Buurr! Burrr! Burrrr!" 
 
136 WHISPERING WIRES 
 
 Drew turned and snatched tip the telephone 
 receiver. He pressed the diaphragm to his ear. 
 "All right," he said tersely. "Connect me. 
 Yes!" 
 
 Delaney breathed deeply and watched his 
 chief's face. 
 
 " Hello 1 Hello!" whispered Drew. "Yes," 
 he added guardedly. "Yes, Commissioner. . . . 
 What? You say tiiat . . . that the autopsy on 
 Stockbridge's body — ^head — shows what? Re- 
 peat itl I can't quite hear what you are say- 
 ing. Louder, Commissioner! That's better. 
 Yes — aU right now, Fosdick. It shows. ... It 
 shows that the cupronickle'buUet found in — ^in, 
 . . . repeat that. ... In Stockbridge's brain 
 was not scored or ... or what? . . . Marked? 
 . . . Wait! I don't get your meaning. ... It 
 was lodged in the soft tissues of the. . . . Yes ! 
 ... I see ! Go on. . . . There were no rifling 
 marks on it. . . . What?" 
 
 Drew turned and motioned toward the open 
 door. Harrigan closed it softly as the detective 
 resumed his position at the 'phone. "Yes," he 
 said tersely. "Yes, Fosdick. That's important. 
 I should say it was important! . . . New 
 wrinkle, what? . . . Why, I'd think at a quick 
 jump that the bullet which killed the old man 
 wasn't fired from a regulation revolver. . . . 
 Yes, it couldn't of ! ... It must have been fired 
 from a smooth-bore rifle or pistol! . . . What? 
 
"MEN AND MOTIVES" 137 
 
 . . . Yes. ... It seems that -way to mo. ♦ . . 
 Are you dead sure?" 
 
 Drew waited. He tapped the desk with a 
 pencU. He reached with his right hand and 
 pulled a sheet of paper to him. "Go on," he 
 said slowly. "Yes, go on, Commissioner. Oh, 
 I've been busy! Yes. You have! Well. ... I 
 wouldn't of. No, I don't think that's the right 
 lead at all. They're all right. All right . . . 
 Gotoit! . . . Good-by, Fosdick." 
 
 The detective flipped the receiver on the hook 
 and slowly swung the chair. His eyes darted 
 first at Harrigan and then rested upon De- 
 laney's broad face. 
 
 "That damn fool!" he exclaimed. "He's 
 pinched the whole bunch of servants. He's 
 looking for the valet. The butler is under look 
 and key. All that's left up there is the house- 
 keeper and some housemaids and Miss Loris. 
 He better not touch her! Brass Band Fosdick! 
 He's a mile off the case!" 
 
 "What about that bullet, Chief?" asked De- 
 laney. 
 
 " Oh ! That 's new ! It 's different and impor- 
 tant. The coroner's inquest shows — ^the au- 
 topsy, I mean — that the bullet found in the mil- 
 lionaire's brain was a cupronickle affair of 
 twenty-two caliber projected by smokeless pow- 
 der from a smooth-bore weapon held not more 
 than three inches from the old man's head." 
 
138 WHISPEKI]!^"GF WIRES 
 
 "Whew!" whistled Delaney. "That's going 
 some, Chief," he added, rising, "But what 
 does it mean? I ain't got that at-tall!" 
 
 "Nor I!" snapped Drew. "We're only get- 
 ting deeper and deeper into facts. After a while 
 we'll have enough of them to solve the case. 
 The smooth bullet is important. It suggests 
 many things — a home-made gun, for instance." 
 
 "Might have heen an old Civil War gun, 
 Chief." 
 
 "I don't believe there was anything like that 
 in Stockbridge's house. You might inquire 
 when you go up. He was very modern with his 
 Flying Boat stock and his improved munitions 
 for the Allies. He has no old collection of 
 arms." 
 
 Delauey stared at Harrigan. Drew swung to 
 his desk and tapped the blotter for a moment. 
 "We'll get busy," he said briskly, as he swung 
 back again and faced the two operatives. " I 've 
 almost got my man. That bird there," Drew 
 pointed toward the magpie, "is our one best bet 
 and lead. I may be wrong, but I'll wager a 
 good cigar there's a convict or ex-convict at 
 the back of this case. How else can we explaiu 
 'Ossining' or 'Ah, Sing' repeated through the 
 magpie to us. It's not an impossible clue. It 
 might happen. Let's move with both feet!" 
 
 Delaney rose lankily and stood by the door. 
 He braced his shoulders^ then shelved them for- 
 
"MEN AND MOTIVES" 139 
 
 ward as he reached a finger toward the bird- 
 cage. ' ' Pretty Poll ! " he said. 
 
 The magpie darted about the cage like a shaft 
 of blue light. It came to rest with its tail 
 feathers thrust through the bars. It peered 
 with beaded eyes at Drew who had snatched up 
 a bundle of papers and was sorting them. 
 
 "Get busy, Delauey, on this assignment!" he 
 said sharply. "Waste no time. Eun up to 
 Stoekbridge's and get me plaster-paris casts 
 of all the foot-prints you can find around that 
 junction box. It's stopped snowiag," he added, 
 glancing out the window. 
 
 ''All right, Chief." 
 
 "Wait a minute. Stop somewhere on your 
 way up-town and find out the exact temperature 
 changes last night. What I want you to get is 
 a record of every quarter-hour, so as to show 
 when tho early, packed snow in Stoekbridge's 
 fax6 froze solid. The under crust!" , 
 
 "I got that in my head, Chief I That'si my 
 idea, exactly. If a tall lad tapped in on the 
 junction box early in the night his footprints 
 will be frozen close to the ground. The whole 
 surface is level now, but there ought to be ice- 
 posts sticking up when I get done thawing." 
 
 ' ' That 's right I You '11 probably find the trou- 
 ble-hunter 's and one other set of prints. The 
 other set is our man's I" 
 
140 ."WHISPEEING WIEES 
 
 ""Wliat siao feet <did the trpuble-himter 
 have?" 
 
 "Small— about six!" 
 
 "All right, Chief, I'm off." 
 
 "Wait a miaute." Drew studied a sheet of 
 paper. "After you get the temperature data, 
 Delaaey," he said. "After you get that and 
 the plaster oasts of the foot-priats, go into the 
 house and stay there. "Watch Miss Loris. Don't 
 talk to Fosdick's men. Tell her to be careful. 
 TeU her that she is in grave danger. Eemem- 
 ber that the same man who threatened Stock- 
 bridge over the wire, also said he was going to 
 get her. Eemember that, Delaney!" 
 
 "Good-by!" 
 
 "Get a shave!" shot Drew out through the 
 closing doorway. 
 
 "I'll do that little thiag," came echoing back 
 with a hearty chuckle. 
 
 "Now, Harrigan," Drew said, shuffling the 
 slips of paper like a deck of cards. "Now, we're 
 closing in on our man or men. See if you can 
 find Frick at the prison. 'Phone from the 
 booth!" 
 
 Harrigan. was back within three minutes. He 
 leaned over Drew. 
 
 "Frick was with the warden," he whispered 
 tersely. "He was easy to get. He says that 
 Morphy has been trying to telephone——' * 
 
 ""What?" 
 
'MEN AND MOTIVES" 141 
 
 "Tryin' to telephone, CHef- 
 
 "What has he got to do with the telephone? 
 What right has an inmate of a prison got to 
 phone? Unless— unless the warden thought 
 the case was justified — ^hke in sickness or im- 
 portant business." 
 
 "Maybe the warden allowed him, Chief. I 
 didn't ask Frick!" 
 
 ' * Get out there and ask him ! Quick ! ' ' 
 
 Drew waited with every muscle taut. He 
 drummed the table with impatient fingers. He 
 thumbed the sheath of papers he had collected 
 on the Stockbridge case. He wheeled in his 
 chair and stared out through the frosted win- 
 dow with unseeing eyes. The vision came to 
 him of a pompous old man in prison gray, strut- 
 ting about the front oflBce with silk socks and a 
 Havana cigar. Drew had no sympathy with a 
 certain kind of convict. The misguided safe- 
 blower or house prowler might be excused for 
 a great many things. The pickpocket was a pro- 
 fessional, who took his chances as they ran. 
 The gentleman bank-wrecker, with his over- 
 extended tale of woe and his bid for the world's 
 sympathies, was the one the detective detested 
 with all his soul. Such men, he believed, were 
 beyond the pale. They knew better. Morphy, 
 for instance, had not only gotten away with 
 roadi of widow's and orphan's money, but he 
 
142 WHISPEEING WIRES 
 
 had wrecked a score of homes and dragged 
 down many with him at the final assizes, 
 
 "So he uses the phone!" Drew repeated like 
 an indictment. "WeU! Well! Well!" 
 
 Harrigan stepped in through the door. Drew 
 turned away from the window and stared at 
 the assistant-manager. "What did you find?" 
 he snapped. 
 
 "I foimd enough, Chief! Frick says that Mor- 
 phy is the whole thing up there. They call him 
 the 'Assistant- Warden,' in jest. The Welfare 
 League won't have anything to do with Tijtyi. 
 They got him down for a squealing ' rat. ' ' ' 
 
 "You can't fool the Gray Brotherhood," said 
 Drew. "Their rooms are too close together. 
 What about this telephoning ? Who was it to ? " 
 
 "A telephone booth in the Subway Station at 
 Times Square!" 
 
 "Good God!" 
 
 "Frick says it was! He tried to listen but 
 Morphy came out and looked around twice." 
 
 The detective rose from his chair and grasped 
 Harrigan 's narrow shoulders, with fingers of 
 steel. 
 
 "Ge± out there!" he ordered through line- 
 drawn lips. "Get out there and phone from 
 the soundproof booth. Ask my friend — ^the vice- 
 president of the telephone company — to find 
 out for us whether Morphy or anybody else m 
 
"MEN AND MOTIVES" 143 
 
 the prison telephoned at four minutes past 
 twelve this morning. Get that?" 
 
 "That was when Stockbridge was shot, 
 wasn't it, Chief?" 
 
 "It wasl" exclaimed Triggy; Drew. 
 
CHAPTER TEN 
 
 "a woman calls" 
 
 TIE bnsinesB of a modem detective agency- 
 is managed in much the same manner as 
 a corporation or a large firm of corpora- 
 tion lawyers. Its tentacles, or operatives, are 
 spread over the globe. Its news and assign- 
 ments come in via wire. Its telephone and tele- 
 graph bills amount to thousands of dollars 
 every year. In no other W8,y can satisfactory 
 results be secured. 
 
 Drew had started his agency on a shoe-string 
 and ran it into a "tannery," in the parlance 
 of the street. He had made many mistakes. He 
 had once, to his knowledge, sent the wrong man 
 to prison. This mistake had been so costly, he 
 never spoke of it. It was soon after the con- 
 viction of the innocent man, that Drew gave up 
 circumstantial evidence and got down to hard 
 work, wherein the evidence accumulated was 
 tempereu with some degree of fact and common 
 sense. 
 
 The first Stockbridge case had been in con- 
 nection with an absconder. This man, Drew 
 
 144 
 
"A WOMAN CALLS" U5 
 
 brouglit back in person from Adelaide. Th® 
 work so pleased the millionaire that when Mor- 
 phy broke under the financial strain and robbed 
 everybody, right and left, Drew was called in to 
 bring the promoter to the bar of justice. It 
 was a long fight, fraught with danger and dis- 
 appointment. The courts dragged. War broke 
 over the civilized world. Morphy fought fiercely 
 — ^like a cornered hyena. He was sent away, 
 after dragging down his confederates. He had 
 sworn at the time of conviction that he would 
 get Stockbridge if it took to the longest day of 
 his life. Drew remembered this oath and prom- 
 ise as he waited for Harrigan to appear from 
 the booth. 
 
 He turned to the magpie and the cage. He 
 studied both with keen eyes which had been 
 trained in the school of hard facts piled upon 
 each other until they poiated a way. Stock- 
 bridge had owned the pet for many years. It 
 was the one domestic trait in his make-up, save 
 Loris. It would be a strange thing, Drew con- 
 cluded, swinging toward the window, if Mor- 
 phy and Morphy 's confederates were to fall 
 through a remembered couplet dropped by the 
 magpie. It was in the order of events, however. 
 It was the bright, particular finger which 
 pointed toward the prisoner at Sing Sing. Noth- 
 ing would be more logical than for the bird to 
 remember the millionaire's last words— or dy- 
 
146 WHISPERINa WIEES 
 
 ing words. They would be shrieked aloud and 
 unforgetable. 
 
 "More snow," said Drew to himself. "This 
 is a white day if ever there was one. I wonder 
 if Delaney got to the house in time?" 
 
 He turned as a " Buurrrr 1 Burrrr I ' ' sounded 
 at the ringing-box below the desk. 
 
 "Hello!" he said sharply into the transmit- 
 ter. "HeUo! Who's this?" 
 
 He waited as some out-of-town connection 
 was made. A thin voice broke in from the si- 
 lence. The voice rose in timber. * ' Oh, Hello ! ' ' 
 exclaimed the detective, recognizing Flynn, on© 
 of his operatives. "Hello, Flynn," he said. 
 "What's the weather like out at Morristown? 
 Yes ! . . . Yes ! ... Oh, is that so. . . . What? 
 . . . Too bad! . . . Well, you better come in. 
 . . . Take the first traia and jump on the job. 
 ... He's in Florida, eh? . . . Well, that lets 
 him out. . . . Good-by, Flynn!" 
 
 Drew reached for a pencil and scratched a 
 name off his list before he hung up the receiver. 
 "That leaves six," he said, running his eyes 
 down the names of the suspects. "Six to go. 
 We'll round them up — or out. It looks bad for 
 one or two of them ! ' ' 
 
 He dropped the pencil to the desk with a flip 
 of his fingers. He replaced the telephone re- 
 ceiver on the hook. He twirled the chair and 
 leaned forward with his hands on his kaee&. 
 
"A WOMAN CALLS" 147 
 
 "Nice bird, you," he said, addressing the 
 magpie. "We're alone, you and L Why don't 
 you tell me what you know — ^what you heard in 
 that library, when the millionaire talked over 
 the phone and then received the cuproniokle 
 bullet in the base of his brain? He said, *Ah, 
 , Sing!' eh? He said it, or we are jumping at 
 conclusions. Have Delaney and I erred — as 
 once or twice before?" 
 
 The bird strutted about the cage. It pecked 
 at a hard, white fish-bone, thrust between two 
 bars. It dipped its bill into the water-holder, 
 then held high its head as it gulped. It switched 
 its tail and hopped onto the first perch. There 
 it sat, with coiled claws, as Drew leaned closer. 
 
 ' * Ah, Sing I " he repeated confidentially. ' ' Ah, 
 Singing! Ossining! Sing Sing! Let me hear 
 you do your prettiest, birdie. Don!" 
 
 The magpie lowered its head and peered out- 
 wardly. It lifted a wing with ruffled dignity. 
 Drew narrowed his eyes, "You were there," 
 he whispered. "You were in that sealed room 
 — ^that double-looked and triple-watched library. 
 How did the murderer shoot down the old man? 
 How could he do it, Don? I think I know whi/ 
 it was done. I'm fairly sure who is directing 
 matters. What I want to know is, what devilish 
 ingenuity of the criminal tribe projected that 
 bullet into the old man's brain? Answer that, 
 DonI" 
 
148 WHISPEBING WIEES 
 
 The bird was as stately as a raven. It seemed 
 to Drew that he heard an echoed "Nevermore." 
 He sat upright and took his hands from his 
 knees. "Answer that, Don?" he repeated. 
 
 "Gone batty, Chief?" asked Harrigan, 
 thrusting his shoulders through the open door. 
 
 Drew glanced up. He passed his hand over 
 his forehead in a sweeping motion as if brush- 
 ing cobwebs from his brain. "Guess I am," 
 he admitted, with a sparkling glance at the pa- 
 per held in the assistant's hand. "Well!" he 
 snapped, recovering himself. "Well, what luek? 
 I see that you got something!" 
 
 "Yep! I got him, aU right. He's hanging 
 around the front office of the prison seeing what 
 he can find out. He says," Harrigan consulted 
 the paper. "He says, Morphy has been wor- 
 ried all morning. That he acts like a man in a 
 daze. Always: " 
 
 "I ^don't want that, now ! Didn't I send you 
 out to call up the vice-president of the telephone 
 company? The same man who helped us early 
 this morning. Westlake!" 
 
 "I was getting to him, Chief! He was busy 
 when I called, so I thought I'd get Frick again. 
 That's all Frick had to say, except a " 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "Except he'll stay there until he receives in- 
 structions from you to the contrary. Says he'll 
 report if anything turns np." 
 
"A WOMAN CALLS" 149 
 
 **Go on with Westlakel" Tlie detective's 
 voice haxdened. 
 
 "WeU, I got him, finaUy. Had to wait tm 
 he cleaned out the callers in his office. He's 
 in charge of maintenance and equipment. He 
 says that Iheir records show " 
 
 * ' Show what f ' ' Harrigan had scowled at his 
 own writing. "It took some time to get this, 
 Chief. Oh, I see. Well, the records of the 
 Westchester Company shows three long-dis- 
 tance calls from the prison between six o'clock 
 last night and this morning. The first one was 
 at seven-ten P, M. to a slot booth at the east 
 end of the New York Central Eailroad Sta- 
 tion." 
 
 "Good!" snapped Drew. "Good! Go on! 
 We're getting there!" 
 
 "This call was for seventeen minutes. It was 
 charged to the prison." 
 
 "What was the booth number?" 
 
 Harrigan consulted his sheet. "I didn't get 
 that," he said, scratching his head. "West- 
 lake didn't give it to me." 
 
 * ' Go on — ^we '11 get it ! Go on ! What was the 
 next call?" 
 
 "The second call, Chief, was to the State Cap- 
 itol Building at Albany. It was for three min- 
 utes. No more ! I guess that was the warden 
 talking to the Pardon Clerk, or something like 
 that. We'U forget it, eh?" 
 
150 WHISPEEING WIEES 
 
 "Chop it out!" 
 
 "The third and last call, Chief," said Harri- 
 gan with haste, "was to the same telephone- 
 booth at the Grand Central Station. Ah, here's 
 the number! That's why "Westlake didn't give 
 it to me on the first call to the booth. Number, 
 Gramercy Hill 9845, Chief. That's over near 
 the east end of the building — on the lower 
 level." 
 
 "A quiet place!" mused Drew. 
 
 "Yes! WeU, Chief, here is the time. The 
 call was for twenty-two minutes, extending from 
 a quarter to twelve — ^midnight — ^to seven miu- 
 utes after twelve. It was charged to the Au- 
 diting Department of the prison." 
 
 Drew rose from his chair. "That covers the 
 hour in which Stockbridge was murdered!" he 
 declared, reaching for the roll-top of his desk. 
 "That's nice work on your part." 
 
 Harrigan flushed slightly. He leaned over 
 and laid the paper upon the desk. Drew took 
 it, folded it with two fingers forming the 
 creases, then crammed it into his breast pocket. 
 The roll-top came down with a bang. HarriganJ 
 lifted an overcoat from a tree, helped Drew on 
 with it, and found the detective's hat. 
 
 ""When will you be back, Chief? ' ' he inquired., 
 
 **Hard to say! Get me some French-gray 
 powder. A little will do. I'm going to see if 
 
"A WOMAN CALLS" 151 
 
 I can get any finger-prints in that booth. They 
 might help!" 
 
 "Will you be back by night?" Harrigan 
 asked, leading the way through the door. 
 
 "Don't know! Get that powder! Tell De- 
 laney, if he calls up, that I'm hot after my 
 man. Tell him to stick up where he is, till he 
 hears from me. Tell Flynn, when he comes in 
 from Morristown, that he can relieve 'Toole 
 who is trailing Harry Nichols. I don't think 
 there is much in that. I'm covering every one 
 ^that's all." 
 
 Harrigan opened the drawer of a cabinet and 
 fingered about till he found a small, round box. 
 of gray powder used for preserving finger- 
 prints. He turned with this and saw that Drew 
 had crammed into his side coat-pocket, a flat 
 camera which the telephone girl brought to him. 
 "Got flash lights?" asked Harrigan. 
 
 "Yes. There's some in the back of this cam- 
 era." Drew slapped his overcoat. "I got 
 everything, I guess. Eemember about Delaney 
 and Flynn." 
 
 The detective moved toward the door which 
 led to the hallway where the elevators were. 
 He turned as Harrigan laid a hand on his shoul- 
 der. "What's that sticking out of your other 
 pocket, Chief?" asked the assistant-manager. 
 "A paper, ain't it?" 
 
 Drew flushed beneath his olive skin. He 
 
152 WHISPEEING WIRES 
 
 pressed the object down with soft fingers. He 
 turned and said simply: 
 
 ' ' That's a picture of the girl in the case. For- 
 got I had it. Good-byl" 
 
 The door slammed as he strode over the white 
 tiling and jabbed at an elevator button with 
 his right thumb. 
 
 Swirled in wind-blown snow from the oflSoe 
 buildings and wrapped to the chin with the col- 
 lar of his overcoat, Drew plunged, with head 
 downward, for the nearest subway station. 
 
 He caught an up-town express, and, after 
 three grinding station-stops, he reached the 
 Grand Central Station wherein was the tele- 
 phone-booth to which the calls had been sent 
 from the prison. 
 
 He made swift work of the matter at hand. 
 Time was pressing. The booths, to the number 
 of three in that portion of the station, were for- 
 tunately empty. 
 
 Going over the slot-box and the tiny shelf 
 in the center booth, which bore the number 
 "Gramercy Hill 9845" on the transmitter. Drew 
 pulled the door shut and dusted all the nickel 
 work and the polished surface of the receiver, 
 with French-gray powder of superior make. 
 
 He took three exposures by aid of small 
 flashes. He opened the door and allowed the 
 smoke to escape. Pocketing the camera, after 
 winding on a fresh film, he entered the booth 
 
"A WOMAN CALLS" 153 
 
 for a second time and inspected its lower 
 paneling for possible clews. 
 
 An oath, close-bitten and expressive, escaped 
 his lips as he discovered a small hole drilled 
 through the woodwork. He stooped and peered 
 through this opening. It led to the next booth. 
 It had been made with a long auger of quarter- 
 inch diameter. Shavings lay upon the floor of 
 the booth. 
 
 He emerged and investigated the second 
 booth. The hole came through, underneath the 
 slot-box. It had been drilled in order to make a 
 connection between the two telephones. He 
 found splinters and sawdust at his feet. He 
 backed out and stood perplexed. There was no 
 way of finding out just what sort of connection 
 had been made between the two booths. All evi- 
 dence of wires had been taken down. Only an 
 expert could give an answer to the new riddle. 
 Drew recalled Westlake as he rushed to the sub- 
 way-platform. 
 
 He found the vice-president busy, with a 
 score of men waiting in the outer room of the 
 telephone company's office. The secretary-in- 
 charge hurried in with his card and his urgent 
 request for three minutes' important matter 
 which could not well wait. 
 
 Drew, however, was forced to wait seven min- 
 utes by hiss watch. He chafed at the delay. He 
 crossed his legs at least once each leaden min- 
 
154 WHISPEEING WIEES 
 
 ute. He feared that the trail was getting cold. 
 Twice he rose, as if to go. Each time the secre- 
 tary had indicated patience by an arching of her 
 brows and a jerk of her thumb toward the 
 ground-glass door. 
 
 "Send in Drew!" boomed as the door opened 
 and let out the caller. Drew strode in with his 
 notes in his hand. 
 
 "Just a minute, Westlake," he said, drop- 
 ping into a chair and leaning over the desk be- 
 hind which sat a good-natured official of the su- 
 perior order. "A minute ! I'm in a jam ! What 
 d'ye make of this?" 
 
 Drew related his discovery in the booths of 
 the Grand Central. He went right to the point. 
 He explained the auger-hole, the shavings, and 
 the fact that it was the same set of booths to 
 which the call had been sent from the prison, 
 over the time Stockbridge had been slain. 
 
 Westlake listened with dawning light. He 
 leaned back as Drew finished talking. He 
 smiled. He thrust his thumbs under .his vest. 
 "You're a hardworking man. Drew," he said, 
 "but you didn't get it all. Do you remember 
 the third call that I gave you this morning? — 
 the one when the chief-operator at Grameroy 
 Hill put the howler on? It was from the same 
 booths you just mentioned!" 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "It certainly was. There's no use looking 
 
"A WOMAN CALLS" 115 
 
 at the record. The number was 9844 Gramercy 
 Hill. In other words we have the evidence to 
 show that a thin, whispering voice called up 
 Stockbridge from one booth iu the Grand Cen- 
 tral at the same time the prison was connected 
 to the adjacent booth." 
 
 "For the love of Mike!" said Drew. 
 
 "Yes — ^your case grows interesting, Chief. 
 You've got a lot of tangled leads and all that, 
 but a little more work should untangle them. A 
 telephone engineer ought to make a crackerjaok 
 detective. He's trained to unsnarl the worst 
 snarls in the world. You ought to see some of 
 our wiring diagrams. It takes study to trace 
 them out. You're learning!" 
 
 "I don't know if I am, Westlake. I think 
 that Morphy, up at the prison, has been 'phon- 
 ing New York, I believe he has a confederate 
 in this town. This confederate, we will say, re- 
 ceived his instructions about midnight last 
 night. He bored a hole through the booths and 
 called up Stockbridge. But what was it all 
 for?" 
 
 "That I can't answer!" 
 
 Drew rose from the chair and crammed his 
 notes in his inner, overcoat pocket. ""What the 
 devil did they do that for?" he asked with flash- 
 ing eyes. ' ' Morphy calls up Gramercy Hill 9843 
 at, or about, midnight. Gramercy Hill 9844 
 calls up Stodkbridge. Stockbridge was killed 
 
156 WHISPERING WIRES 
 
 by a bullet in tbe neck as he's talking over the 
 'phone. Was the call to warn him? Was it to 
 threaten himf Was it to occupy his attention 
 so that the murderer could get in the room and 
 fire the shot?" 
 
 "Did you find out how he got into the room? ' ' 
 asked Westlake, leaning forward. 
 
 "I have not! The whole thing gets weird. 
 I can't sleep ! I'm not going to sleep till I get 
 some light on this!" 
 
 "You look healthy," said Westlake, as he 
 pressed the buzzer for the next caller. 
 
 Drew emerged from the elevator and hurried 
 to the street with short, quick strides. He 
 crossed the snow and pressed open the door 
 to a cigar store. He fished out a nickel and 
 called up his office. 
 
 To Harrigan who answered, he said tersely, 
 * ' Get Flynn up to the Grand Central ! Get him 
 to the east-end telephone-booth, on the lower 
 level. Tell him I'll be there. He's back from 
 Morristown, isn't he? He phoned, eh? Get 
 him to me ! I need him !" 
 
 Drew hung up with a swift flip of the re- 
 ceiver. He hurried to the subway station and 
 caught a local up-town. He had time to flash a 
 fourth and fifth set of photos before Flynn came 
 puffing across the lower level. 
 
 "See here!" snapped Drew, drawing the op- 
 erative into the middle booth. "Bend down 
 
"A WOMAN CALLS" 157 
 
 there where that hole is, and tell me what you 
 see on the varnish." 
 
 "It's finger-prints, Chief. "Two, three of 
 them. Looks like somebody pressed hard when 
 they drilled that hole. The outer print is a 
 good one of a thumb. Left thumb, I should 
 say." 
 
 "That's right! I'm going to find out who 
 made that impression, within one hour. You 
 stay here and grab anybody who tries to talk 
 with the prison. Frick is up there!" 
 
 "How about O'Toole, who's watching 
 Nichols ? ' ' asked Flynn. 
 
 "Leave him stay on that assignment. I need 
 you here. Stick now! Watch everybody who 
 talks over these three phones. Arrest anybody 
 who receives or sends a call to the prison. 
 There's plenty of Central Office men handy for 
 a pinch. Fosdick will back them up!" 
 
 Drew rushed for the subway. He realized 
 that he had wasted valuable time by not taking 
 the complete set of finger-print photos on his 
 first inspection of the booths. It was a detail 
 he had overlooked. But then, he could afford 
 to make mistakes. The men or man he was 
 after, dared not make any. This was a thing 
 he had often recalled in dealing with super- 
 criminals. 
 
 Fosdick 's rooms at Detective Headquarters, 
 on Center Street, were luckily deserted as he 
 
158 WHISPEEING WIEES 
 
 rushed down through the hallway. The Com- 
 missioner widened his eyes as Drew handed 
 over the camera, with a request that the films 
 be developed and prints made within twenty 
 minutes. 
 
 ' ' Can 't be done that soon, ' ' said the detective. 
 "Give us fifty minutes." 
 
 "I'll make it twenty-five!" shot Drew. "I 
 got lots to tell you, but it'U keep. Get those 
 prints and we'll land our man. The last two 
 films have perfect samples of finger-work. Our 
 man slipped there! He signed his own death 
 warrant!" 
 
 The Commissioner pressed a button. To the 
 young man who came, he explained the neces- 
 sity of rushing the developing and printing of 
 the films. He turned as the messenger hurried 
 out with the camera. 
 
 "What about that bullet?" he asked. 
 
 "Just as I said. Commissioner. It was 
 fired from a smooth-bore pistol or gun. What 
 do you think?" 
 
 * ' Oh, maybe not ! Sometimes there isn't much 
 rifling on an old revolver. Those little twenty- 
 two affairs are made out of cast-iron." 
 
 "But the cuproniekle bullet shows smokeless 
 powder and high-class criminal activity. I 
 doubt if one of those little rods would take a 
 modem steel- jacketed bullet. They're used in 
 automatics." 
 
"A WOMAN CALLS" 159 
 
 " But automatios have good rifling. That bul- 
 let was as smooth as before it was shot. Here 
 itisl" 
 
 Fosdick opened a drawer and pulled out a 
 later-day projectile of the lesser-caliber. 
 
 "This is smooth!" he repeated with heat. 
 "It was cut from the old millionaire's brain. 
 It ain't scratched. It never took the rifling it 
 was intended for. My theory is, that it was 
 fired from a gun of larger caliber. That is to 
 say, it didn't fit the bore. A thirty-thirty rifle 
 might be used to hold a twenty-two caliber bul- 
 let. It would not take the rifling of this." 
 
 Drew shook his head. "That's hardly pos- 
 sible," he declared. "It's too vague and doesn't 
 suit me. We're going to find that the deeper 
 we get in this thing, the simpler will be the ex- 
 planation. I remember any number of cases 
 which have been solved in this city where the 
 mystery was so wrapped up in speculation and 
 the improbable that our minds failed to grasp 
 the simple thing which was the solution." 
 
 ' ' Then you think the lack of rifling on the bul- 
 let might be the opening wedge to catching the 
 man who shot Stockbridge?" 
 
 "It could weU be, Fosdick. The lack of a 
 thing sometimes is just as important as the vis- 
 ible clue. Do you remember the Eajah case at 
 Gramercy Park ? ' ' 
 
 Fosdick leaned back in his chair and stared 
 
160 WHISPERING WIRES 
 
 up at the ceiling. "Seems to me that I do," 
 he said, thrusting out his lower lip. "There 
 was a big jewel missing. Sort of an Idol's Eye 
 case — wasn't it?" 
 
 "Exactly! A white diamond was missing at 
 a dinner. Lights went out as they were passing 
 the stone around the table. Lights came on 
 again and the diamond was gone. Everybody 
 accused. A strange print was found on the side- 
 board. Servants knew nothing about it. The 
 print didn't correspond to any which we took 
 there. Seemed impossible and all that. Well, 
 the very fact that the print didn't correspond 
 was the means of finding the stone and the cul- 
 prit. You remember it?" 
 
 "Vaguely." 
 
 "Simple ! A Lascar who waited on the table 
 slipped off his shoes, crept into the room, se- 
 cured the diamond and climbed to the sideboard 
 where he hid it on top of a picture. The thumb- 
 print which we puzzled our heads over was a 
 toe-print! We got the fellow!" 
 
 ' ' I recall it now, ' ' said Fosdick. ' ' I think one 
 of our men thought out the matter." 
 
 "He didn't!" declared the detective. "We 
 worked it out ! The city department had given 
 up the case. This may be the same. I'll ven- 
 ture to say that as soon as you get a good opera- 
 tive some private agency secures his services. 
 Now, Commissioner, confess up. What manner 
 
"A WOMAN CALLS" 161 
 
 of gun could fire a bullet, such as a cuproniokle 
 one, "without leaving markings ? ' ' 
 
 "Smooth bore. An old flint-lock — ^for in- 
 stance." 
 
 "We'll grant that! They're clumsy, however. 
 The shot which killed the millionaire was fired 
 at very close range through a smooth tube of a 
 greater caliber than the diameter of the bullet 
 found in his head. If it were fired through a 
 gun which was rifled, then there was a collar or 
 collars on the bullet, which we didn't find. The 
 same thing was discovered by examination of 
 the shells which the Germans fired at Paris. 
 There was no rifling on those long-range pro- 
 jectiles. The bands dropped off after the shell 
 left the gun." 
 
 "Then this bullet was fired at long range?" 
 Fosdick was openly incredulous. 
 
 "No! Again we have the impossibility or 
 seeming impossibility. I examined that library, 
 both before and after the murder. No shot 
 could have been fired from the outside so that 
 a bullet would reach the old man. If that were 
 the case there would have been an opening in 
 the walls or at the windows or the ventilators. 
 Besides, we have the powder burns on the mil- 
 lionaire's head. We are squarely confronted 
 with a paradox. Riddle me that paradox and 
 we will go a long ways toward finding the man 
 who murdered Stockbridge." 
 
162 WHISPEEINa WIEES 
 
 Fosdick frowned. "I can't see it at all," lie 
 confessed. "I still hold to the theory that we 
 should third degree all of the servants. I've 
 got some of them. If they don't squeal, I'll get 
 the others!" 
 
 Drew glanced at his watch. ' * Personally, ' ' he 
 said, "I'm of the opinion that you will not get 
 anything out of them. I think it was a mistake 
 to arrest them. It would have been far better 
 to trail the butler and the doorman and see if 
 they connected with anybody." 
 
 "I'm doing this!" exclaimed Fosdick with 
 asperity. "I've got charge of this case. Drew. 
 I got charge and I don't want any meddling. 
 I've my own methods." 
 
 "All right," said the detective. "All right! 
 I want a check-up on the finger prints and then 
 I'll be going. I had to come to you for this. 
 You have such an interesting collection." 
 
 "Here's your answer!" said the commis- 
 sioner, rising and striding around the desk. 
 "Take this bullet and look it over. Put it in 
 your pocket. And — — " 
 
 Drew turned swiftly. The messenger stood 
 in the doorway. He came forward as Fosdick 
 nodded. He passed over the hastily developed 
 prints which Drew had taken. The commis- 
 sioner glanced at them, frowned, held them to 
 the light, then said : 
 
 "We'll try these on the Man Who Can't Be 
 
"A WOMAN CALLS" 163 
 
 Beat! He's the best in tlie world. He'll kno-w 
 in three minutes who made these prints if the 
 fellow is on our records." 
 
 The finger-print expert nodded to Drew as 
 they entered a huge room which was lined with 
 mahogany cabinets in the manner of a filing 
 system in a mail-order house. Fosdick passed 
 the five photos into this man's hand. He smiled 
 as the expert adjusted hiS| glasses, pulled out a 
 pocket magnifying-glass, and leaned close up 
 to the prints. 
 
 "We're infallible!" exclaimed the Commis- 
 sioner with superiority. * ' Watch Pope get your 
 man. He'll hound him out in no time. Eh, 
 Pope?" 
 
 The expert was not of a sanguine disposition 
 in the minute which ensued as he ran over the 
 prints, studied them, held them to the light then 
 laid them down on a table and shook his head. 
 
 "We have no record of this fellow," he said 
 coldly. "It looks like a man's print. Here's 
 the thumb and here is the middle finger of the 
 right hand, I think. Hard to tell, sometimes. 
 I'd say, as a pretty sure thing, that we have 
 no duplicates in our collection. Shall I look?" 
 
 " Yes ! Look ! " said Fosdick. 
 
 Drew felt that the case was slipping from him 
 as Pope fluttered from cabinet to cabinet, pulled 
 out drawers, replaced them and tried stiU 
 otiiers. 
 
164 WHISPERING WIRES 
 
 "No go?" he asked as the expert shot back 
 the last cross-index cabinet and turned with 
 , shaking head. " No go ? Try again. ' ' 
 
 "Absolutely no record of the maker of these 
 prints," said Pope, holding out the photos. "He 
 hasn't registered with us yet. Whoever made 
 these prints has never been arrested in the 
 United States for a felony." 
 
 ' ' How about a misdemeanor ? ' ' asked Drew. 
 
 "Nol They're all in this cabinet. Even if 
 he was picked up on suspicion or for auto speed- 
 ing or beating his wife, — if he has one, — ^he 
 would be here. I'm sorry, inspector." 
 
 Drew pulled down the lapels of his black coat 
 and turned toward Fosdick. 
 
 "Have you got a print of Finklestein?" he 
 asked. "You remember the fellow who was ar- 
 rested in the Morphy case. He was afterwards 
 released for lack of evidence or else he claimed 
 exemption. I've forgotten how he got off. He's 
 supposed to be in Florida or somewhere in the 
 South. I had a man out to MorristoAvn who re- 
 ports along those lines. I wish you'd compare 
 these prints with Finklestein's." 
 
 "Go ahead," said the commissioner. "Go as 
 far as you like. I don't think that there is any- 
 thing in these prints. You got the wrong ones 
 —that's all." 
 
 "What's Finkle— Finklestein's initials?" 
 asked the expert. 
 
"A WOMAN CALLS" 165 
 
 "J. B.," said Drew quickly. "Julius B. 1" 
 
 A quick search through an alphabet-index, a 
 consultation of two drawers, out of which the 
 cspert pulled some tiny squares of cardboard, 
 and then a slow shaking of his head, brought 
 Drew back to where he had started from before 
 taking the prints in the booth. 
 
 "No record could be more different," Pope 
 said. "Finklesteia has a big hand and very 
 broad fingers. The fellow who made these 
 prints has a little hand with thia fingers. The 
 whorls and loops are entirely dissimilar. He 
 comes under classification 2-4-X. Finklestein is 
 in cabinet 2-9-0. They couldn't be further 
 away." 
 
 Drew started out through the doorway with 
 Fosdick following him. They stood on the land- 
 ing leading to the downstairs steps, where the 
 detective was about to leave the commissioner 
 with a curt good-by. His hand was out when 
 he drew it back, dropped it to his side and 
 wheeled with sudden intuition. 
 
 "Good Lord!" he exclaimed. "Are you and 
 I detectives or children? Come back to the 
 finger-print room. Hurry now. I want to see 
 Pope. I forgot something!" 
 
 The expert rose as they entered. "Well?" 
 he asked with arching brows and a slight frown 
 on his face. "Well, what is it?" 
 
 Drew pointed a fimger as steady as a rifle. 
 
166 WHISPERING WIRES 
 
 He bared his eyes into Pope's own. "Were 
 yon np to Stockbridge's house?" he asked 
 swiftly. 
 
 "Yes! Why?" 
 
 "Did you take prints and photos of everyr 
 thing in the library? I understand that this 
 was done after I turned the case over to Com- 
 missioner Fosdiek." 
 
 ' ' It was done ! ' ' rasped Fosdiek. * ' Of course 
 it was done. It's always done when a case looks 
 like a homicide!" 
 
 "This case looked worse than that!" said 
 Drew. "It was slaughter!" 
 
 The commissioner turned to the finger-print 
 man. "Where are the prints and photos you 
 took up at the house?" he asked. 
 
 "Still in the developing room." 
 
 "Do you think they are developed?" 
 
 "I'll soon know, sir," he answered, pressing 
 a button. 
 
 The messenger entered who had attended to 
 Drew's prints which the detective took in the 
 telephone-booth. 
 
 "Get down to the developing room," ordered 
 Pope. "Get me all the prints and positives of 
 Exhibit 12 of the Stockbridge case. Bring 
 what is already developed. TeU them to rush 
 the others." 
 
 The three men waited in silence for the re- 
 turn of the messenger. Drew paced the floor 
 
"A WOMAN CALLS" 167 
 
 thoughtfully. He clasped and unclasped his 
 hands behind his back. He had almost slipped 
 in an important matter. It was a chance he -was 
 taking, but a vital one in the case. The finger 
 prints taken by the expert in the library might 
 and might not jibe with those taken in the slot- 
 booth. If they were the same, or any one was 
 the same, the case would offer a new line for 
 investigation. 
 
 A sliding footstep at the door announced the 
 messenger. He held a sheath of curling pa- 
 pers in his hand. Pope reached and snatched 
 the photos. He ran over them with widening 
 eyes. He sorted them into two piles upon the 
 table. 
 
 "Fiv6 prints!" he announced, glancing at 
 Drew with a sly smile. "Five of these prints 
 are the same as your set. In other words, the 
 man who made the impressions in the telephone- 
 booth was also in the library at or about the 
 time of the murder!" 
 
 "Impossible!" snorted Fosdick. 
 
 " Ah ! " said Drew. ' ' Photos don 't lie. Now 
 we're getting there! That's the first light I've 
 seen in some time. It clears the case of the 
 supernatural. It puts it where it belongs — in 
 the material world of flesh and blood and hate 
 and revenge." 
 
 "It does that!" corroborated the expert, sid- 
 ing with Drew. "Now," he added good- 
 
168 WHISPEEING "WIRES 
 
 naturedly, "I'll help out some more. I've got a 
 book of notations made in the library. I spent 
 two hours there this morning. I flashed every 
 print I could see. There's some of the butler 
 on the bottle and the tray. There's a number 
 on the polished table. There are at least six on 
 the door knob, to say nothing of the smashed 
 panel. I suppose yours is among them, inspec- 
 tor?" 
 
 Drew held out his right hand. "Look and 
 see," he suggested with a short laugh. "I've 
 never been printed in my life. ' ' 
 
 "That won't be necessary. These three 
 prints which correspond with the ones you took 
 in the booth, settle the matter. There's no rec- 
 ord of this fellow in our cabinet. But — ^he was 
 in that library 1" 
 
 "Where did he leave his prints?" asked 
 Drew. 
 
 Pope consulted a page of his note book. He 
 thumbed over another page, thrust his finger 
 between the sheet and turned to the photos. 
 "What's the number on the back of that one?" 
 he asked, nodding toward the topmost photo- 
 graph. 
 
 "Ten," said Drew, turning it over and study- 
 ing a penciled number. 
 
 " Ten, " repeated the expert. * ' That is a print 
 which was flashed on the comer of the little 
 
"A WOMAN CALLS" 169 
 
 table wMch was overturned when Stockbiidge 
 fell to the floor after being shot." 
 
 "And the same man made it who made my 
 prints in the booth?" 
 
 "The samel" declared the expert dryly. 
 
 "I don't see where you two are getting," 
 said Fosdiok. "How could a man get into that 
 library, shoot the old millionaire, get out again 
 and go over to a slot-booth?" 
 
 "He might have been in the slot-booth first," 
 suggested Drew with slow smiling. "From the 
 booth he went to the house and killed Stock- 
 bridge." 
 
 "The fact is established," exclaimed Pope, 
 "that the man you are after was in the library 
 and in the booth. That's aU you can say. 
 There's no way to determine the exact hour 
 these two sets of prints were made." 
 
 Drew lifted a second print. "No. sixteen," 
 he said, turning to the expert. "Where was 
 ttiat made?" 
 
 Pope consulted his book. He glanced up at 
 Fosdick, who was ill at ease over the develop- 
 ment in the case. "That," he said, swinging 
 his eyes till they met Drew's, "that was made 
 on the hard-wood floor directly under Stock- 
 bridge's body. We found the print, with others 
 of the little finger and middle finger when the 
 coroner mpved the corpse 1" 
 
 The detective stared at Pope. "You mean," 
 
170 WHISPERING WIEES 
 
 he SEiid slirewdly, "that the man who made the 
 prints in the booth and on the little table, also 
 was down on his kaees arranging Stockbridge's 
 body, or doing something like that?" 
 
 "He made a distinct impression on the floor 
 despite the fact that the body was moved over 
 it. The polish and the varnish helped to hold 
 this impression. I venture to say that it is there 
 yet." 
 
 "Good!" said Drew. "I may have a look at 
 it. I never went after prints in my investiga- 
 tion. I left that to men who knew their busi- 
 ness — ^Uke yourself." 
 
 Pope smiled. He glanced at his book for a 
 third time. "What's the number of that last 
 print?" he asked. 
 
 " Forty-four 1" 
 
 "Taken from the edge of the heavy door 
 which was broken down by Delaney, I guess. 
 Looks like his work." 
 
 "I had a hand in that," admitted Drew. 
 
 "This print was close to the knob. There's 
 none like it on the knob itself." 
 
 ' * Umph I ' ' declared Foadick. 
 
 Drew glanced at the commissioner. He 
 smiled as he laid his hand on Fosdick's shoul- 
 der. "I've got you to thank," he said, "for 
 letting me use the brains and facilities of the 
 police department. I think it clears the case 
 in a remarkable manner." 
 
"A WOMAN CALLS" 171 
 
 "How?" asked the commissioner. 
 
 "Well for one thing," Drew said, lifting the 
 third photo. "For one thing, we know that 
 our man passed through the doorway before or 
 after the murder. He was in the library. He 
 was in that booth which is a half mile or more 
 away from the mansion." 
 
 "I'll grant you that, but what does it prove?" 
 
 Drew laid the photo on the table and turned 
 toward the doorway. "It proves," he said, 
 "that Stockbridge was murdered by a man who 
 was never arrested in New York." 
 
 "That's a large order!" chuckled the com- 
 missioner. ' ' There are a few good citizens and 
 a number of bad ones we haven't got — ^yet!" 
 
 "I'm satisfied," said the detective, pulling his 
 hat down over his head. "I'm going to look 
 for a man who is too clever for his own good. 
 He's stayed out of your clutches. He's forgot- 
 ten more about telephones than most men know. 
 He's as slippery as an eel and as clever as the 
 very devil. In one thing only did he err, so far 
 in this chase." 
 
 "What's that?" asked the commissioner. 
 
 "He didn't wear gloves on the job. That's 
 .where we may trip him up." 
 
 "They all forget something," said Fosdiek, 
 as Drew hurried out through the door with a 
 bow toward the staring finger-print man. 
 
 The detective hurried down the steps,-^ 
 
172 WHISPERING WIRES 
 
 passed the sergeant at the entrance, and turned 
 np his coat coUar as he plunged from the build- 
 ing and lowered his head beneath the down driv- 
 ing snow. The entire matter was as he had told 
 Delaney. He would have to find who made the 
 prints ! 
 
 Deep, drifted snow barred his progress as he 
 struck down through a towering canon and 
 walked eastward. He had no coherent idea save 
 the one that he wanted the grip of the open 
 places in his lungs and the feel of freedom from 
 stifling rooms and skeptical men. 
 
 The case had resolved itself into a battle of 
 wits wherein the culprit who had murdered 
 Stockbridge, by unknown means, had all the ad- 
 vantages. He was unknown. He had the larg- 
 est city in the world to hide himself in. He 
 could strike at any time and in any quarter. 
 Also, the detective realized, with a chilly oath, 
 the murderer might already be fleeing the city 
 for the south or west. It would be a natural 
 thing for him to do. 
 
 Drew had one undisputed qualification for a 
 detective. He was a worker. He lacked the 
 Latin sense of deduction, or the cleverness of a 
 great operative who secured his men through 
 quick brain work and shrewdness. 
 
 Hard work, and more work and still more 
 work had won for him the little position he held 
 in the city. He did not overrate his own pow- 
 
"A WOMAN CALLS" 173 
 
 ers. He had failed too often to hold himself 
 too highly. Chance was a big factor in the crim- 
 inal game. The members of the criminal tribe 
 worked through luck and sheer audacity. Many 
 escaped from the net and moved in the under- 
 world until they made their final mistake which 
 was probably so glaring it couldn't be over- 
 looked. 
 
 Despite the fact that the finger prints were 
 not of record, Drew held to the swirling conviO' 
 tion that the man he was after was of the crim- 
 inal horde. There was much to lead him to this 
 belief. The cleverness in coimecting up the two 
 telephone booths — the warning through the mail 
 to Stockbridge — the manner in which the mur- 
 der had been covered up in a score of deteiils, 
 all pointed to a criminal mind of the cunningest 
 order. It savored of practice in crime and 
 study of natural conditions. Its bizarre fea- 
 tures placed it out from other crimes and raised 
 it to a class of its own. 
 
 The snow which impeded the detective's 
 steps, in some manner cleared his brain. He 
 began to review the series of events. He boxed 
 the case with returning shrewdness. He went 
 over the points like a sailor repeating the com- 
 pass-chart. He even saw a light. 
 
 This light was a star that guided him around 
 a comer and then along the long reach of a 
 white-mantled street where children shrilled 
 
174 WHISPEEING WIEE8 
 
 and played. Snow-balls flew past his head. 
 Sleighs and muffled taxis churned by. Women 
 in furs and heavy cloaks glanced up at his olive 
 face from which peered sanguine eyes bent upon 
 ^a known destination. 
 
 He paused at the foot of a flight of steps 
 leading to a library. In this building he knew 
 there would be on file certain data concerning 
 three links of the chain«whioh he was trying to 
 forge about the criminal or criminals who had 
 slain Stockbridge. 
 
 He entered the storm-door, shook the snow 
 from his coat, and removed his hat with a 
 swinging bow as he drew erect in front of a 
 prim lady at a desk. 
 
 "I want all the books you have on modem 
 telephony, ' ' he said with a winning smile. " I 'm 
 sure that you have one or two." ' 
 { The prim lady who knew a gentleman when 
 she saw one, raised her brows and rapidly 
 thumbed over a filing-card system. 
 
 * * One or two, ' ' she repeated. ' ' Why, we have 
 over twenty. Now just what branch of Tele- 
 phony do you want? There are a number of 
 divisions in the subject. We have Smith on 
 Central Office practice. We have Steinward on 
 Induced Currents in Relation to Magnetism. 
 We have Oswerlander on Switchboards and 
 Carbon Transmitters. We have Burke on Cir- 
 eoits and Batteries. We have — — '" 
 
"A WOMAN CALLS" 175 
 
 "Hold on, please," said Drew, catching Ms 
 breath. "I better try something easy. One of 
 those Juvenile books with simple diagrams and 
 switchboards or junction-boxes." 
 
 Drew carried the book to an alcove which 
 was deserted. He took off his coat, himg it on 
 the back of a chair, upended his hat and sat 
 down with a tired smile. Soon he was busy in 
 the mystery of electricity in relation to the 
 telephone. He conned over the pages. He 
 browsed along like a novice trying to under- 
 stand trigonometry. He frowned over siieh 
 teiTns as micro-ampere and micro-volt. He 
 grew dizzy following wiring diagrams which 
 were far worse than any clue he had ever at- 
 tempted. 
 
 "A telephone.engineer," he said half aloud. 
 "A man who could trace out this stuff ought to 
 make a mighty fine detective. I never saw such 
 a snarl. Now what does hysteresis and lamina- 
 tions mean? What's the idea of having an al- 
 ternating current of low voltage on the same 
 line with a talking current of three volts? I 
 don't see how they can get two currents on one 
 set of wires. Maybe they don't." 
 
 He tossed the book to the table in front of 
 him and rose with a frown. This frown changed 
 to a wrinkled furrow of half amusement as he 
 hurried back to the little prim lady. 
 
 "Too deep for me," he said, referring to tbe 
 
176 WHISPEEING WIEES 
 
 book she had given him. "That may be a be- 
 ginner's treatise, but I'm in the kindergarten 
 class in electricity. What's a mioro-volt?" 
 
 "I'll look it up, sir," she said. 
 
 "Never mind. I wouldn't know, after you 
 did. Suppose you get me a book on magpies." 
 
 The librarian fingered her files. "Try Birds 
 of England," she suggested, coming from be- 
 hind her desk and gliding like a pale shadow 
 over to a bookcase. "Try this. It's complete. 
 You'll find magpies and starlings and piemags 
 and any number of plates of six colors in this 
 splendid volume." 
 
 "The one that interested me was black as a 
 crow," he said, as he turned toward his alcove. 
 "Perhaps there are white magpies as well as 
 white crowB. I never saw one, though. My 
 bird's a deep one." 
 
 The little librarian stared after Drew's van- 
 ishing form with a slight pucker between her 
 eyes. For a man of his solid respectability, the 
 series of actions were strange indeed. She sat 
 down and wondered if he was a moving picture 
 editor trying to connect black magpies and tele- 
 phones. 
 
 Drew appeared in two minutes. He leaned 
 over the desk and startled the lady with a re- 
 quest for anything pertaining to guns and pro- 
 jectiles. These she had in plenty. A great many 
 
*'A "WOMAN CALLS" 177 
 
 var books had been purchased during the period 
 which followed America's declaration. 
 
 The detective erected a breastwork with the 
 books she brought. He conned them with un- 
 derstanding until he came to ballistics and tra- 
 jectory. He stopped there. He rose. His brain 
 was cranimed with fact upon fact. He had the 
 formulae of smokeless powder and the analysis 
 of cupronickle bullets. He had absorbed muz- 
 zle velocity and angle of fire. He fairly bub- 
 bled over with good humor as he thrust his 
 hands into his overcoat, caught up his hat and 
 started out the door after glancing back and 
 bowing to the librarian who smiled a good-by. 
 
 The street was dark save for the glow of the 
 overhead arcs. He thrust out his arm and 
 tested the snow fall. It was not as heavy as 
 when he had entered the library. He went down 
 the steps, turned toward the north and plowed 
 along the sidewalk. 
 
 Suddenly the thought came to him to glance at 
 his watch. He had forgotten time and place 
 over the hours in the pursuit of knowledge 
 which might and might not be applied to the 
 case at hand. It was almost six o'clock. 
 
 "Lord," he said in surprise. "I'm going 
 crazy. Two hours in a trance. Now for work. 
 I wonder what the operatives will have to re- 
 port? They ought to have something. I won- 
 der," he added, peering under the fine drizzle 
 
178 WHISPEEING WIEES 
 
 of snow, "I wonder where the nearest tele- 
 phone is located? Another block, I guess." 
 
 His brain gathered up the skeins of the case 
 as he hurried along. Finger-prints, plaster- 
 casts, smooth bullets, locked rooms and a raven- 
 black magpie, trooped into their proper forma- 
 tion. He dwelt longest on the telephone infor- 
 mation he had gathered in the library. The 
 case seemed bound up in whispering wires and 
 broken connections which might be spliced to- 
 gether with patience and hard work. 
 
 The whole matter, from the call of the mil- 
 lionaire, down to the clew discovered in com- 
 paring the finger prints at Detective Headquar- 
 ters, was a city-spread network of telephone 
 connections which had to be traced back to an 
 elusive individual who flitted like a shadow or 
 a whirling dervish across the detective's vision. 
 
 He reached the drug-store, paused outside, 
 glanced up and down the white-robed street, 
 then pressed the door open and stamped inside. 
 He found a nickel. Dropping this in the slot 
 and closing the booth, he asked Central for his 
 office phone. 
 
 The connection was made with Harrigan on 
 the other end. * * "What's new in the Stockbridge 
 case?" asked Drew in a whisper. 
 
 He listened. He grew rigid as the faithful 
 operative summed up the entire series of re- 
 
"A WOMAN CALLB" 179 
 
 ports. There were six of them. The last was 
 from Delaney. 
 
 "Hang up!" the detective ahnost shouted in 
 his eagerness. ' * Hang up, Harrigan, and let me 
 get him." 
 
 Finding a quarter instead of a nickel, Drew 
 dropped it in the large slot and jiggled the re- 
 ceiver 's hook until Central answered. 
 
 "Get me Gramercy Hill 9764!" he exclaimed. 
 * * Quick ! 9764 Gramercy HiU I ' ' 
 
 ' ' That 's her number, ' ' he said aloud. ' 'Loria 
 Stockbridge's number. It must be her number. 
 1 haven't forgotten that, have I?" 
 
 The time consumed in getting the connection 
 seemed endless. Drew lifted one damp sole 
 from the floor of the Ipooth and then the other. 
 The receiver's diaphragm clicked finally. 
 "Hello!" he snapped. "Hello, who's this!" 
 He waited a full second. "This Delaney?" 
 he asked. "Who? "he added. "Oh! you're the 
 maid! Well get me Miss Stoekbridge or Mr. 
 Delaney. Yes, Delaney. D-e-1-a-n-e-y!" 
 
 "This Delaney? . . . No! . . . Who? . . . 
 Nichols? . . . Harry Nichols? Hello, Nichols! 
 . . . Is Delaney there?" 
 
 The big operative's voice sounded with a rasp 
 on the wire. ' ' What's the news ? ' ' asked Drew. 
 "What's that you've been telling Harrigan? 
 Something about a coffin? A coflSn? What—a 
 
180 WHISPEEING WIRES 
 
 casket? A hardwood casket. 1*11 be right up! 
 I'm comiag!" 
 
 The detective's olive face was the color of 
 burnt pottery as he flipped the receiver on the 
 hook, thrust his knee agaiast the door and 
 charged out of the booth and into the drug- 
 store. He wheeled, turned his coat collar up, 
 drew down his hat and dashed outside as an as- 
 tonished clerk leaned over the prescription 
 counter and stared after him. 
 
 The. message that Delaney had sent over the 
 snow-crusted wires, and along the underground 
 conduits, was laden with menace. It drove Drew 
 westward through the drifts like a man who had 
 a whip held over him. He crossed two avenues 
 before he sighted a taxi. He charged after this, 
 sprang to the running board, and shouted into 
 the driver's muffled ear. 
 
 "Drive like sin — full speed and more — ^up 
 Fifth Avenue ! I'll tell you when to stop 1 The 
 devils are not going to kill that little lady if 
 I can help it," he added, as he opened the door 
 and climbed inside the taxi. 
 
CHAPTER ELEVEN 
 
 NIGrHT was falKng upon tlie greatest city 
 in the world. After night would come 
 tlie myriads of electric lights in the huge 
 Broadway signs — the surface cars creeping 
 through the snow-fall like glow worms — ^the 
 muffled pedestrians and the chain-tired taxis, 
 with their well-groomed patrons, hastening to 
 ballrooms, cabarets and theaters more luxurious 
 than any dreamed of by Lucullus. 
 
 Into the tide of this forming stream of wealth, 
 Drew's taxi turned and ground northward 
 through the drifts. The detective had given no 
 definite address. He wanted the air of the Ave- 
 nue for at least two blocks, before he reached 
 the Stookbridge mansion. He signaled as a 
 familiar comer came in view. He turned his 
 overcoat collar up to his chin and stepped out, 
 as the driver brought the taxi to a slow stop 
 at the curb. 
 
 "Stay around the corner!" he ordered. 
 "Stay, till I send word. Here's a dollar for 
 supper. Get that and wait!" 
 
 The driver touched his cap and reached for 
 
 181 
 
182 WHISPERING WIEES 
 
 the biU. Drew swrmg northward, threw baek 
 his head, and plowed along the snow-laden side- 
 walk. Delaney's statement over the telephone 
 had stirred every drop of red blood in his body. 
 Loris was ia danger ! This nerved him on. He 
 clenched his gloved fists as he reached the first 
 side street. He crossed the wheel-churned snow, 
 with his lips gripped in a hard white line. His 
 eyes raised ia heavy-lidded scrutiny of the tow- 
 ering turrets and spires of the mansion. Lights 
 shone from its windows as if in defiance to the 
 powers of darkness which encompassed the 
 dwelling. 
 
 A snow-crusted form stepped out from a base- 
 ment shelter. Drew raised his arm as a barrier 
 when a figure of a man lurched in his direction. 
 
 "Hello, 'Toole !" he blurted, recognizing the 
 operative. "What are you doing here?" 
 
 'Toole jerked a mittened finger in the direc- 
 tion of the mansion. "Our lad's in there," he 
 said, thrashing his arms and flipping his finger 
 for a second time. "Harry Nichols!" he ex- 
 plained. 
 
 "S — ol The whole case seems to be gather- 
 ing again. Every clue leads this way now. 
 What did you learn, to-day?" 
 
 'Toole yawned. "I got on the job early," 
 he said with frosty breath. * * I waited. The lad 
 came down. He got in a taxi and I'm right 
 after him. First he went to the Quartenoas- 
 
"THE CLOSING NET" 183 
 
 ter's Offices at the Battery. Then lie went to 
 Governor's Island. From there I trailed him 
 to the Eed Cross Headquarters. He 'phoned 
 Grameroy Hill 9764, at least threei times." 
 
 "To the girl in the case?" 
 
 "Yep, Chief I He's gone on her. He tended 
 to some funeral matters connected with Stock- 
 bridge, bought some flowers — ^three dozen lilies 
 of the vaUey — then came on up here. I've been 
 waiting a long time." 
 
 "Seen anybody about?" 
 
 "Delaney and some Central Office men— ' 
 that's aUl Shall I stay here?" 
 
 "Not here! Jump back in the alley and 
 watch the junction-box. I think Delaney has 
 been there. You'll find the snow melted in 
 spots. Plant somewhere, and keep your eyes 
 open. Grab anybody you see tampering with 
 the wires to the house. I'm looking for trou- 
 ble to-night. They threatened Loris with a let- 
 ter this afternoon." 
 
 Drew did not stop to explain. He hurried on 
 ahead of 'Toole, turned at the iron-grilled 
 gate, passed through and pressed the button. 
 
 A Central Office man with a gold-badge show- 
 ing, jerked the door open and glanced out. He 
 blinked sagely as he recognized the detective. 
 
 "All right!" said Drew. "Let me inl" 
 
 The door swung wider. Drew lunged through 
 ajid turned. * * "What 's new ? " he asked, pointing 
 
184 WHISPEEING WIEES 
 
 a 'thumb over his shoulder. "Are those serv- 
 ants still under arrest?" 
 
 "Some of them, Inspector," grunted the Cen- 
 tral Office man, "I can't talk much. Fosdick 
 gave me hell for talking to a newspaper man. 
 He left word, though, that you could come in." 
 
 "Thanks!" Drew said dryly. "Thanks! 
 That's kind of him. You are holding down this 
 door?" 
 
 "Sure, Inspector! The butler and the second- 
 man are down at Headquarters. I don't like 
 the job, but orders is orders." 
 
 Drew loosened his overcoat, removed his kid- 
 gloves, stamped his snow-covered shoes on the 
 rug, and hurried past the library, where stood 
 a burly Central Office man on guard. He 
 mounted the steps with the running motion of 
 a boy of fifteen. He glanced upward to where 
 velvet-soft light glowed at the entrance to 
 Loris Stockbridge's suite of rooms. Delaney 
 stood framed in the opening. His huge bulk 
 blotted out the inner rooms. His face, seen in 
 the high shadows, was long and grim. 
 
 "She's in there," said the operative, raising 
 his chin over his lifted arm. * * Miss Stockbridge 
 is in there. She's with her maid — one Fosdick 
 tried to pinch — and Harry Nichols. She's got 
 a notice by special delivery, that the coffin she 
 ordered from the Hardwood Casket Company, 
 of Jersey City, wiU be delivered to-morrow. 
 
"THE CLOSING NET" 185 
 
 She never ordered any coflSn, Chief. Ain't that 
 dirt — ^to a girl like that! [What d'ye think of 
 iti" 
 
 Drew's answer to Delaney's qnestion was a 
 grinding of teeth and a sharp oath of defiance. 
 He clutched the operative's arm in a nipping 
 grip. He led him into the tiny reoeption-hall 
 of the snite. 
 
 The detective paused on the threshold of a 
 larger room. He dropped his hand from De- 
 laney's arm. He stabhed sharp glances here 
 and there, about the interior. He widened his 
 eyes as they came to rest upon a further door- 
 way, which was hung with soft tapestries gath- 
 ered to the side-walls by cords of silk. Beyond 
 this doorway, like the vista of some rare paint- 
 ing, -shone an inner light of a woman's shrine. 
 
 SUver and pearl and old rose blended into a 
 bower such as is found in palaces. Tiny me- 
 dallions and plaques and miniatures — ^narrow 
 framed studies in oil — ^fans, vases, statuettes of 
 ivory and rare china, a hundred choice and 
 dainty objects of haute-art were in that splen-, 
 did room. 
 
 Drew advanced over a rug so soft and deep he 
 felt like a peri entering Paradise. He brushed 
 aside the tapestries and strode swiftly forward. 
 His hat came off as Loris advanced to meet him 
 from a large chamber, wherein the color scheme 
 
186 WHISPERING WIRES 
 
 had been worked out in black and white with a 
 suggestion of green-in-gold. 
 
 He forgot the material things of that apart- 
 ment as he bowed gallantly. He thrust his hand 
 forward and clasped strong fingers over her 
 own. The grief of her father's death had 
 widened her eyes and set them in circles of 
 dark brows and tear-stained features. Her 
 voice clutched in her throat as she tried to speak. 
 Her hand was drawn from his slowly. It raised 
 to her broad forehead beneath her blue-black 
 hair, with a passing motion that dispelled some 
 of the doubt within her. She smiled wanly. 
 Her round, young breast rose and fell with the 
 rustle of perfumed laces. She swished her lav- 
 ender gown behind her with a turn of a white, 
 supple wrist upon which was a tiny, diamond- 
 studded watch of superior make. 
 
 "Courage!" said Drew. "Have courage! 
 They won't get you!" 
 
 "They — they," she breathed. "They have 
 threatened me like they threatened poor father. 
 They sent a letter. Oh, I wish I were a man!" 
 
 Drew flushed beneath his olive cheeks. He 
 reached upward and turned down his overcoat 
 collar. He laid his hat on a chair, braced his 
 shoulders, and stared around the room. His 
 eyes wandered from the walls to the inner open- 
 ing. "Who's in there?" he asked. 
 
 "Harry — Harry Nichols. I telephoned for 
 
"THE CLOSING NET" 187 
 
 him. I was afraid. I admit I'm afraid, Mr. 
 Drew. You know what they did to father ? ' ' 
 
 "Yes, I know. It was an error on my part. 
 "We did not take the proper precautions. But 
 this time — ^we will!" 
 
 "I hope you do. I don't feel like myself, 
 after last night. It came so suddenly. I heard 
 you people talking in the lower hallway. I went 
 to the bannisters and saw aU the servants at 
 the library door. And then — and then, I went 
 down without a particle of warning. It was a 
 shock, Mr. Drew," 
 
 "One I could have spared you," admitted the 
 detective. "It was preventable," he added, 
 taming toward Delaney. 
 
 The operative stepped forward. He struck a 
 chair with his foot and tumbled it over. Picking 
 it up and setting it down on its legs, he flushed 
 gniltily. 
 
 "Be careful ! ' ' snapped Drew. * ' Get me that 
 letter this young lady received from Jersey. Get 
 it! We'll look it over right now!" 
 
 Delaney glanced at Loris. ' * She 's got it, ' ' he 
 said. "I gave it back to her." 
 
 Loris shuddered and pressed her hands to 
 her breast. "I tore it up," she whispered. "I 
 was so excited and angry I tore it up. It's 
 in the waste-basket." 
 
 "Fetch the basket!" said Drew to Delaney. 
 "Go get it. "We'll make this room our head- 
 
188 WmSPEEING "WIEES 
 
 quarters," he added, swinging about on one 
 heel. "We'll stay right here and watch things, 
 Miss Loris." 
 
 The girl nodded prettily. Her courage came 
 back with flushed cheeks. She glanced up at 
 Drew's strong jaw and face. The detective 
 squared his shoulder with a final shrug. * ' We '11 
 stay here ! " he said masterly. * ' Though all the 
 demons in hell are closing in on you, we'll 
 stick. We'U get them this time! I've almost 
 got my man. If he moves his pawns to-night, 
 we'll round up the whole bunch and send them 
 to the chair!" 
 
 "Are there more than one?" 
 
 "Yes! One is directing — another or others 
 iare doing his will. Tour father was slain in 
 some mysterious manner which we have not, as 
 yet, determined. The man, or men, who caused 
 him to meet with death, left their marks behind 
 them — fingerprints — footprints, voices over 
 wires, and other evidences of material deviltry. 
 They blundered a score of times ! They should 
 have killed that magpie. They did not wear 
 gloves when they should have worn gloves. 
 They forgot, or overlooked, that telephone calls 
 can be traced. We've traced them. We've al- 
 most succeeded. The trouble is, that time is 
 short. What was in that letter!" 
 
 Loris turned toward the inner room. Dela- 
 ney, followed by Harry Nichols in full uniform. 
 
"THE CLOSING NET" 189. 
 
 appeared. The operative held out a haadful of 
 scrapped paper. 
 
 ' ' Ain 't much to learn here, Chief. It 's pretty 
 well toniTip. I remember what it said, though. ' ' 
 
 "Eepeatit!" 
 
 "It was from the Hardwood Casket Company 
 of Jersey City. It was dated this morning. It 
 said thatthe coffin Miss Stookbridge ordered for 
 the lady who was about to die in her family, 
 would be delivered to-morrow afternoon by ex- 
 press at her town house, as ordered." 
 
 "The cursl" exclaimed Drew. 
 
 * * Sure they are. Chief. The letter was signed 
 by the manager. I think it was the manager. I 
 couldn't read his writing!" 
 
 "Let me see the scraps." 
 
 Delaney sorted them into a small stack and 
 passed them to Drew. The detective lifted each 
 fragment, held it to the light, and placed it into 
 his right overcoat-pocket. "I get it," he said. 
 "It looks genuiae. Did you telephone them?" 
 
 "Nope! I was a-waiting for you to come up 
 here. There's a phone here. It's over there !" 
 
 Drew nodded. "I saw it," he said thought- 
 fully. "We better be careful how we use the 
 phones of this house. They tapped the wires 
 before, and they can do it again. We're fight- 
 ing very high-qlass devils." 
 
 "It doesn't seem real!" blurted Harry Nich- 
 
190 WHISPEEINa WIRES 
 
 ols. "I thought that death only stalked in No 
 Man's Land. It's right here, gentlemen!" 
 
 Drew frowned and shook his head. He 
 glanced at Miss Stookbridge. He rubbed his 
 hands softly. "No more danger," he warned 
 in a confident voice. "We've got twenty Cen- 
 tral Office men in the house or about the place. 
 No bank was ever better protected. There will 
 be no real trouble to-night." 
 
 ' ' That's what you said the other time, to fath- 
 er," Loris suggested without thought. "You 
 did — ^you remember? You were in the library 
 and he felt so confident nothing would happen. 
 Somethiag did happen!" \ 
 
 "I admit it!" Drew said with candor. "I 
 admit everything. Miss Loris. I'm partly to 
 blame. The trouble was, I underestimated my 
 adversary. A man should never do that. This 
 time, though," he added with glazed eyes that 
 roamed the walls. "This time is going to be 
 different. Now, how about all your rooms ? We 
 must be sure that there is no slip. We must 
 be sure " 
 
 "Sure, we must be sure!" interrupted Dela- 
 ney. "I've looked everywhere, Chief. Leave 
 that to me!" 
 
 Drew glanced at Loris, who had stepped to- 
 ward Harry Nichols. He studied the picture the 
 two made, with their heads close together. The 
 captain held himself defiantly, but with that cer- 
 
"THE CLOSING NET" 191 
 
 tain polish wMdi goes with a fondness for the 
 things of life worth having. He had chosen a 
 rather pretty girl, and npon her he had lavished 
 his attentions. He had defied Stockbridge ! This 
 was motive enough for a crime. He was not 
 the crinainal, decided Drew. There was that to 
 the captain's resolute, though thick lips, and his 
 wide eyes, which assured the detective he would 
 not stoop to low things to gain his ends. He 
 had enlisted voluntarily. He had worked hard 
 at Plattsburg. He had served, and was upon 
 the eve of going to Pershing. No man with 
 such a record would slay a girl's father to gain 
 the girl. 
 
 The detective erased Harry Nichols from his 
 mind. * ' You two, ' ' he said oommaudingly, * * had 
 better go into the library ! I mean Miss Stock- 
 bridge 's writing-room. Stay there, please, till 
 Mr. Delaney and I notify you. Who else, be- 
 side we four, are in this part of the house?" 
 
 "Only the maid," said Loris. 
 
 "Go in, please, and wait. I'm going to look 
 everything up. We're going to take every pre- 
 caution this time. Frankly, I don't see how any 
 agency can do more than we have already. Were 
 we deaHng with ordinary crooks or blackmail- 
 ers, I would have you take a taxi and move to 
 some Fifth Avenue hotel. But it seems an un- 
 nwjessary risk. This is the safest place in the 
 yrorld, despite the letter from the casket com- 
 
192 .WmSPEEING WIEES 
 
 pany and the former waxning. What man can 
 enter this place to-night — ^without our permis- 
 sion?" 
 
 ^'I'd like to see one I" blurted Delaney. 
 
 Harry Nichols offered his arm to Loris. They 
 passed from the view of the two detectives with 
 the locked, gliding stride of two dancers who 
 moved to slow time. Drew heard the portieres 
 which led to the writing-room rustle downward 
 and settle into place. He passed his hand over 
 his forehead and breathed deeply. 
 
 "We'll get busy," he whispered tersely. 
 "We'll search these rooms again. Let's start 
 with a definite foundation!" 
 
 Delaney grunted at the uselessness of this as 
 he reached and took the detective's overcoat 
 which was peeled off and extended to him. 
 
 "Hang it on a chair," said Drew sharply. 
 "Over there with my hat. Now," he snapped, 
 "what about the windows of this room, the lit- 
 tle reception hall and the bed-room over theret 
 That's a bed-room, isn't it?" 
 
 "Sure, Chief I I frisked it good. The Cen- 
 tral Office men were up here early in the morn- 
 ing. They went through everything. Fosdick, 
 they say, was like a bull. He said the thing 
 couldn't be done." 
 
 "It was done!" 
 
 "Did you get any due, Chief, as to how it 
 was done?" 
 
"THE CLOSING NET" 193 
 
 "It's as nmch a mystery as ever. But we're 
 triimning the tree called Truth with a broad 
 ax. I'm going around this case to get the man 
 or men who did it. Then we'll find ont how it 
 was done!" 
 
 "Oh!" Delaney's expression was thought- 
 laden. " Jnst thought of it, Chief. I got them 
 plaster-of-paris oasts. I got 'em down stairs. 
 It was some job, believe me. I took everything 
 about that junction-box, after I'd thawed the 
 snow With hot blankets which a good-looking 
 oook brought to me." 
 
 "Go down and get them!" 
 
 Delaney hurried out through the tapestries of 
 the room. Drew started his search of the apart- 
 ment by a study of the windows and the catches. 
 He opened one and glanced outside. Snow had 
 drifted to the depth of three inches on the sill. 
 This snow was xmmarked. He examined all of 
 the sills extending from the three rooms. He 
 closed and locked the windows. He backed off 
 into the center of the reception room and studied 
 the situation from every angle. The furniture 
 was fragile and in sets of such splendid periods 
 his eyes closed over them. The rugs and tapes- 
 tries — curtains and portieres — sheathings of 
 yellow hand-painted sUk from Nippon — ^rare 
 ceramics and cloisonnes — a huge peach-blow 
 vase of the Ming dynasty and a hundred little 
 
194 WHISPEEING WIRES 
 
 jade and jasper knick-knacks were the outward 
 evidence of wealth.. 
 
 He opened the plate-glass cases and peered in- 
 side. He crawled under a couch and backed out 
 dusting his hands. He tapped with slow 
 knuckles a long cheval-glass by the side of 
 which was a tiny gold-bracket and a silver-plat- 
 ed telephone. He went the rounds of the walls, 
 lifting pictures, portraits and little military 
 oils by French painters of the Franco-Prussian, 
 period. He found nothing to excite his suspi- 
 cion! 
 
 Entering a simple bed-room, with its tiled- 
 flooring and its single white bed, he spared this 
 as he passed to the bath beyond, -which had no 
 outlet save a ventilating shaft securely barred 
 by a bronze grating of dose, fantastic-scrolled 
 mesh. 
 
 Delaney's heavy steps were heard in the re- 
 ception hall as Drew finished. Striding out in- 
 to the larger room he frowned as the operative 
 deposited a blanket upon a Persian rug and be- 
 gan to untie its comers. 
 
 "I got 'em here, Chief," explained the assist- 
 ant with upturned face. "There's five or six 
 prints — all alike." 
 
 "What? Repeat that!" Drew dropped to 
 one knee. 
 
 "Sure, Chief. There's only been one gay at 
 that junction-box before the freezing started. 
 
"THE CLOSING NET" 195 
 
 Ho made plenty of tracks. He came and went 
 from the fence to the box. It's a small foot. 
 There was plenty of prints made after the snow 
 piled on top of these little prints." 
 
 "The operatives?" 
 
 "Sure, and the Central Office bunch! But 
 these prints I got here are the only ones under 
 the snow. They stuck up when I melted away 
 the surface." 
 
 Delaney offered a plaster-cast of the top of 
 a foot-print. It was roughly done. It had been 
 made, like the others in the blanket, by pouring 
 cold plaster within a retaining bulge of soap. 
 The plaster had hardened and brought out each 
 detail Drew traced his finger over the toe. 
 "Eight foot," he said. "Now let's see the oth- 
 ers 1" 
 
 "Here's a left foot, Delaney," added the de- 
 tective slowly. "Only one left and four right. 
 That might happen. You didn't take them alL 
 Well, bundle them up and plant them some- 
 where. Put them under that couch, out of sight 
 I've got an ideal" 
 
 "What is it. Chief?" asked the operative as 
 he drew on the knots until he had gathered the 
 corners together. "What's new? I can't see 
 anything in sight, at-tall, at-tall. One man — 
 that's all I see." 
 
 "And that's all I see — ^th© trouble-hunter-^ 
 Delaney!" 
 
196 WHISPERING WptES 
 
 "But what about tlie taU guy who looked like 
 a German? The feUow the trouble-man saw 
 getting over the fence and beating it for Fifth 
 Avenue!" 
 
 "He didn't leave any tracks!" 
 
 ' ' Ah, Chief, get out ! That ain 't human 1 ' ' 
 
 Drew paced the floor with his hands clasped 
 behind him. He wheeled with sudden energy. 
 "Go, you!" he exclaimed with a pointing fin- 
 ger. "Hurry out of this house and telephone 
 Gramercy Hill Exchange. Tell the superintend- 
 ent to send over that trouble-man. I want to 
 compare these prints with his shoes. He couldn't 
 have been lying. There's no object in that I 
 But, Delaney, how could a man tap in on that 
 junction-box and never leave prints in the snow? 
 That's my question!" 
 
 ' ' How could one shoot a man in a sealed room, 
 Chief? There ain't much difference!" 
 
 Drew snatched out his watch. "Hurry," he 
 said. * ' Get over to Gramercy Hill Exchange—^ 
 it's only three blocks from here. Ask Jack 
 Nefe, or whoever is in charge, for the trouble- 
 man who fixed the phone last night. He'll be 
 able to tell us what part of the fence the tall 
 fellow, who looked like a German, got over. 
 Perhaps he wasn't at the junction-box at all!" 
 
 "Who, Chief?" 
 
 "The tall fellow! Perhaps ho was skulking 
 about the windows at the back." 
 
"THE CLOSING NET" 197 
 
 "Perhaps he was a ghost," said Delaney to 
 himself as he lunged through the tapestries 
 toward the staircase which led down frona the 
 third floor of the mansion. 
 1 Drew crossed the room and rapped softly on 
 '; a panel by the portieres which covered the open- 
 ing to the reading-room an.d library. He heard 
 a muffled word of warning. Loris Stockbridge 
 glided across the rugs and peered out. Her 
 face was set and tear-stained. She had been 
 sobbing upon an olive-drab shoulder. 
 
 "Pardon," said Drew with a slight sigh. "I 
 beg pardon, Miss Stockbridge. I want to look 
 over the sitting-room and examine the windows. 
 "Where is the maid?" 
 
 Loris touched her eyes with a handkerchief 
 drawn from her breast. She replaced this and 
 nodded over her shoulder. She parted the por- 
 tieres with her unjeweled right hand. "The 
 maid," ahe said softly, "is in her room. That's 
 back of this reading-room. Shall I call her?" 
 
 "You and Mr. Nichols come in here, please," 
 said Drew. "I'll knock on the maid's door and 
 look her over. "We can't be too careful — remem- 
 ber that. It's getting late," he added with can- 
 dor. 
 
 Drew allowed Harry Nichols and Loris to 
 pass him as he held the portieres for them witii 
 a thoughtful bow. He crossed the reading- 
 room, examined the books and cases, glanced 
 
198 WHISPEEING WIRES 
 
 under a low divan, and saw to it that each win- 
 dow was latched before he knocked lightly upon 
 a further door which was hidden by curtains. 
 
 A maid appeared, in smart white apron and 
 pursed lips of inquiry. Drew regarded her not 
 unkindly. He ran his eyes up and down her 
 trim figure from the black bow in her brown 
 hair to the wide ribbons which laced her trim 
 French shoes. 
 
 "How long have you been with Miss Stock- 
 bridge?" he asked. 
 
 "Merci, Monsieur!" she courtesied. "It has 
 been for zee longest time. Cinq— sept, awnee, 
 monsieur," she counted mentally. 
 
 "Good!" said Drew closing the door lightly. 
 "Good little girl. We won't bother you the 
 rest of the night," he added as he turned a good 
 key in a perfectly good lock and dropped the 
 curtains. 
 
 "Now!" he said with a final glance about 
 the reading-room, with its morocco-bound tomes 
 and glowing lights. "Now, let the worst come! 
 Let that come what may ! ' ' 
 
 He strode through tO' the reception room, 
 glanced slit-lidded at Loris and Nichols, who 
 had seated themselves in the deeper recess of a 
 splendid alcove, and hurried to the hall where 
 Delaney was hastily removing his coat, and 
 showing other evidences of some answer to his 
 quest at the telephone exchange. 
 
"THE CLOSING NET" 199 
 
 "WeU?" asked Drew as the bulk of the big 
 operative loomed tbrougb the tapestries. "Well, 
 what did you find out over there?" 
 
 "Enough, Chief!" Delaney's voice was hard. 
 He glanced at Loris and Nichols. His right eye 
 closed in a warning wink of caution. 
 
 "Come into this other room," said Drew. 
 "Come right in, Delaney. This way!" Drew 
 lifted the portieres, then dropped them after the 
 operative had stumbled forward. 
 
 "What did you find?" he asked into Dela- 
 ney 's ear. " Out with it ! " 
 
 The operative glanced about the reading- 
 room. He blinked at the glowing electrics. He 
 recovered his voice as he drew in a deep breath 
 which bulged his chest to barrel proportions. 
 
 * * I went, ' ' he said huskily. ' ' I went to Gram- 
 ercy Hill Exchange. Found the superintendent. 
 . . . Fellow, you told me to find, Chief ... I 
 draws him to one side. ... I asked about this 
 trouble-hunter. ... He ups like I'd hit him, 
 ;. . . He says fellow quit to-day. . . . Says fel- 
 low. . . . Says he was no good. . . . Says he 
 was tapping joints instead of soldering them. 
 Says he only hired him on account of the short- 
 age of electricians and helpers . . . because of 
 the last Army draft." 
 
 "Did you get his address?" 
 
 "I got it. Chief. . . . It is over on Fifty-third 
 Street near the River. ... I didn't go. ... I 
 
200 WHISPEEING WIRES 
 
 ■waated to see you first. . . . There's more." 
 
 "Out with it!" 
 
 "The superintendent says he never sent 
 that trouble-hunter over here last night. . . . 
 There's a record of sending another man named 
 Frisby." 
 
 "Did you see— Frisby?" 
 
 "I did, Chief." 
 
 "What did he say?" Drew's fingers had 
 clutched the operative's arm. "What did he 
 say?" he repeated grimly. 
 
 "Said, that Albert — that's the trouble-hunter 
 — ^had stopped him on the way over here and 
 took his place. . . . Said, he was satisfied. . . . 
 Albert could have all the jobs on a night like 
 last night. That's just what Frisby said, 
 Chief I" 
 
 Drew loosened his fingers from Delaney'a 
 arm and turned slowly. The portieres swayed 
 slightly. They shook anew. They parted at 
 the center and revealed Loris Stockbridge. Her 
 eyes burned the soft gloom with glazed interro- , 
 gation. She raised her white hand and pressed 
 back her hair from her forehead. She stepped 
 forward with her knees striking against the 
 stiff satin of her skirt. She swung from Dela- 
 ney toward Drew, 
 
 "What were you saying?" she asked imperi- 
 ously. "What did you say about a trouble- 
 man? What was it, please?" 
 
"THE CLOSING NET" 201 
 
 "I'm lookin' for one, Miss!" declared Dela- 
 ney. "I was over at tiie telephone company's 
 exchange lookin' for the lad that was here last 
 night and fixed the junction-hox in the yard back 
 of the house. Mr. Drew wants him." 
 
 Loris turned toward the detective. "You 
 want him?" she asked softly. "What do you 
 want him for? Please tell me. I don't like him, 
 at all." 
 
 It was Drew's turn to draw in his breath. 
 He eyed the girl. He tried to fathom the rea- 
 son for her simple question and her objection. 
 "Miss Loris," he said, shrugging his square 
 shoulders. ""Why, it's a slight matter. The 
 man has disappeared. We can't find him. He's 
 flown — ^perhaps. ' ' 
 
 "Is he a little chap with a satchel and a 
 testing set?" she asked. "A nice-mannered, 
 soft-voiced little man who was so obliging, and 
 yet so — oh! I don't know what I have against 
 him. He's so sly— don't you think so, Mr. 
 Dr— e— w?" 
 
 "When did you ever see him?" asked Drew, 
 feeling the blood rising to his cheeks at a 
 thought which surged through his brain. 
 
 "Meet him? Why ! he was here early this af- 
 ternoon. He was all over the house!" 
 
CHAPTER TWELVE 
 
 TRIGGY DREW had been trained in the 
 hardest school in the world. Loris 
 Stockbridge's statement, delivered with 
 such sincerity and so naively, completely upset 
 him. It was like a gentle reminder that, as a 
 hunter of men, he had failed. He took the blow 
 with flaming cheeks and an almost stopped 
 heart. 
 
 Delaney realized that something of moment 
 in the case had happened. He stared at his 
 chief, then turned his eyes upon Harry Nichols, 
 who stepped through the portieres and stood by 
 Loris' side. 
 
 "What is it. Chief?" asked the operative. 
 "Was there anything in what she said?" 
 
 "Anything!" exclaimed Drew, recovering 
 himself with a tossing shrug of his shoulders. 
 "Anything? Everything! The man we want 
 is " 
 
 "Found?" breathed Loris clutching Nichols' 
 arm. 
 
 "Not yet — ^but very soonl" said the detective 
 
 202 
 
"SUSPICION FASTENS" 203 
 
 with sanguine eyes. "We want tliat trouble- 
 liunter, Delaney," lie added gathering ia the 
 details for action as he spoke. "Tou'U have to 
 hurry right over to the address and see if you 
 can round him up. If he isn't there — get him ! 
 I want him brought here at once. He's got 
 much to explain!" 
 
 "I'll go right now," said Delaney, starting 
 toward the reception room. 
 
 "Wait," said Drew. 
 
 Delaney turned at the portieres. 
 
 "Don't phone me here," the detective 
 warned. "Don't do anything by telephone. 
 We're on the trail of a man or men who can. tap 
 wires. He or they may have a confederate ia 
 this house. Be careful — get your suspect and 
 bring him here. We'll try him with the foot- 
 prints. We'll check up with the finger-prints. 
 Then, if he don't cave in, we'll turn him over 
 to Fosdick and the Third Degree. I firmly be- 
 lieve that Albert, whom I saw in the library 
 and who was in this house ia the early after- 
 noon of this day, is implicated ia the murder. 
 Strange that I never suspected him." 
 
 "I'm going!" growled Delaney, tearing his 
 eyes away from Loris and glancing through the 
 curtains. "I'm right after him, Chief. I won't 
 stop till I get him, either." 
 
 "If you don't make it in thirty minutes," said 
 Drew glancing sharply at his watdi, "if you 
 
204 WHISPEEING WIRES 
 
 don't make it by then— come back here. Per- 
 haps something will have turned up in the mean- 
 time. Get that?" 
 
 "Sure, Chief! Good-by!" 
 
 Delaney had passed through the portieres, 
 crossed the reception room and pressed aside 
 the tapestries leading to the hallways, before 
 Drew stepped to the broad doorway and mo- 
 tioned for Loris and Nichols to take their for- 
 mer positions. He waited until they were seat- 
 ed with their faces in the shadow cast by the 
 overhead silken hangings. He spoke then, and 
 to the point. 
 
 "This case," he said, thrusting his hands in 
 his coat pockets and striding back and forth. 
 "This case is clearing clue by clue. The trou- 
 ble-man, whom some one let into the house this 
 afternoon, is the missing link in the chain of 
 circumstance and applied deduction. "Who let 
 him in?" 
 
 "I did!" 
 
 Drew stopped in his stride. * ' You, Nichols ? ' ' 
 he questioned sharply. "Why did you let him 
 in?" 
 
 "Because I asked Harry to," defended Loris 
 with heat. "I heard the bell ring. I sent the 
 maid downstairs. She came back and told me 
 that a man from the telephone company was 
 waiting to look over the connections. She said 
 
"SUSPICION FASTENS" 205 
 
 that lie said that there was trouble with the 
 wires." 
 
 "I don't believe it!" exclaimed Drew; "that 
 is," he added hastily, "I don't believe there 
 was anything the matter at all. In the light of 
 what Delaney has told me, that fellow came 
 here'last night,.when some one else named Fros- 
 by or Frisby was sent. Now why would he 
 want to take another's place! For one reason 
 only — the same reason that he came here this 
 afternoon. This reason concerns your future 
 health and security. We had one death ia this 
 house which followed his first visit. We don't 
 want anything to happen after his second visit." 
 
 "You are right, Mr. Drew," said Nichols. 
 "I was careless. I went down stairs and talked 
 with the fellow. It was just a few minutes 
 after I arrived from downtown. He seemed so 
 plausible that I asked the Central Office Detec- 
 tive at the door, who gave the permission. It 
 was all my fault, I guess." 
 
 "Where did this fellow go? What did he do 
 in the house?" 
 
 "He went into the library and tested the 
 phone there. The connection seemed to be all 
 right Then he went down stairs and tested 
 the butler's 'phone. The butler, had been taken 
 as a material witness by Fosdick. I followed 
 the man. He didn't do anything but test and 
 
206 WHISPEEING WIRES 
 
 tiieii talk with Fraaiklin Official— I think it 
 was." 
 
 "Are you sure he talked over the phone? 
 It's ridiculously easy for a person to hold down 
 the hook and make believe they are talking to 
 most anybody." 
 
 "I don't know about that, Mr. Drew," said 
 the captain, turning toward Loris. "Did he 
 talk to anybody when he used this 'phone, Miss 
 Stoekbridge?" 
 
 "I believe so, Harry. I really thought he 
 did." 
 
 Drew furrowed his brows in perplexity. There 
 was no evidence shown that the trouble-man 
 had ever talked with anybody, via wire, from 
 the mansion. He recalled the first appearance 
 of the lineman in the library. That time both 
 calls, to Central, might have been feigned by 
 holding down the hook and speaking into a dis- 
 connected transmitter. The man was clever. 
 He knew all there was to be known concerning 
 telephony. 
 
 "I'm a child," the detective concluded, swill- 
 ing about the room in perplexity. "One thing, ' ' 
 he added aloud to Loris and Nichols. "One 
 thing ! "We are absolutely alone in this part of 
 the house. I have locked the maid in her room. 
 No one can get through the door to the hall. 
 IThere's a spring lock on it, Delaney closed it 
 Vfheaa. he went out." 
 
* ' SUSPICION FASTENS" 207 
 
 "And there's a score of detectives scattered 
 about," said the captain reassuringly, as he 
 leaned toward Loris. ""Why should we fear 
 anything at all?" 
 
 , "I wouldn't, Harry," said Loris, "if it wasn't 
 for what happened to poor father. Mr, Drew 
 took the same precautions and had everything 
 locked £iud watched. It doesn't seem as if we 
 were in New York at all. It seems like some 
 mediaeval time and place." 
 
 Drew reached for a fragile-looking chair, 
 turned it, sat down and thrust his custom-made 
 shoes out across the rug in the direction of 
 Loris and Nichols, whose faces shone white 
 and drawn in the soft light of the alcove where 
 they were seated. 
 
 Swirling thought surged through the detec- 
 tive's brain. He went over the case with dulled 
 understanding. Briefly, he had eliminated the 
 former suspects and compressed the matter into 
 a 5mall compass. His conclusion brought him. 
 to his feet with slow swaying from side to side. 
 Some one in state prison was probably directing 
 matters. Some one in New York was carrying 
 out the arch-fiend's orders. This free agent had 
 the nerve of the damned and the cunning of 
 Cagliostro. He had succeeded in planting a con- 
 federate in the mansion, or entering himself, 
 and slaying Stockbridge. The entire case, con- 
 cluded Drew, rested in capturing the free agent 
 
208 .WHISPEEINO ?S7IEES 
 
 before he could do further murder. Ldris was 
 marked and had been from the first. 
 
 "What servants remain?" he asked, dropping 
 his hand on his right hip po(jeket and feeling the 
 bulge of an automatic there. "Which of the 
 servants, Miss Stockbridge, haya Fosdick and 
 his men left for yout" 
 
 "The French maid," said Loris softly. 
 
 "I saw her! She looks all right. She says 
 she has been with you five or six years." 
 
 "Six — almost. It's been over six years, Mr. 
 Drewl" 
 
 ' * That ought to let her out of the case. Now, 
 the next one?" 
 
 ' ' The housekeeper, Mrs. Seeley. She has been 
 with us ten or twelve years — ever since I can 
 remember. Mother thought the world of Mrs. 
 Seeley." 
 
 "Who else?" 
 
 "Father's valet. They didn't arrest him." 
 
 "He was down to my office. He looks aU 
 right. I'll cross him off the list of suspects. 
 Now, are there any more servants in the 
 house?" 
 
 "There's a French chef and a pantry man, I 
 think. Also there 's a poor old darkey who tends 
 to the furnace. I don't believe he leaves the 
 basement. I never see him, only on holidays." 
 
 "The butler, then, and the doorman and the 
 second man and the rest of the servants have 
 
♦'SUSPICION FASTENS" 208 
 
 been tsken. down, to Center Street for interroga- 
 tion and as suspects. That leaves us with very 
 few to handle, Miss Stookbridge. I'm goiag to 
 start by securing the door which leads iato the 
 hallway. Then we'll wait here." 
 
 Drew hurried through the tapestries, stopped, 
 ;and examined the lock of the door before he shot 
 home a second bolt which was functioned by a 
 butterfly of heavy gold alloy. He stood erect 
 with both hands pressing at his temples. It 
 came to him with double force that the same 
 precautions had been taken when Stockbridge 
 was alone in the library downstairs. There was 
 the lock of superior make and the winged-latch. 
 There was the two-inch, or more, door of dark 
 wood. There were the servants and detectives 
 both within and outside the mansion. Yet the 
 millionaire had been reached in a secret manner 
 through all the precautions. 
 
 "Things repeat, sometimes," mused Drew, 
 fingering the catch and the flat key. ' * The same 
 
 conditions bring the same results. I " 
 
 ' The detective's voice trailed into a whisper as 
 he heard footsteps outside the door. He reached 
 back to his pocket and waited. His heart 
 thumped like a prisoned bird within his breast. 
 It was a case of strained nerves. He felt the 
 responsibility of guarding Loris. 
 
 * * Bah !" he exclaimed, recovering himself and 
 
210 WHISPEEING WIRES 
 
 squaring Ms jaw. "Bah," he repeated. **Ii's 
 somebody for me." 
 
 He opened the door after twisting the butter- 
 fly and turning the flat key in the lock. A blurred 
 figure pressed forward. A gruff voice boomed 
 from a muffling collar. 
 
 * ' Hello, Chief ! I 'm back in a half -hour ! No 
 luck, either!" 
 
 Drew waited until Delaney had removed his 
 overcoat and overshoes, which he placed in one. 
 corner by a hall-tree. "What did you find?" 
 he asked glancing toward the tapestries. 
 
 "The fellow's beat it for good. Landlady 
 says he owes her one week's rent. He cleaned 
 out with a suit-case and left this." The opera- 
 tive reached in his pocket and brought forth a 
 single drill of quarter-inch diameter. He held 
 it out. "All I could find. Chief, after a quick 
 frisk. This was in the mattress." 
 
 "Eegulation lineman's wood-bit," said Drew 
 as he examined the size number on the shank. 
 "This might have been the one used ia boring 
 the hole between the slot-booths at Grand Cen- 
 tral Station." 
 
 "Then Albert is the lad, Chief?" 
 
 "We don't know, yet. There's lots of bits 
 like this one. Did you try it for finger-piints ? ' ' 
 
 "They're all rubbed off! I had to pull it 
 from the mattress. It was stuck in a hole near 
 the foot of the bed." 
 
"SUSPICION FASTENS" 211 
 
 "Hold it!" said Drew. "Hold it for evi- 
 dence. Pnt it with your plaster casts. 
 Now " 
 
 "WeU, Chief!" 
 
 Drew glanced at his watch. "I'm goiag out 
 to that drug-store, ' ' he said. ' ' I want to phqtie. 
 I can't use the phones of this house. The 
 wires may be tapped. You stay right by this 
 door and wait tiU I get back. It won't be more 
 than ten minutes. Go get my hat when you're 
 putting the bit away. It 's in the corner by Loris 
 and Nichols. TeU them I'm stepping out and 
 that you will stand guard. They might hold 
 me. She is very nervous." 
 
 Delaney was back at the detective's side, after 
 a dxmisy stride through the tapestries. "Cute 
 couple," he said, jerking his thumb over-shoul- 
 der toward the inner room. "They're sittin' 
 there so close you couldn't get a sheet of paper 
 between them. I like that colleen. Chief I She's 
 the kind you see on them magazine covers — 
 only prettier.'^ 
 
 **A cat can look at a queen," quoted Drew, 
 pulHng down his hat and opening the door wide. 
 "Be sure and lock this after me," he wamed. 
 "Lock and bolt it. Stand guard and don't let 
 anybody in at aU. I'm only going round the 
 block." 
 
 Delaney shut the door and turned the key. 
 He followed this action by twisting the butter- 
 
212 WHISPEEING WIEBS 
 
 fly. Then he drew Tola gun and waited, grimly 
 alert. 
 
 Drew reached the drug-store after a brisk, 
 lung-cleansing walk through the down-driving 
 snow. He dropped a coin in the slot and first 
 called up his office. Harrigan, who had re- 
 mained at his post, answered for most of the 
 operatives who were out on the case and who 
 had 'phoned in at every opportunity. 
 
 "Get Frick at the prison," Drew shot back, 
 after making a few notes. "Get him and tell 
 him to call up this 'phone," Drew glanced at 
 the number over the transmitter. "Tell him 
 to call up Grameroy Hill 9749 and let whoever 
 I station here, know to whom and to what num- 
 ber Morphy is talking in New York. Get 
 that?" 
 
 "Sure," came back over the wires. "Sure, 
 Chief. You want to pinch the fellow he's con- 
 necting with?" 
 
 "I certainly do," said Drew. "We can work 
 it this way. As soon as I find out from Frick 
 where Morphy or anybody else is 'phoning from 
 the prison, I can get a man over there in time 
 to make the arrest. The superintendent at 
 Gramercy Hill wiU help us out if the call comes 
 through his exchange. He can get the girl to 
 stall for a minute or two. I'll send Delaney 
 here to hold this end of the wire. You keep 
 Mm posted as to developments. 'Toole, yes! 
 
"SUSPICION FASTENS" 213 
 
 He's planted in the alley back of the house. He 
 can't report. All the others are all right!" 
 
 Drew hung up with a flip of the receiver. He 
 backed out of the booth and hurried around the 
 comer. He reached the iron-grilled gate of the 
 mansion with his head down and the snow seep- 
 ing between his collar and his neck. 
 
 "Rotten night 1" said the Central Office man 
 at the door. "I don't think we'll hear anythiag 
 from anybody. Them gunmen like the back- 
 rooms of saloons too well to puU off a gun-play 
 in this storm, Inspector." 
 
 "You never can tell," said Drew, shaking 
 his coat and hurrying toward the stairway 
 which led to Loris Stockbridge's apartment. 
 
 Delaney opened the door after a repeated 
 knock in Morse code. He eyed his chief. He 
 motioned toward the inner rooms. ' ' All quiet, ' ' 
 he said with a broad smile. ' ' Them turtle doves 
 sure like to be left alone." 
 
 "And you would too ! Especially if you lost 
 your only relative the night before — ^lost him 
 ia the way she lost hers." 
 
 The big operative gulped down the thrust. 
 "What did you find out?" he asked in a husky 
 whisper. 
 
 "Get your coat on. Get over to that drug- 
 store and plant near booth — Grameroy Hill 
 9749. Frick, at the prison, is going to call that 
 booth up as soon as Morphy or anybody else 
 
214 JVHISPEEINa WIRES 
 
 there tries to get New York. If Frick gives 
 you a inimber, call up the superintendent at 
 Gramercy Hill and tell him who you are. He's 
 on duty all night. He'll give you the address 
 of the number, and stall the call. That'll give 
 you time to rush to the address and grab your 
 man." 
 
 "I'll grab him, Chief!" rumbled Delaney, 
 reachiag for his storm coat which was sup- 
 posed to be fur-lined. "Leave that to me I" he 
 added. " Jus ' leave it tu me ! " 
 
 Drew eyed the operative's huge hands. "I'll 
 do that," he said with a short laugh. "Now 
 hurry! No, wait." 
 
 "What is it, Chief!" asked Delaney in the 
 doorway. 
 
 "If the address is downtown, or in Brooklyn, 
 what would you do then?" 
 
 "I'd get the office, Chief, and have Harrigaa 
 rush over a man. This super at Gramercy Hill 
 ought to be able to stall that call long enough 
 for us to coimect — ^with both hands and both 
 feet." 
 
 "Go to it!" said Drew, pressing Delaney out 
 through the door. ' ' Good luck, ' ' he added as he 
 twisted the key and shot the bolt. "Now we 
 are getting there," he said softly. "Unfortu- 
 nately for that devil up-the-river, he has to 
 phone from one place. That's the thing which 
 will beat him. I hate to think what would hap- 
 
•'SUSPICION FASTENS" 215 
 
 pen if he wa3 outside giving orders. He could 
 get away with it, nicely." 
 
 Drew never felt surer of himself in a case. 
 He tested the lock and bolt for a second time. 
 He draped the tapestries and strode into the 
 sitting room with his shoulders held back — a 
 sanguine light in his olive eyes. 
 
 "WeU, Miss Stockbridge," he said, pausing 
 in the center of the room and smiling. ' ' I think 
 we are on the verge of big things. The attempt 
 cannot be made to-night without we have plenty 
 of warning." 
 
 "Good!" exclaimed Loris, standing upright 
 and arranging her lavender gown about her 
 slipper-tops. "That's the best news I've heard 
 in a long time, Mr. Drew," she added, glancing 
 archly at the detective, beneath her dark lashes. 
 "Has that Mr. Delaney found any one?" 
 
 Drew raised his brows. Loris' question was 
 not exactly a compliment to the big operative, 
 who meant so well. 
 
 "He hasn 't found anything, ' ' said Drew, -with 
 soft, pleasing voice. "He hasn't done that, 
 but I'm venturing my future reputation that he 
 will find our man — the trouble-man perhaps." 
 
 Harry Nichols stepped to Loris' side. "We 
 were children there," he admitted frankly. "At 
 least I was. I never suspected him at all. His 
 manners were so pleasant. He seemed so weak 
 and intent about his business." 
 
216 WHISPERING WIRES 
 
 "Ahl" said Drew, raising Ms finger. "That's 
 it! He was intent about his business. Only, 
 this particular business concerned the taking of 
 a human life in cold blood. Mr. Stockbridge 
 was murdered by this fiend, in the guise of a 
 harmless trouble-hunter. How the murder was 
 accomplished and by what letiial method we do 
 not know. I'm acting on the theory that if we 
 catch the man we will find out how it was done. 
 If I can't make him — Fosdiok, Commissioner of 
 Detectives, will. May God help him if he doesn't 
 taJktoFosdickl" 
 
 "But can't we find out how father was 
 killed?" asked Loris, with tears glazing over 
 her eyes. "It don't seem — it don't " 
 
 The captain caught Loris about the waist and 
 led her to the divan in the alcove. She sank 
 down with her face covered with her hands. Soft 
 sobs, brought to her throat by the memory of 
 the murder, caused Drew to pace the rugs with 
 alert, nervous strides like a man who would 
 guard her from some menacing shadow. He 
 went to the ventUators and closed them slightly. 
 He crossed the room to the radiator-boxes and 
 set them in an open position. He adjusted a 
 thermostat on the wall, to seventy degrees. He 
 stood back then and listened with both ears 
 strained for outside soimds. 
 
 Snow sifted across the curtain-drawn panes 
 ynih a cutting of fine diamonds against dia- 
 
"SUSPICION FASTENS" 217 
 
 monds. A wind whistled and moaned and swirled 
 over the turrets and towers of the mansion. 
 An echo lifted from the driving traffic of the 
 Avenue. Below this echo, so faint it seemed 
 like a murmur of a distant sea, the city throbbed 
 with the shifting of the whimpering wind. Once 
 it roared. Then afterward there was silence, 
 save for the-sifting snow, and Loris' low, throat 
 choke from welling sorrow. 
 
 She sat up finally and dried her eyes. "I 
 should be ashamed of myself," she said, brok- 
 enly. "I must be brave. I fear something, 
 though. It seems to be in the room or the air. 
 What is it I fear, Mr. Drew?" Her question 
 was vague. Her eyes shone hectically bright 
 and strangely alluring to the detective. 
 
 "There's nothing to fearl" he declared with 
 a direct glance. "I'm armed I Then," he add- 
 ed as an additional encouragement. "Then, 
 Mr. Nichols is a soldier I You are in safe hands, 
 believe me I" 
 
 Harry Nichols bowed politely. "I've got a 
 gun, myself," he admitted candidly. "It's not 
 that little one, either. It's army regulation. 
 It, or the ones like it, have been stopping the 
 Huns. I guess we'll take care of anything that 
 comes up to-night, Mr. Drew. It's getting late, 
 isn't it?" 
 
 The detective glanced at his watch. "I ought 
 to hear from Delaney," he said, replaciiig the 
 
218 [WHISPERING WIRES 
 
 watch and reaching for a chair. "Delaaey is 
 like old Dobbin— faithful and slow." 
 
 Drew sat down, pulled at the knees of his 
 black trousers and rested his heels on the thick 
 soft pile of a Persian rug. Behtud him was 
 the cheval glass and the telephone stand. , Be- 
 fore him, and in the shade of the silk draperies, 
 Loris' eyes glowed alongside the captain's reso- 
 lute face. 
 
 The minutes passed with the trio in the same 
 position. The snow sifted across the cold panes. 
 The wind whiaed. Suddenly between gusts, Lo- 
 ris asked point-blankly: 
 
 "Do you suspect that man, Morphy?" 
 
 ' ' Yes ; I do I " said Drew with a snap. * ' I be- 
 lieve that every single lead we have points to 
 him. I believe he planned to destroy your fath- 
 er ever since the day of conviction. I be- 
 ieve " 
 
 "But he is in prison." 
 
 "Ah I" said the detective, with bright eyes. 
 "So is his master, Lucifer, in the lower regions. 
 He's there, but he has a long arm. Morphy 's 
 tool in this affair is probably the telephone re- 
 pair-man. You saw him. Mr. Nichols saw him. 
 I saw him. We aU agree that he does not look 
 the part of a scoundrel and a scoundrel's tooL 
 But," Drew paused and spread out his hands; 
 "but," he continued, "that's the reason he was 
 chosen for Morphy 's murderous work. You 
 
"SUSPICION FASTENS" 219 
 
 can't send a thng into a drawing room — or a 
 library. You can't cut a sharp slice with a dull 
 tool. This trouble-hunter is all that the name 
 implies — a hunter of trouble. I don't doubt 
 that we have the case rounded up, save for 
 bringing him in. Morphy, we can get at any 
 time. He's in prison and he's getting very 
 close to the little green door that leads to the 
 electric-chair. One slip to-night, and we have 
 him!" 
 
 "Miss Stockbridge must go south aftei* the 
 funeral," said Nichols. "She can't be jeopar- 
 dized ! She is nervous and has suffered acutely. 
 I for one am sorry we let her stay here. It is 
 the place she should not be. They know where 
 to look for her!" 
 
 "They're beat to-night," assured Drew, ris- 
 ing and stretching his arms. "My I my!" he 
 added, "this is slow, sleepy work. I'd ask for 
 tea, but I think it's best we stay locked in here. 
 Don't you. Miss Stockbridge?" 
 
 * ' Marie can get some. There 's a service-wait- 
 er running up to her room. Suppose I order 
 tea, or coffee,, and cakes. It might cheer us 
 np?" 
 
 Drew held out a warding arm as Loris rose 
 and started toward the writing room. "I'll 
 tend to it, ' ' he said. * ' You stay right here close 
 up to Mr. Nichols. We're taking no chances at 
 all." 
 
220 .WHISPEEING WIKES 
 
 The detective parted the portieres and 
 knocked upon the maid's door as he turned the 
 key Avith his left hand. He waited as she gave 
 the order through a silver-plated speaking tuhe. 
 He heard the service-waiter rising. He leaned 
 forward and took the tray with a sharp glance 
 ahout the maid's room. It was as clean and 
 as neat as a work basket. A French novel, with 
 a vivid portrait of a poilu carrying a very sharp 
 bayonet on its cover, lay in the center of a white 
 counterpane on the bed. 
 
 "Good-night!" he said as he closed and care- 
 fully locked the door. He reached downward 
 and caught up the tray. He started across the 
 writing-room. He paused in its center as he 
 heard : 
 
 "Burrrr! BurrrrI Burrrrr!" 
 
 ShriUingly the perfumed air of the suite vi- 
 brated with the silver notes of the telephone. 
 Drew hesitated, with the tray balanced in his 
 hand. He took one step forward as Loris 
 swished across the sitting-room, lifted the hard- 
 rubber receiver and voiced a soft, "Hello!" 
 
 Drew let go of the tray and sprang forward. 
 He parted the portieres and watched Loris' 
 face. It changed between seconds to a flushed 
 mask of crimson-fear. She staggered back, 
 dropped the receiver, and cried "Harry!" as 
 she sank to the floor. 
 
 Drew darted across the rugs and snatched up 
 
"SUSPICION FASTENS" 221 
 
 the instrument. He heard a low, chuckling 
 laugh that died to a whisper and then to,' noth- 
 ingness. He flipped the receiver back on the 
 hook. He turned with a savage twist. He 
 stared across the room toward Loris, who had 
 risen to her knees and whose head was against 
 Nichols' olive-drab breast. 
 
 "What was said?" he questioned sharply. 
 
 A mass of turbaned, midnight-hued hair un- 
 coiled and fell about the girl's white face. Glo- 
 rious eyes dulled, then glowed, with the fire 
 which was pulsing withia her. Her lips trem- 
 bled and went blanched as she throated brok- 
 enly: 
 
 "The man — the man at the other end said. 
 ... He said that his master had ordered my 
 coffin. , . - He said that I had only a few hours 
 to live. ... He said that he would call me up 
 again. . . . For me to be ready then, to meet 
 my Master and my — doom." 
 
CHAPTER THIRTEEN 
 "a srtBNT peisonbb" 
 
 LOEIS STOCKBRIDGE finished speaking 
 with a low sob which went straight to the 
 detective's heart. He advanced across 
 the room and ran his arm about her supple 
 waist. "We'll help her to the divan," he told 
 Nichols. "That's it! Eight over here and in. 
 the comer. She's all right. I'll tend to that 
 threat which came over the wires." 
 
 Drew backed away and turned toward the 
 telephone. He eyed it with cold calculation. 
 He took one step further, then wheeled and 
 glanced at Nichols. 
 
 "I want to trace that call if it is humanly 
 possible," he said with decision. "We can find 
 out, at least, from where it came. Suppose you 
 leave me here with Miss Stockbridge, and you 
 go down stairs and around to the drug-store?" 
 
 Loris rested her weight on one elbow. She 
 sat erect, with slowly widening eyes. Her hands 
 strayed to her hair and pressed it back from 
 her ears. She gained command of herself after 
 a shudder had passed through her slender body. 
 She half rose. 
 
 232 
 
"A SILENT PRISONEE" 223 
 
 "IVe heard that voice before!" she ex- 
 claimed, pointing toward the 'phone. "It was 
 familiar, Mr. Drew. Now where have I heard 
 it?" 
 
 "Some friend of your father's?" 
 
 "No, I don't think it was. But I've heard it 
 in this house." 
 
 "A servant— the valet?" 
 
 "No! No, Mr. Drew, it wasn't the valet's, 
 voice. It was whispering and consumptive. It 
 squeaked. It sounded lilie a little boy's voice." 
 
 "How about that trouble-man?" Drew ad- 
 vanced with keen steps. He felt that he wais 
 very dose to the truth. 
 
 "It might have been. Only — only, Mr. Drew, 
 it was younger — thinner — squeakier. It was a 
 , terrible voice. It rings and rings in my ears. 
 It was so sure!" 
 
 "Ump!" declared Drew with clenched fists. 
 "It won't be so sure," he said, squaring his 
 jaw. "It won't be near so sure, next time. I 
 think it was that trouble-man you heard. Don't 
 you remember anything he said when he was in 
 the house, for comparison?" 
 
 "I just heard him say — ^I heard him say that 
 the connections, I think he called them, were all 
 right. Then he went away, Mr. Drew." 
 
 "Did his voice squeak then?" 
 
 "It was rather low — ^like a boy's or a girl's. 
 He seemed too polite. He had his cap in his 
 
224 WHISPEEING WIEES 
 
 hand. ' ' Loris stopped speaking and stood erect. 
 She arranged her gown and glanced down, at 
 Nichols. "I feel stronger," she said bravely. 
 "I wonder what became t)f that tea?" 
 
 Drew stepped into the writing-room and 
 found the tea-pot upon its side. He poured 
 from this a cup of tea which he carried to Nich- 
 ols. "Just taste it," he ordered, "I want to 
 be sure it isn't doped or anything like that. 
 That's it. Just a small swallow. It's all right, 
 isn't it? It isn't bitter?" 
 
 Nichols handed the cup to Loris. " Drink it, ' * 
 he said with confidence. "That's good tea — 
 only a little cold." 
 
 Drew took the empty cup and set it down on 
 a small table. "You'll go for me?" he asked 
 Nichols. "I want it traced without using the 
 wires of this house. They might be tapped." 
 
 "Be back in ten minutes!" said the captain 
 at the tapestries, after Loris had nodded. 
 "Whom shall I ask for at Gramercy Hill?" 
 
 * ' The superintendent — ^Jack Nef e ! If he isn 't 
 there, get the chief operator. Delaney will at- 
 tend to that. Find out from what number the 
 call came. We might get that whispering devil 
 right away." 
 
 "I believe it was the trouble-man," said Lo- 
 ris, as Drew returned after locking the door to 
 the hallway. "Now that I think of it—I'm al- 
 
"A SILENT PEISONEB" 225 
 
 most sure it was. He just tried to diange and 
 lower his voice — ^that was all." 
 
 "Lower it?" 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Drew. It was so faint that I hardly 
 heard it at first. He seemed afraid of some- 
 thing. Perhaps somebody was in the room 
 where he was telephoning." 
 
 * * That might have been. WeU — ^he can't hurt 
 or harm you that way. The thing is for you to 
 keep up your courage. Fear is a terrible thing 
 if you would let yourself be mastered by it. It 
 might be their game to break you down by a 
 series of threats." 
 
 "I won't do that. I've Harry and you to 
 stand by me!" 
 
 Drew pulled out his wateh. "It's getting to- 
 ward midnight," he said. "No word yet from 
 Delaney or any of the others on watch. I think 
 that ttie storm will clear soon. You can go to 
 bed. Harry — Mr. Nichols and I'U get a deck 
 of cards and keep watch out here. We'U do 
 sentry duty. He's used to that I" 
 
 Loris glided about the room. She stopped at 
 the cheval glass and arranged her hair with a 
 series of twists that formed a turban secured 
 by loops. She swished around and glanced 
 archly toward Drew. Their eyes met bravely. 
 Hers dropped under shading lashes. 
 
 "I'm all right," she whispered with a half 
 laugh. "I did look awful. It was the shock of 
 
226 WHISPEEING WIEES 
 
 hearing that terrihle man. How childish to call 
 me up and say what he did. He didn't mean 
 itl" 
 
 "Ah," said Drew, reaching in his pocket and 
 bringing out a key. "Ah, he did mean i1^ I 
 think. He has overreached himself by telephon- 
 ing. Gramercy HiU Exchange is on the alert. 
 There's Mr. Nichols with good news, at the 
 door. Now for his report." 
 
 The captain came in, bmshing snow from his 
 olive-drab uniform. He glanced at Loris as 
 he strode across the room and took her hand 
 with a firm grip. "Delaney," he said confi- 
 dentially, "was right at the booth. He was sit- 
 ting on a chair, propped up and talking with 
 the prescription clerk. He did the telephoning 
 to Gramercy Hill. I don't know who he got 
 there, but they already knew about the call." 
 
 Nichols turned toward Drew for confirma- 
 tion. 
 
 "That's right!" the detective exclaimed. 
 ' ' They should know ! The vice-president. West- 
 lake, has left orders to record all calls to this 
 house. Where was that whispering voice from, 
 Mr. Nichols?" 
 
 "From Forty-second Street and Broadway." 
 
 "Close !" exclaimed Drew, rubbing his hands.. 
 "The fellow took chances." 
 
 "It came from a slot-booth in a cigar store in 
 & big building. It only lasted two minutes. The 
 
"A SILENT PEISONEB" 227 
 
 operator at Gramerey Hill says the 6 .t Toiee 
 she heard, asking for Gramerey Hill -^64, was 
 harsh and loud. I don 't understand < flat. ' ' 
 
 "Harsh and loud,*' repeated D: ew, toying 
 with his watch chain, "That's o<d. Was it 
 the same man that Miss Stockbridg heard?" 
 
 "The operator don't know. Djlaney says 
 maybe there were two of them. One, who called 
 up, and one who talked to this room," Nich- 
 ols turned and nodded toward the silvtff-plated 
 telephone. " 
 
 * * Hardly possible, ' ' mused Drew. * * I think he 
 changed his voice after he got the connection. 
 He didn't want Miss Stockbridge to recognize 
 him." 
 
 Loris glanced at the two men. "What will 
 they do?" she asked ianxiously. "Will Mr. 
 Delaney and the other detectives catch him by 
 thatcaU?" 
 
 "Hardly," said Drew. "He was in and out 
 within three minutes. The bird has flown f rWB 
 there!" 
 
 "But where will he go?" 
 
 ' ' I don't know, Miss Stockbridge. I wish that 
 I did know. There are over a hundred thou- 
 sand telephones in New York he could use. It's 
 impossible to guess which one. The booths at 
 the Grand Central are covered by one of my 
 operatives. The telephone company is on the 
 alert for all calls to this house. All they can 
 
228 WHISPERING WIEES 
 
 do is to record them and tell us what happens 
 after it happens. "We are trying now to get this 
 whispering dog when he is compelled to wait 
 at a booth. If Morphy 'phones him from the 
 prison to-night we have him. The telephone 
 company is going to delay the call after getting 
 the number. It would look natural. Then, we 
 can strike at the booth or place where the call 
 is directed in time to catch the man Morphy is 
 telephoning to. Up to now, Morphy has not 
 'phoned or Delauey would have said something 
 about it." 
 
 "But can't you stop these calls?" asked Lo- 
 ris. 
 
 "Very easy. We could order the wires dis- 
 connected. But then we wouldn't catch our 
 man. He would be suspicious and wait for an- 
 other time." 
 
 ' ' The whole thing seems so strange, Mr. Drew. 
 We're locked in here. The house is so well 
 guarded. AU they can do is 'phone and yet we 
 — at least I am nervous. Why have I got that 
 strange feeling?" 
 
 ' ' From experience ! ' ' declared Drew. * * If we 
 knew how your poor father was killed there 
 wouldn't be cause for worry. We don't know. 
 It was so subtle that we are confronted with the 
 unknown in terrible form. You feel a shadow 
 and so do I. A reaching shadow about this 
 splendid house of yours. It isn't anything we 
 
"A SILENT PEISONEE" 229 
 
 can grasp and say, 'Corae here! You're under 
 arrest.' It's the uncanny mystery of the entire 
 case that holds us three on the ragged-edge. I 
 confess I have not been myself since last night. 
 The powers of darkness and Lucifdr, himself, 
 have nothing on the people we are fighting." 
 
 **How about running Morphy in the guard 
 house, or whatever they have up there?" asked 
 Nichols. "Why not lay the case before the 
 warden and have him put out of harm's way? 
 That's what they'd do in the Army!" 
 
 "We can't prove a single thing on him!" 
 declared Drew. "He used the 'phone — once or 
 twice. Perhaps he has permission from the 
 superintendent of state prisons to do so. He 
 has business interests which require his tele- 
 phoning, we'll say." 
 
 "Then we're just going to wait right here?" 
 asked Loris, stamping her slipper. ' ' Wait right 
 here and let them do their worst?" 
 
 "The city detectives would do the same thing 
 I'm doing," said Drew on the defensive. 
 "They'd trap their men. Do you want'to see 
 the man or men who slayed your father, escape? 
 He will, or they will, unless we give them enough 
 rope to hang themselves." 
 
 "Or wire!" said Nichols cheerfully. "No, 
 Loris, Mr. Drew is right. He 's don© everything. 
 All we have got to do, is wait. Let's sit down 
 
2S0 WHISPEEING WIRES 
 
 for a little while. Delaney said he might have 
 word soon." 
 
 Drew waited until Loris had pressed herseJf 
 into a small compass at the back of the divan, 
 with Harry Nichols leaning over her in a shield- 
 ing position which was thoughtful and at the 
 same time affectionate. He strode toward the 
 writing room and parted the heavy, silk porti- 
 eres. He studied every detail. He dropped 
 the portieres and crossed the sitting room to 
 the doorway leading into Loris' chamber. This, 
 too, he searched with his eyes. Backing to the 
 center of the room he dropped his chin in 
 thought. A sound outside the mansion caused 
 him to turn and hurry to a window. He brushed 
 the curtain aside and tried to peer out. He 
 rubbed the frosted glass vigorously. His nose 
 pressed to a white button as he searched the 
 side street, A taxi had come to a grinding halt 
 directly below the window. Its wheels spun 
 upon the slippery surface. A man leaned out 
 of an open doorway and urged the driver on 
 with a brandished fist of ham-like proportions. 
 The driver backed into the snow, dropped into 
 first speed and stepped on his throttle. The 
 tasi leaped forward, gripped the surface, and 
 plowed toward Fifth Avenue in a welter of 
 flying ice and flakes. 
 
 Drew sprang back and faced Loris and Nich- 
 ols who had risen and were standing together 
 
"A SILENT PEISONEE" 231 
 
 in the glow from the cluster over their heads. 
 
 "Wliat happened?" they asked in unison. 
 "What was outside?" 
 
 "Delaneyl" snapped Drew, dragging out his 
 
 :watch and glancing at it. * * Delaney 's got word 
 
 ' where to find his man. He's on the trail at 
 
 last! It's twelve-two. We ought to have that 
 
 fellow iu a half hour." 
 
 "The trouble-man?" asked Loris, with rising 
 hopes. "Do you think it is the trouble-man, Mr. 
 Drew?" 
 
 "Nine chances in ten, it is ! I'm venturing a 
 guess it is. If we get him — ^if Delaney gets 
 him — She'll know it. Delaney used to work un- 
 der the old-time police chiefs. They showed 
 scant consideration." 
 
 "But, he won't hurt him!" said Loris, with 
 a tremulous exclamation. 
 
 "That murderer! Why, Miss Stoekbridge, 
 isn't he plotting to slay you? Didn't he kill 
 your father ? I wish I were in Delaney 's place. ' ' 
 
 "Me too!" declared Nichols, drawing closer 
 to the detective. "Say, Inspector, I want to 
 congratulate you. I do." 
 
 ' * Wait, Harry. Just wait ! You two sit down 
 and be quiet. This affair is a personal one with 
 me. I don't doubt that Morphy or perhaps 
 some one else in state prison 'phoned to the 
 same party who phoned Miss Loris. That was 
 all we needed. Delaney jumped into a taxi 
 
232 WHISPEKING WIRES 
 
 and hurried downtown as fast as the storm per- 
 mitted. Perhaps the call came from the same 
 booth. I don't think so, though." 
 
 "The one at Forty-second Street and Broad- 
 way?" 
 
 "I don't think so, Nichols. This fellow seems 
 to pick a new one every time. He's very crafty. 
 That alone shows a criminal mind." 
 
 Drew paced the floor with soft gliding. He 
 turned at the portieres and crossed to the tapes- 
 tries. He returned and stood before Loris and 
 Nichols. 
 
 "Captain," he said, "we can now begin to 
 reconstruct this case. We can get some of the 
 dead-wood from our minds. It is apparent to 
 me that one of Mr. Stookbridge's sworn enemies 
 — Morphy, for instance — confined in state's 
 prison, set about to slay both members of the 
 family. He secured a confederate whom he 
 knew. This confederate has never been arrest- 
 ed in the state. We have that from the finger 
 prints in the booth at Grand Central. We will 
 presume that this confederate is the trouble- 
 man. He is probably an expert electrician. He 
 either tapped in on the wires the night Mr. 
 Stockbridge was murdered or got behind tlie 
 switchboard and called up the library 'phone." 
 
 "The switchboard?" asked Loris. "You 
 mean the big place where the girls are?" 
 
 "Not exactly there. The wires run down and 
 
"A SILENT PEISONEE" 233 
 
 are tagged. It would be possible for him to cut 
 in somewhere between the switchboard and the 
 conduits. Now I don't know how it was done. 
 There's several ways. But wherever he tapped 
 in, he must have used a magneto to ring Mr. 
 Stockbridge up, and afterwards a battery-set to 
 do the^ talking. All this Westlake says it would 
 be necessary to do, so that the operator would 
 not notice a permanent signal on the board." 
 
 ""What was his object?" asked Nichols. 
 
 ' * To cover himself. He first disconnected the 
 wires and waited till I sent for a trouble-man. 
 Frosby, or Frisby, was sent. The trouble-man 
 took his place. He came here and looked the 
 place over. He lied to Mr. Stockbridge and I 
 when he told us about that taU German in the 
 alley. If there was such a man there before 
 the snow froze we would have his footprints." 
 
 "Tou haven't them?" asked Loris. 
 
 "No. Delaney has a set made by this trouble- 
 hunter when he was at the junction-box. This 
 must have been the time he either cut the con- 
 nections so that I would send for him, or it was 
 the time when he called up and threatened Mr. 
 Stockbridge with death within twelve hours. 
 You remember that the telephone company have 
 no record of the call. Now the next call " 
 
 "Was there another?" the girl asked. 
 
 "Yes— to your father at or about the moment 
 he died. That was from the Grand Central Sta- 
 
234 "WHISPEEING WIEES 
 
 tion at Porty-seoond Street. There's a good 
 record of that. Tour father knocked the tele- 
 ' phone down when he dropped dead. The oper- 
 ator noticed that the connection was open and 
 put on the howler. The record is clear on that. ' ' 
 
 "But what is all this twisting and turning 
 for?" 
 
 "To throw us off, Miss Stockbridge. We're 
 dealing with a crafty, cunning mind. This mind 
 took the extreme precaution of connecting two 
 booths at Grand Central so that a man in Sing 
 Sing could talk to your father without leaving a 
 record at the "Westchester Exchange or at Gram- 
 eroy Hill Exchange. How this was done I don't 
 know. It could be done with auxiliary batteries 
 and looping so that the Gramercy Hill operator 
 thought the Westchester call was to a slot booth, 
 while another caU from the next booth to this 
 house was really the same connection shunted 
 or looped through. Westlake, vice-president of 
 the telephone company, says that there would 
 be several ways of doing this. He added it 
 would take an expert in telephony." 
 
 "I'm all twisted up, Mr. Drew. I suppose 
 you understand it. But what about that call 
 to-night — ^the one that frightened me?" 
 
 "The man was sure of himseH!" said Drew 
 without thinking. "He has his plans made. He 
 figures they will not fail I" 
 
 "Oh, you mean—" 
 
"A SILENT PEISONEE" 235 
 
 "I mean, Miss Stockbridge, that he expects to 
 slay you in the same manner your father was 
 slain. We have this advantage. You are not 
 alone in this room or these rooms. Your father 
 was alone. The murderer will have Mr. Nichols 
 and myself to deal with this time! Be calm." 
 
 "But — ^I don't see how he eotjild — get in 
 here?" 
 
 "Nor do I. The point is that he got into the 
 library and out again without trace. He had an 
 hour to do his work in. Here, he is running 
 every risk." 
 
 "But he has already been here, Mr. Drew." 
 
 The detective glanced keenly at Nichols, who 
 had shot the statement straight through clean 
 white teeth. 
 
 "I know it," Drew said with a trace of anxi- 
 ety in his voice. "That is disquieting. But 
 we have searched these rooms and found abso- 
 lutely no trace of tampering with locks or ven- 
 tilators or window-catches." i 
 
 "Could he climb up here? He might have 
 climbing irons," added Nichols glancing to- 
 ward the windows. 
 
 "A good porch-climber could do it," Drew 
 mused, with his eyes sweeping the curtains. 
 "A very good one could. There are only three 
 or four good ones out of prisons. They never 
 go in for murder." 
 
 "Wouldn't money buy themf" asked Loris. 
 
236 WHI8PEEING WIRES 
 
 "Mr. Morpliy may have retained one — ^with 
 some of the gold he stole from poor father." 
 
 "Eetained," repeated Drew, turning with 
 sudden intentness. "Retained, is hardly the 
 word, Miss Loris. Hired, is more to the point. 
 Hired assassins are not uncommon. We have 
 the Becker case and the Hope murder. We 
 have " 
 
 Drew allowed his voice to trail to a whisper. 
 "We have," he declared, "our man! There's 
 the front door belli It's Delaney!" 
 
 'You have splendid ears, Mr. Drew." 
 
 "I have to have, Miss Stockbridge. Now," 
 he added sharply, "you and Mr. Nichols go into 
 the library — ^the writing room. I think the case 
 is closing. There may be a little excitement if 
 Delaney 's got that fellow. I^ for one, am not 
 going to stand much from him. Please go into 
 the other room. That's right. Stand there, 
 Harry, in case we need a soldier!" 
 
 Drew advanced step by step toward the tap- 
 estries. He lifted his gun from his hip pocket, 
 examined it with narrowed eyes, then replaced 
 it loosely. He brushed the curtains aside and 
 had the key out, as heavy steps shook the upper 
 stairway and a knock sounded on the panels of 
 the door. 
 
 "Who's there?" asked Drew. 
 
 "Delaney, Chief 1" 
 
 "AU right 1 Just a moment." 
 
"A SILENT PEISONEE" 237 
 
 The detectiye glanced througli the slit in the 
 tapestries, saw that Mchols and Loris were 
 across the room, then twisted the butterfly- 
 latch, at the same time he thrust in the flat key 
 and turned the lock. 
 
 The door swung open. Delaney's huge bulk 
 blocked the way. He half turned, cursed sav- 
 agely, and clutched a pipe-stem neck with rude 
 fingers. ' ' Come along, you ! " he boomed. * ' Get 
 in there!" 
 
 The form of a man hurtled by Drew, fell and 
 rose, then fell again beyond the tapestries in 
 the center of the sitting room. Drew, like some 
 lithe cat, was over him. with a drawn gun. De- 
 laney puffed across the rugs and tried to speak 
 as the detective leaned and studied the chalk- 
 pale face below shielding cuffed hands which 
 were raised impotently. 
 
 "The trouble-man!" exclaimed Loris fear- 
 somely. 
 
 A Central Office detective slouched through 
 the door, deposited a kit of lineman's tools on 
 the floor near the tapestriesi, then retired dis- 
 creetly. 
 
 "It's him!" said Drew. "Please get back, 
 Miss Stockbridge. We're going to fix this fel- 
 low." 
 
 "Oh, please don't strike him." 
 
 "Please— Miss Stockbridge. I'll promise 
 
288 WHISPEEING WIEE8 
 
 nothing in this connection. This is the man 
 who foully murdered your father." 
 
 Loris shrank back and against Nichols' ex- 
 tended arm. Drew glanced at her with swift 
 concern. He dropi)€d his eyes to the man at his 
 feet. "What happened?" he asked Delaney, 
 "Has this fellow said anything? Done any 
 talking?" 
 
 Delaney glared at the trouble-man. "Never 
 a word has he said, Chief. He's a clam. 
 But " 
 
 "What's that? Go on, Delaney!" 
 
 "Why, Chief, I wouldn't have brought him 
 here if he hadn't said to Morphy over the 'phone 
 tiiat 'it' was fixed in her room. Now what does 
 he mean by that 'iff" 
 
 "We'll find out!" declared Drew, dropping 
 to the prisoner's side. 
 
CHAPTER FOURTEEN 
 
 "the PEisoiirEs speaks" 
 
 THE detective wasted no time searcliing the 
 trouble-hunter's pockets. His skilled fin- 
 gers drew forth two envelopes, a note 
 book and a small roU of money, the least of 
 which was ten-doUar bills and the greatest, on 
 the inside, spread out to three staring noughts 
 and a one in front of these. 
 
 "One thousand and sixty dollars!" said 
 Drew dryly, handing the roll to Delaney. "This 
 fellow's weU heeled. Perhaps for a get-a-way. 
 Take that. Now here ' ' 
 
 Drew tapped the envelopes with his fingers, 
 spread them open and removed their sheets of 
 closely-written paper. 
 
 "First letter," he announced with raising 
 brows, "is from Standard Electrical Co., of 
 Chicago, recommending Albert Jones as a capa^- 
 ble electrician. I don't doubt it. He's capable 
 of most anything." 
 
 Delaney took the letter and waited with his 
 eyes fastened upon the silent figure who had not 
 revealed his identity from the time of the ar- 
 rest. 
 
 230 
 
240 .WKESPEEINa WIEES 
 
 "Second letter," continued Drew, "is ad- 
 dressed to Albert Jones, General Delivery, New 
 York Post Office. It is from Ossining. It is 
 signed Mortimer Morphy. How careless," said 
 the detective, rising in his excitement. "How 
 very careless ! It goes on to say that everything 
 is all right. That the appeal is pending with 
 the governor. That uncle Monty was expected 
 to die and that aunt Lou was very low." 
 
 Drew paused and glanced toward Loris and 
 Nichols. "You know what that means?" he 
 asked. "Uncle Monty was Mr. Montgomery 
 Stockbridge and aunt Lou would figure out for 
 you. Miss Stookbridge. Keep this, Delaney. 
 We're going to convict this man right here — 
 whether he talks or not. This letter was writ- 
 ten to him two months ago. It shows premedi- 
 tation." 
 
 "He looks iU," said Loris. "His face is so 
 white." 
 
 "Dope!" snapped Drew, pressing down the 
 prisoner's right eye-lid and glancing at the pu- 
 pU. "A narcotic of some kind shows in the 
 small iris. It's like a pii}. head. Yen she, eh, 
 Delaney!" 
 
 "Guess it is, Chief. Frisk his cap arid belt. 
 They carry it there, sometimes." 
 
 Drew started at the prisoner's hair and went 
 over his entire body with careful fingers. A 
 bulge, at the waist, resolved itself iuto a cham- 
 
"THE PEISONER SPEAKS" 241 
 
 ois money-belt which contained five cartridges, 
 a small handful of electric fuses and a spool of 
 fine wire. 
 
 Drew eyed this last with furrowed brow. He 
 pocketed it finally and studied the cartridges. 
 
 "Twenty-two, cupronickle, center-fire," he 
 announced with a hard smUe. "That forges 
 another chain. We're getting there. He was 
 loaded for something, Delaney." 
 
 "Sure and he was. Look at those handcuffs. 
 Chief. I made them tight as I could," 
 
 Drew handed up the cartridges and fuses and 
 rattled the cuffs. The prisoner protested by 
 turning partly over. His eye-lids fluttered and 
 opened full upon Loris. She shrank back be- 
 tween the curtains. Her hands went up to her 
 face in voiceless fear. "Please keep away," 
 said Drew. "This man is always dangerous. 
 I want to trim his claws before I take any 
 chances with him. Delaney, ' ' he added, * ' get my 
 overcoat and bring me those plaster-casts. This 
 case grows interesting. I wonder who the fel- 
 low is? 'Albert Jones' doesn't convey much. He 
 is a friend and tool of Morphy. Poor Morphy I 
 I wonder what he'U say when the governor gets 
 this evidence? He's buried now for twenty long 
 years of penal service. He picked a good tool, 
 though. A smart manl" 
 
 The prisoner did not brighten to any extent 
 under the professional flattery. His eyes dosed. 
 
242 WHISPERING WIBB8 
 
 The ctiffed wrists dropped down upon his chest 
 He breathed slowly as Drew took the overcoat 
 Delaney brought, and found the photos of the 
 finger prints which Fosdick and the expert at 
 headquarters had both declared were not on 
 record. 
 
 "A little ink," Drew said to the operative. 
 "We'll smear this fellow's thumb and see if his 
 print answers to the print I found in the booth 
 at Grand Central. I'll venture that it does." 
 
 Nichols extended a fountain pen which the 
 detective opened, sponged on the comer of a 
 handkerchief, and returned with a chuckle of 
 satisfaction. 
 
 "Ah," he said, gripping the prisoner's hand 
 and smearing a thumb with a rolling motion 
 across the back of the print. "Ah, Delaney, 
 see here. The same whorls and loops. The 
 same tiny V-shaped scar. One, two, three — cen- 
 ter right. This is the man. We have him deep- 
 er in toward the place with the little, green door. 
 He knows what I mean!" 
 
 The prisoner's lips closed to a thin, hard line. 
 A tiny spot of hectic fire burned in the center 
 of each cheek as Drew completed the searching 
 and rose. 
 
 "Foot-prints, now!" he said with a snappy 
 order. "Compare those plaster casts you took 
 at the junction-box back of this house. Are 
 they the same? There's a series of four screw 
 
"THE PRISONEE SPEAKS" 243 
 
 holes in his ruhber-heels, Delaney, Do they 
 compare with the casts. Measure them I" 
 
 "Sure and they do," said the big operative, 
 rising and pointing to the sm^U projections- 
 "This lad, Chief, was the only one around that 
 junction-box till after tihie snow froze and drift- 
 ed over. That's my idea, Chief. It caught him, 
 didn't it, Chief?" 
 
 "Every little helps to forge the chain," Drew 
 said. "He's in bad now. His only chance is 
 to tell us what he knows about Morphyf "What 
 was said over the telephone wire? "What did 
 Friok say?" 
 
 " It was this way. Chief, ' ' Delaney said. " I 'm 
 waiting talking with the drug-clerk when there's 
 a ring on the slot-booth 'phone. It's Jack Nefe 
 at Gramercy Hill. He says to me that Friok 
 had just 'phoned and said that Morphy had 
 come out of the guard room, looked around, 
 then, after chinning with a keeper at the front 
 gate, he had started going over a telephone book 
 for a number. Nefe said for me to hold the 
 wire. Then I gets a number. Chief. It's 
 Gramercy Hill 11,678. Nefe said that was a 
 booth in the new Broadway Subway at Forty- 
 first Street. I piles into a cab and arrives there 
 just as this fellow had finished boring a hole be- 
 tween the two booths — 11,678 and 11,679. I 
 waits behind a slot-machine. Some one rang 
 up when he coupled the wires, listens, then asks 
 
244 WHISPERING WIRES 
 
 Gramerey HiU central for this 'phone here in 
 Miss Stockbridge's room. You see the game, 
 Chief?" 
 
 "Go on!" said Drew. "Be very clear!" 
 
 "This fellow was connecting Morphy at state 
 prison with this house through the tWo slot 
 booths. I sneaked up and waited for him to 
 finish. He's busy with a pair of pliers. I falls 
 on him like a ton of bricks. Then after I get 
 the cuffs on, I listens in. It's Morphy roaring 
 there, with that big btdl voice of his. He's mad 
 'cause he gets no answer. He shouts over and 
 over, Chief — 'Bert! Bert! Bert! Is it planted 
 in her room? Her room. Is it there!' " De- 
 laney paused and stared about the sitting room. 
 
 ' ' What does he mean, Chief ? " he asked husk- 
 ily. "What is that 'it'?" 
 
 " Go on ! " said Drew tersely. 
 
 "I got Morphy off the wire. Chief. I got 
 Frick and then Friek got the warden. He's a 
 good fellow. He listened to me, then he calls 
 some guards and they drag Morphy through the 
 prison and down to the coolers. I guess they're 
 down in the ground, somewhere. Aajw&j, 
 Chief, he's gone for good — ^unless they send him 
 to the chair for his part in the murder of Stock- 
 bridge." 
 
 "He'll go! What I want to know now, De- 
 laney, is this fellow's right name. Morphy said 
 ^Bert,' eh!" 
 
"THE PEISONER SPEAKS" 245 
 
 ' * Sure he did, Chief. ' Bert I Bert ! Bert ! ' 
 That's close to Albert. Albert Jones, like's in 
 the letter." 
 
 " No ! That would be a throw-off. He 's some 
 other kind of a Bert. Let me see his cap." 
 
 Delaney picked the prisoner's cap from the 
 rug and passed it over to Drew. The detective 
 examined it, ripped the silk, and looked under 
 the lining. He straightened and handed it i6 
 Harry Nichols. 
 
 "Can you mak:e that name out?" he asked. 
 "Tour eyes are younger than mine. Perhaps 
 Miss Stockbridge can read it. It's Spanish, I 
 think. 'Gusta' or 'Casta.* The rest is obliter- 
 ated with grease." 
 
 "Antofogasta!" declared Loris suddenly. 
 "It's Antofagasta, Chile." 
 
 "Fetch the lineman's kit, the Central Office 
 man brought," said Drew to the operative. 
 "Put it right here by this fellow's side. I — 
 we are getting close to the truth in this case." 
 
 Delaney hurried back with the satchel. It was 
 the same one that Drew had seen in the library 
 on the evening Stockbridge was murdered. It 
 had excited no suspicion then. 
 
 "A magneto," said the detective. "First 
 comes a ringing magneto which has seen much 
 service. Put that over there, Delaney. Spread 
 a paper or something. Ah," Drew added, 
 "here's a set of small dry batteries arranged 
 
246 WHISPERING WIRES 
 
 in series. Three or four of them. I don't 
 know just what they're for, but Bert does." 
 
 The prisoner's pale eyes blinked and were 
 closed again as the lids compressed in wrinkled 
 determination. He moved slightly when Drew 
 pressed a knee against his chest. He coughed 
 with dry catching deep down in his throat. The 
 detective felt of his pulse. It was faiat but 
 steady — ^like a tired sleeper's. 
 
 "He's coming out of it," Drew said. "He'll 
 talk after awhile. Let's see, what is this?" 
 
 Delaney leaned over the satchel. "Another 
 link," said Drew, drawing out a telephone re- 
 ceiver without wires attached to it. "And 
 here," he added, "is the testing set with the 
 sharp clamps. That's for listening in or talking 
 with other people's connections. I don't doubt 
 that this fellow knows his business. Here's a 
 micro-volt meter that registers fractions of 
 volts. Here's an am-meter of the pocket size. 
 I've seen this kind on automobiles for testing 
 dry-cells. Now, what is this ? ' ' 
 
 "Looks like a full set of jimmies!" blurted 
 Delaney. "That's a sectional jimmy!" 
 
 "He's got everything," said the detective, 
 turning and glancing at Loris. "Here, Miss 
 Stockbridge," he said, holding up an empty 
 cartridge shell. "Here is the most important 
 link in the chain against him. It's a twenty-two 
 shell which has been fired. See— wait — what's 
 
"THE PEISONEE SPEAKS" 247 
 
 this, Delaney? The cap on the end hasn't been 
 struck. The cartridge was discharged — ^the cap 
 is intact. How could that be?" 
 
 Lords and Harry Nichols leaned over the de- 
 tective. He turned the tiny shell around in his 
 fingers. He sniffed it. He held it out so they 
 could see the end. ' ' Discharged, ' ' he exclaimed, 
 "without touching the detonating cap on the 
 end! That's odd! Very suggestive!" 
 
 "Let me see it," said Nichols. "I'll tell. 
 We have exams on these things. This seems to 
 have been fired," he continued with thought. 
 "It's been fired without concussion. I'd say it 
 was heat that did it. A match touched to the 
 base here would fire the cap, which would, in 
 turn, set off the powder. There's a different 
 color to the brass at the cap end. It looks to 
 me like a shell which has been clamped down 
 by three — ^no, four screws. There's marks on 
 the rim. See them, Loris — Miss Stockbridge? 
 Eight there. Eight at my nail." 
 
 "That's about right, Harry!" declared Drew, 
 reaching for the cartridge. "It was clamped 
 down with small screws. It was ignited or set 
 off by heat. It forms part of a home-made pis- 
 tol which conforms, to a hair, with Fosdick's 
 statement that the bullet never went ttirough a 
 barrel that was rifled." 
 
 "That's your own statement!" blurted De- 
 laney. "Fosdit^ BieTer had brains enough to 
 
248 WHISPEEING WIRES 
 
 figure a thing out like that. All he knows is 
 pinch everybody two or three times. I've seen 
 him do it." 
 
 Drew eyed the prisoner. "So you see," he 
 said softly, cuttingly, "crime does not pay. 
 The net has closed over your head. You erred 
 a score of times. You couldn't afford to make 
 one little mistake. I could — ^I did I I've mad© 
 a hundred in this case already! It's the hound 
 and the hare. The hound loses the scent and 
 brays on blunderingly till he picks it up again. 
 You lost me time and again. You fooled me 
 in that lineman's guise when you came into 
 the library. Your make-up was perfect. You 
 said just the right things." 
 
 The prisoner's lips curled in a thin cruel line. 
 He rattled the cuffs defiantly. His shoulders 
 lifted then fell back upon the rug. 
 
 • ' Bert ! " snapped Drew. * * Bert ! " he repeat- 
 ed with awakening thought. "Delaney," he 
 said, turning and glancing up at the operative's 
 broad, flushed face. "I got this fellow located. 
 What was the name of the man we tried to find 
 in the Morphy failure ? The one we had a bench- 
 warrant for? He was indicted. The indictment 
 was sealed. You know 1 It's a name you didn't 
 like. The fellow who escaped to Eio or South 
 America? Who afterwards went to Antofogas- 
 ta. Ah, Cuthbertl" 
 
 "That's it, Chiefl OutbertJ Cntbert Mop- 
 
"THE PEISONER SPEAKS" 249 
 
 phy — ^the old devil's brother. This is him I" 
 
 Drew rubbed his hands vigorously. "It is I" 
 he exclaimed, with his eyes swinging over the 
 prisoner's drawn features. "Outhbert Mor- 
 phy — a brother's tool and confederate. We're 
 getting onl" 
 
 The detective rose and faced Loris and Nich- 
 ols. * ' Captain, ' ' he said, * * a firing squad at sun- 
 rise would be the Army's answer to this man's 
 deviltry. Consider what he has done. He's 
 worked back to New York after a year as a 
 fugitive. He connected in some manner with 
 Morphy at Sing Sing. Perhaps he went there 
 as a visitor under the pretext of business con- 
 nected witii Morphy 's affairs. This §cheme was 
 hatched there in the prison. It was financed by 
 Morphy. It succeeded in so far as Mr. Stock- 
 bridge was concerned. First the telephone call 
 to the cemetery superintendent. Then followed 
 his visit to this house for the purpose of fixing 
 some fiendish device. Or " 
 
 "He might have fixed the windows. Chief," 
 suggested Delaney. "He might have opened a 
 catch and climbed in afterwards." 
 
 "He wasn't near the windows," said Drew. 
 "He had something else in the back of his 
 crafty, twisted brain. He came and went out, 
 with Mr. Stockbridge and I watching him. He 
 ealled up, then, and threatened the death. He 
 probably looi)ed the library 'phone up with Sing 
 
250 :WHISPEEING- WIEES 
 
 Sing at or about Tnidnight. We have a record 
 of both calls." 
 
 "Why," asked Loris, as Drew paused in 
 thought. "Why did he have Morphy con- 
 nected with father? I can't see, Mr. Drew, that 
 part of it. The rest, you have told is, is very 
 clear." 
 
 "Nor I yet," admitted the detective. "But 
 that is a detail. It is probably the criminal's 
 ego, which is in every one of them, to notify 
 their prey that the hour has come. Morphy was 
 an artist in crime. He was a master mind in 
 finance and chicaaery, What better revenge 
 oould he think of than to notify Mr. Stockbridge 
 that death was about to strike? It savors of 
 Maohiavelli and Borgia. Whom the gods de- 
 stroy they first make mad. He tried it on you." 
 
 " Gods ! " blurted Delaney with ire. ' * Devils, 
 you mean, Chief!" 
 
 "Yes, or worse!" said Drew, glancing stern- 
 ly at the prisoner. "This fellow," he added, 
 "is the agent for tiie destroyer. Now how was 
 it done?" 
 
 Delaney glanced about the walls of the room 
 
 in apprehension. "I'U take another look 
 
 "around," he suggested heavily. "Maybe with 
 
 them new ideas we can locate something that 
 
 might be planted for the killing." 
 
 Drew glanced sharply at the prisoner's face. 
 A faint sneer was on the thin lips. The wrists 
 
"THE PEISONEE SPEAKS" 2^ 
 
 twisted and turned in the handcuffs. The steel 
 chain rattled metallically. Loris backed step af- 
 ter step toward the shielding curtain and Harry 
 Nichols. "Oh!" she said suddenly, as sh© 
 dropped her head against his breast. ' ' Oh, Har- 
 ry ! there can't be anything like that." 
 
 "Certainly not !" Drew hastened to ejaculate. 
 * ' That 's nonsense. If there was anything plant- 
 ed in either of these three rooms, there's no 
 one to get in and operate it. I've searched 1 
 Mr. Delaney has searched. Do you want us to 
 search again?" Drew's lips were drawn with 
 doubt as he stared anxiously from Loris to 
 Nichols. "I'U do it, captain, if you say so. I 
 think we've done enough work, however. The 
 thing is to get this fellow to talk. I don't want 
 to give him over to Fosdick and the third de- 
 gree till we see if he is going to treat us right. ' 
 He can turn state's evidence on Morphy, who 
 blundered. Then he'U get off lightly. Morphy 
 is the master mind." 
 
 "He only smiles," said Nichols, tapping his 
 breast suggestively. "I've a gun here and I've 
 a mind to use it. Do you think I want Miss 
 Stockbridge murdered like her father was mur- 
 dered? I 'U shoot that cur! He's a whispering 
 snake! A Hun!" 
 
 "Don't!" sobbed Loris, as Nichols thrust his 
 ifaand in his coat and drew out a flat automatic 
 
^2 WHISPEEINa WIRES 
 
 of .44 caliber. "Don't, Harry 1 Perhaps this 
 man is innocent." 
 
 "Innocent!" declared Nichols. "Why, Lo- 
 ris^-why, Miss Stockbridge, you don't think 
 that, after all the things Mr. Drew has discov- 
 ered. I'll wager my commission he's guilty as 
 Hell, and I mean it, Loris." 
 
 " He 's that I ' ' Delaney declared. * * He and his 
 brother the devil are one in sin. They're lost 
 spirits." 
 
 "Now everybody," said Drew, gathering in 
 the group with his eyes, which were strangely 
 bright. * ' Everybody keep very quiet for a min- 
 ute. Let me think." 
 
 ' ' Sure and I will, Chief. I'm thinking I want 
 to think, myself." 
 
 Drew frowned at Delaney. He dropped Ms 
 eyes and studied the prisoner's hands. They 
 were strangely white and remarkably small for 
 a man who had labored at telephone-repairing. 
 The detective's glance rested on the ink-stained 
 thumb. His mind swung with this thought to 
 the foot-prints. Following the train he arrived 
 at the first conclusion that an expert in teleph- 
 ony could devise most any kind of a practical 
 method for opening a window or a ventilator. 
 He dismissed this theory with a glance about 
 the room. The ventilator was well-hidden and 
 inaccessible to any one without a step-ladder. 
 Considerable time devoted in dimbing upon a 
 
"THE PEISQNEB SPEAKS' 253 
 
 chair and a case of jade ornaments miglit reach 
 it, but the trouhle-maa had not been alone in 
 the room when he inspected the telephone. 
 
 Drew went over the salient details of the 
 Stockbridge tragedy. One fact stood out. The 
 windows had been well locked. The sashes were 
 covered with snow. A climber, even on the face 
 of the house, would have difficulty in springing 
 a catch by a secret method, raising the window 
 and entering without leaving a track of some 
 kind. He dismissed this supposition as unten- 
 able. He turned to Delaney, fuUy puzzled. 
 
 "Was there a climber's set in that bag!" he 
 asked sharply. 
 
 "I didn't see any. Chief. I don't think this 
 fellow's a climber. He ain't built like one. His 
 shoes are smooth on the bottom and his hands 
 are aU polished up around the nails. Looks to 
 me, Chief, as if he might be able to pick most 
 any kind of a lock." 
 
 "The locks are out of the question!" snapped 
 Drew. "I examined them. They're not inline. 
 Has anybody here any suggestions?" 
 
 Drew stared at the prisoner's drawn, white 
 face as he asked this question. "He wasn't 
 long in this part of the house," said the cap- 
 tain. "The maid watched him. She thought 
 perhaps he might take something." 
 
 "Fosdick is to blame!" said Drew almost 
 losing his temper. * ' He should have given striet 
 
254 WHISPEEING WIEES 
 
 orders at tlie door not to let anybody in till 
 the case was settled. It's all mixed up now. 
 This man had ample opportunity to cover him- 
 self. A clever sneak could do most anything 
 under your eyes without you seeing him oper- 
 ate. I suppose the only thing to do is to turn 
 him over to Headquarters. He'll get hisl' 
 
 Loris frowned slightly at Drew's manner. 
 The detective did not act like his former self. 
 She watched him pace the floor between the pris- 
 oner and the tapestries. He came back with a 
 square set to his jaw and a hard glint in his 
 olive eyes which gleamed like steel behind vel- 
 vet. 
 
 "Stand him up 1" 
 
 Delaney stared at his chief. He opened his 
 mouth, then closed it firmly. "All right," he 
 said, reaching down. "I'll stand him up if you 
 let me give him an upper-cut. I don't like these 
 silent crooks. They're snaky, Chief." 
 
 "No unnecessary violence, gentlemen," sug- 
 gested Nichols as Loris laid her hand on his 
 arm. "I'd like to have him alone for a few 
 minutes — ^but outside. Go easy. Perhaps he'll 
 talk." 
 
 "It may be your life or this man's!" gritted 
 Drew, stepping up to the prisoner after a sharp 
 glance at Loris. "I pity him when Fosdick gets 
 hold of him. He'll talk then!" 
 
 The prisoner swayed with Delaney 's fingers 
 
"THE PEISONEE SPEAKS" 255 
 
 gripping his collar in a vice-strong clutch. His 
 white-pale face, his narrow-set eyes, his furtive 
 glance to left and right like a cornered rat, 
 brought Drew to mind of a man who was slowly 
 breaking down. He lowered his brows and 
 clutched the prisoner'^ elbow with strong fin- 
 gers that pressed deep through the coat sleeve. 
 
 "Out with it!" he demanded harshly. "It's 
 your last chance to save your miserable skin. 
 You're not going to get any mercy from the 
 Commissioner. You know what he'll do to 
 you!" 
 
 The prisoner twisted loose from Drew's 
 clutch. His eyes wavered as he stared at Loria 
 for a long second, then dropped to the floor. 
 They closed in painful thought. Suddenly he 
 blanched with passion. 
 
 "I've no use for you coppers!" he screamed 
 shrilliugly. "I hate the sight of you and your 
 kind. Let me go! Let me go!" 
 
 "Fine chance," whispered Delaney, tighten- 
 ing his grip on the prisoner's collar. "You 
 got a fine chance, you murderin', thievin', sec- 
 ond-story man ! I 'd paste you if the lady wasn 't 
 here! Sure I would, right between the eyes!" 
 
 "Easy," said Drew. "Leave him to me. 
 He's thinkiag the thing over. I don't mind 
 telling him that the magpie beat him. That 
 and the carelessness of Morphy in calling up 
 when he must have known that Frick was in the 
 
256 .WHISPERING WIRES 
 
 front office of tlie prison. It's always the way, 
 Bert. He travels the fastest, up or down, who 
 travels alone. It's the lone star that gives us 
 the trouble. There 's nobody to peach on him ! ' ' 
 
 The prisoner bit his upper lip. A slight 
 sign of blood showed. He tasted this with the 
 tip of his tongue. His eyes narrowed in cal- 
 culation. He turned and faced Drew; with slit- 
 lidded intentness. 
 
 "I haven't done a thing," he whispered. 
 "You ain't got a thrag on me." 
 
 "Oh, no !" blurted Drew with heat. "I ain't 
 got a thing. I've been asleep since the time 
 you murdered this girl's father. I've had ten 
 men on your trail since the begianing. I don't 
 hold the first murder so much against you as 
 I do the projected one — ^which missed fire by a 
 scant margin. You slayed a man with your 
 devilish ingenuity, but you're not going to put 
 it over on his daughter. I've seen to that! I 
 notice nobody has called up and said this was 
 the Master talking. There's a good reason." 
 
 The prisoner fluttered his pale lashes and 
 glanced at the telephone. He closed his eyes 
 with a smile shadowing his lips. 
 
 "There's a good reason," repeated Drew. 
 "You are not in some booth at Forty-first 
 Street to make the connection. Morphy is in 
 the strongest cooler. He's booked for twenty 
 
"THE PRISONEE SPEAKS" 257 
 
 years. After that he'll get more. He can't 
 help yon I" 
 
 "Oh, yoTi coppers," said the trouble-man. 
 "Just give me five minutes and I'd show you. 
 I don't hold anything against the girl. I never 
 saw her before." 
 
 "You lie!" 
 
 * * Why don 't you take these cuffs off-a-me ? I 
 can't hit back." 
 
 "I'd sooner take the chance outside," said 
 Drew, glancing at Loris. " I 'd do it there ! ' ' 
 
 Delaney tightened his grip and half held the 
 itrouble-hunter in the air. He raised on his toes 
 with the strain. 
 
 ' ' Oh, don 't ! " exclaimed Loris. "I'll have to 
 ask you to stop this. I can't let it occur ia my 
 house!" 
 
 "Miss Stockbridge," said Drew with soft re- 
 buke. "Miss Stockbridge, I've been in the de- 
 tective business for twenty years. I never saw 
 in that time a more dangerous man. He is the 
 super-type who usually falls through the errors 
 of other men. This feUow has brains. He's 
 an expert in telephony and in wireless. There 
 are a number of patents iu the patent office un- 
 der his name." 
 
 "Then he may be innocent, Mr. Drew." 
 
 "He's as guilty as the Kaiser!" exclaimed 
 Delaney, twisting the prisoner around. "Look 
 at him. He's been trying to murder the finest 
 
258 WHISPEEING- WIRES 
 
 little lady in the country. She never harmed 
 anybody. She's devoting most of her time to 
 Eed Cross work and the — ^Army," added the 
 big operative with a touch of brogue as he 
 glanced at Nichols. 
 
 "But he has not said that he murdered fa- 
 ther," said Loris. 
 
 * ' Sure an ' he won't say it. I know the breed 
 of this snake. He wants nothing used against 
 him in the trial. He'll have the evidence of us 
 four to show that he didn't say anything. I 
 never saw an innocent man who wouldn't talk 1 ' ' 
 
 "We're getting nowhere," objected Drew, 
 taking command of the situation. "Take him 
 out, Delaney, and turn him over to the Cen- 
 tral Office bunch. They'll take him down to 
 Fosdickl" 
 
 The prisoner lifted his manacled hands. He 
 dropped them after a slow glance at Drew's 
 square jaw. 
 
 "Come onl" said Delaney with a jerk back- 
 ward. 
 
 "Waitl" 
 
 Drew and Nichols leaned forward. "Well!" 
 asked the detective, as the prisoner bowed his 
 head. "Well? Well?" 
 
 "Is that true about my brother — Morphyl'* 
 
 "It is I" Drew said with ringing conviction. 
 "It's true I He's out of this world. He's 
 
"THE PEISONER SPEAKS" 259 
 
 buried alive and the key has been thrown 
 away." 
 
 "The jig is up, then," said the trouhle-man, 
 turning toward the telephone. "Let me tele- 
 phone," he said in a whisper. "I want to use 
 it," he repeated faintly. "I'll show you how 
 that — that Stoekbridgo died." 
 
CHAPTER FIFTEEN 
 
 THE prisoner lifted his manaded handa and 
 held them toward Drew. * * Let me loose, " 
 he said, "and I'll explain everything 
 that I Ve done ! I want it off my mind. I won't 
 sleep until you people are satisfied. I know 
 you — you copper 1 I know; Fosdidk — the third 
 degree artist." 
 
 Drew frowned as he glanced at the cuffs. He 
 scratched his dark hair and combed his fingers 
 back toward his ears. He turned and glanced 
 at Loris and Nichols in the opening between the 
 itwo splendid rooms, 
 
 "I don't like to take a chance with this fel- 
 low," he admitted. "Do you want me to, Miss 
 Stockbridge? It's your Ufe he was after, and 
 he may be shamming now. You never can trust 
 an opium addict. They have no soul." 
 
 "I've as much as a copper's 1" 
 ^-^'Shut up, you!" boomed Delaney, threaten- 
 ingly. "Shut up! There's a lady in this 
 room!" 
 
 The prisoner dieted his cuffs togetiier. He 
 
 260 
 
*'THE VOICE ON THE WIRE" 261 
 
 stared at the eheval glass and the telephone. 
 "A lady?" he repeated through the comer of 
 his lips. "A limb of the Stookbridge tree," he 
 said bitterly. "I hold nothing against her. I 
 told you that before. But we pronaised the old 
 man we'U take care of her after we killed him, 
 and she came near going — ^let me teU you that. 
 I could have killed her with twenty words." 
 
 "He's rambling," said Delaney, reaching for 
 the prisoner. "The dope has gone to his head. 
 I don't believe there's any " 
 
 "Easy, Delaney," warned Drew thoroughly 
 on the alert. "Don't make the mistake of un- 
 derestimating this fellow. He acts like a man 
 who has repented — ^who wants to right some of 
 the wrong he has done. I don't think we are 
 taking chances in letting this fellow loose. He 
 is unarmed. I tended to that. If he wants to 
 'phone — ^let's let him." 
 
 "Your case, Chief!" 
 
 Drew reached in his pocket and brought 
 around a police regulation revolver. "I'll have 
 this right here!" he snapped as he slowly 
 raised it. "You, Delaney, unlock one cuff and 
 pass it to me. I'U wrap the chain around my 
 left wrist. If this fellow tries anything I'll 
 tend to his case — forever. These .44 's are 
 made for stopping purposes, eh, Mr. Nichols?" 
 
 "They certainly are, Mr. Drew. I think we 
 
262 WHISPEEING WIRES 
 
 can handle that little man without trouble. 
 What does he want to telephone for?" 
 
 "What for, Bert?" asked Drew, swinging and 
 confronting the prisoner. "Do you want to 
 say good-by to somebody?" 
 
 "Good-by is right," whispered the trouble- 
 man, extending his hands toward Delaney, who 
 fished out a small key. "Yes, it's good-by to 
 somebody. Unlock them!" 
 
 "Hold on!" exclaimed Drew. "I don't like 
 that tone. "You'll have to act better than that, 
 Bert. What do you want to get loose for? 
 What number do you want? I'll call up." 
 
 "No, I got to do it. I want one hand free — > 
 that's all." 
 
 Loris stepped to Drew's side. "Can there 
 be anything about the room," she asked, "that 
 he wants to use? Perhaps he'll pick something 
 up and use it too quickly for you to stop him.'* 
 
 "I don't think so," said Drew grimly. "This 
 gun, Miss Stockbridge, happens to have a hair 
 trigger. We'll chance it — ^with your permis- 
 sion." 
 
 "I'm not afraid for myself — ^but don't you 
 think the poor fellow should be prevented from 
 harming himself. He acts just like a man who 
 wanted to do something terrible. He seems to 
 have given up hope." 
 
 ' ' A woman 's intuition, ' ' mused Drew. * ' Per- 
 haps a close one," he said aloud. "You get 
 
"THE VOICE ON THE WIEE" 263 
 
 back into the other room, Miss Stockbridge. 
 Let Mr. Nichols stand in front of you for pro- 
 tection. I'm going to grant this fellow's re- 
 quest. Delaney, unlock the left cuff!" 
 
 The key rattled in the tiny key-hole as Drew 
 poised his revolver and drew a sight between 
 the prisoner's fluttering eyelids. "Stand right 
 there," whispered the detective tersely. "Eight 
 there," he added, reaching with his left hand 
 and taking the cuff and chain from the opera- 
 tive. "Now, Bert, you're half free. What do 
 you want with the telephone?" 
 
 The prisoner pinched Ms wrist and worked 
 his hand like a hinge. A white mark, which 
 slowly changed to red, showed where Delaney 
 had clamped the handcuff down to its last notch. 
 The trouble-man eyed this mark. His lips 
 hardened. He strained on the chain as he lifted 
 his fingers to his brow with a tired gesture. 
 
 "Hurry!" said Drew. "Hurry, Bert, or 
 we'll cuff you up again. Do you want to tele- 
 phone?" 
 
 "Y — e — s!" The voice was tremulous and 
 dry. "Yes! I'll use it. I'll show you how 
 that pirate — Stoekbridge — was killed. The yel- 
 low squealer!" 
 
 Loris raised her chin proudly. She leaned 
 against Nichols in the doorway. "I won't stand 
 for that ! ' ' declared the soldier. "You are being 
 insulted in your own house 1" 
 
264 WHISPEEING WIRES 
 
 "Wait, Haxry! Sometiiing is going to hap- 
 penl IknowitisI" 
 
 "You're right, lady," wHspered the pris- 
 oner. "It's going to happen to — ^well, I don't 
 eare. I 'm done. The jig is np 1 " 
 
 Cuthbert Morphy shrugged his shoulders and 
 tamed toward Drew. He stared at the menac- 
 ing revolver with a cryptic smile. "Get your 
 man downstairs," he said, in hollow tones. 
 "Get him to go in the library and call up this 
 number. Tell Central to connect the two 'phones 
 in this house. Shout into the library transmit- 
 ter when the coimection is made." 
 
 Drew frowned. "What's all that fort" he 
 asked. 
 
 "Do as I say." 
 
 "I don't know about that. I give orders here. 
 What do you want that done for? I thought 
 you wanted a number on the 'phone. I thought 
 you would get somebody on the wire wlio would 
 explain everything." 
 
 "Everything wUl be explained. Inspector. 
 Everything! I told you the jig was up with 
 me. I mean it, too. There's nothing left but 
 the truth." 
 
 Drew wound the handcuff chain tighter about 
 his left wrist He braced his feet and turned 
 to Delaney. "Go downstairs," he said, "and 
 call up this number. Do what this fellow says. 
 The number is Grameroy Hill 9764." 
 
"THE VOICE ON THE WIBB" 265 
 
 V 
 
 Loris and Nichols lifted their brows as they 
 tamed toward each other. "I'm afraid," said 
 the girl. "Something is not right, Harry." 
 
 "It's the only way we'll ever &id out what 
 this man means. If they tate him away with- 
 out letting him talk over the '|phone we'll never 
 know. Leave things to Mr. Drew. He's armed! 
 I 'm armed ! There 's no danger ! ' ' 
 
 "Get downstairs to the library 1" Drew or- 
 dered. "Do what this man wants. Shout into 
 the transmitter. Go now!" 
 
 Delaney lunged through the tapestries and 
 unlocked the door to the hall. He paused there 
 in thought. He turned and glanced back. 
 
 " Hurry 1" exclaimed Drew. "Hurry now!** 
 
 The big operative cursed audibly as he de- 
 scended the two flights of carpeted steps. H© 
 nodded to the Central Office man at the library 
 door. He passed inside, rounded the table and 
 stood by the 'phone. He picked up the receiver. 
 His eyes wandered along the floor as he waited. 
 A dark spot showed on the hardwood. It was 
 where the millionaire's blood had gushed forth 
 from the bullet hole in the base of his brain. 
 
 "Gramercy Hill 9-7-6-4!" said Delaney with 
 a bull's voice. 
 
 "B-r-r-r-r-! B-r-r-r-r-! B-r-r-r-r-r!" sounded 
 from the ringing-box of the silver plated tele- 
 phone in the sitting-room of Loris Siockbridge'a 
 suito. 
 
266 WHISPEEING WIRES 
 
 The prisoner pulled at the chain as he leaned 
 toward the telephone. "It's ringing," he said 
 in a thin whisper. "Let me — ^let me listen in." 
 
 Drew studied the entire situation before he 
 granted permission. Loris and Nichols were 
 framed between the silken portieres. The cap- 
 tain held his army regulation revolver at his 
 hip. Loris leaned forward with her dark eyes 
 smoldering and intent. The blood had left her 
 cheeks. They were white and tersely set. She 
 seemed older to Drew. He smiled reassuringly, 
 dropped his gtm to his hip, pressed it against 
 the prisoner and shoved him toward the 'phone 
 as a "B-r-r-r-r-" sounded above the lifting roar 
 of Delaney's voice in the depths of the great 
 mansion. 
 
 The room became charged and surchargeci 
 with electricity. A crackling sounded as Drew's 
 feet glided inch by inch over the silk rug. The 
 storm outside whined and synchronized with 
 the rise and fall of the great voice shouting 
 "Hello! HeUo! Hello! Hello, you!" 
 
 The trouble-man turned. His hand reached 
 upward and lifted the hard-rubber receiver 
 from the hook. His lids fluttered toward Loris. 
 JHis eyes softened with memories. "I'm glad 
 I didn't do it!" he hissed across the room. 
 'Good-by, lady — ^good-by!" 
 
 "Be carefull" snapped Drew, pressing the 
 
^*THE VOICE ON THE WIRE" 267, 
 
 revolver firmly against tlie prisoner's right side. 
 * ' Be careful ! This is a hair trigger ! ' ' 
 
 The trouble-man smiled a twisted, -wan smile 
 as he turned his head toward the transmitter 
 and said huskily : 
 
 "Hello! Hello! You big copper ! Shout onl 
 See how loud you can curse me! That's it. 
 That— is— it!" 
 
 Drew heard Delaney's voice rise in indigna- 
 tion. The taunt had spumed him to greater 
 effort. The metallic diaphragm of the receiver 
 roared and clicked. It echoed the voice. It 
 stopped. It vibrated again. It reached a reed- 
 like tune of high-pitched anger. The prisoner 
 closed his eyes and stiffened. He pressed the 
 receiver directly over his ear. He drew back on 
 the chain and to one side. Drew's face dark- 
 ened with suspicion. It was too late. The de- 
 tective had time to spring away as a cone of 
 lurid light and flame shot out from the tele- 
 phone diaphragm and splashed across the pris- 
 oner's set face. A sharp detonation racked the 
 perfumed air of the room. Smoke wreathed 
 about the astonished Inspector's head, and 
 floated upward toward the ventilator. 
 
 Cuthbert Morphy's muscles relaxed. He 
 spun, sank to his knees, then pitched forward 
 across the rug with a bullet in his brain. Drew 
 untwisted the chain with a wrist flip, sprang 
 forward toward the cheval-glass, and stamped 
 
268 WHISPEKINa WIBES 
 
 Ms foot down upon th.e smoking teleplione re- 
 ceiver as if it were the head of a rattlesnake. 
 
 He turned with dear light striking out from 
 his eyes. He nodded toward the leaning form 
 of the girl and the erect one of the captain. 
 He divined in seconds how the murder of Mont- 
 gomery Stockbridge had been accomplished. 
 The full series of events and dues flashed 
 through his brain. It was Hke an orderly ar- 
 ray seen at a picture show. 
 
 Cuthbert Morphy, guised as a trouble-hunter 
 in the employ of the telephone company, had 
 devised a single-shot pistol out of a telephone 
 receiver and had caused it to be actuated by the 
 human voice so that it would always strike ia 
 the most vulnerable part of man's anatomy — < 
 the ear. 
 
 With this lethal instrument he had slain the 
 millionaire, and, when trapped and in danger 
 of execution, he had employed the same method 
 to bring about his own death. It was a fitting 
 end to a life of crime and drug-brought im- 
 ageries. 
 
 Delaney, with drawn gun and wild of eyes, 
 burst through the tapestries and brought up 
 with a dizzy lurch before the body of Cuthbert 
 Morphy. He stammered and glared downward. 
 He swung his heavy chin and stared at Loris 
 and Nichols in the gloom of the further car- 
 
"THE VOICE ON THE WIEE" 269 
 
 tains. He clapped Drew on the shoulder with 
 a heavy hand. 
 
 "Had to shoot him, eh, Chief? What'd he 
 try? What — ^you got your foot on? 
 
 "An electric pistol," said Drew, with a grim 
 smile distending his olive-hned lips. "An in- 
 fernal machine, Delaney. I hope it isn't a re- 
 peater. Cut that wire I Both wires 1 Get your 
 knife out and cut through them, quick ! I won't 
 take any chances." 
 
 The big operative pocketed his revolver with 
 a back swing of his right hand, brought it for- 
 ward empty and ran it down his trouser pocket. 
 He brought out a buck-horn jack-knife, pried 
 it open, stooped and slashed through the two 
 sUk cords holding the receiver to the bottom of 
 the transmitter which had fallen from the 
 bracket. 
 
 Loris swayed with supple limbs. She raised 
 her hands and pressed her imjeweled fingers 
 against her face. She sobbed once, then turned 
 and threw herself upon Nichols' drab shoulder. 
 "Harry," she cried. "Oh, Harry — ^what hap- 
 pened? I didn't see what happened!" 
 
 The captain glided an arm about her waist 
 end half -carried, half -led her to a couch ia the 
 readiQg-room. "Best here a minute," he said, 
 leaning down. "Be cool and as brave as yon 
 can. The trouble-man won't trouble you any 
 longer. He took his own medicine!" 
 
270 WHISPEEING WIRES 
 
 Nichols returned to the sitting room in time 
 to hear Drew exclaim, after Delaney had 
 reached down and lifted the receiver, * ' The case 
 is closed! This closes it with a bang I Grive 
 me that electric pistol, Delaney!" 
 
 The operative handed it over. "Get a big 
 rag," ordered Drew with sudden thought. 
 "Cover that feUow over till we call the Cen- 
 tral Office men and the coroner. I want to ex- 
 amine this receiver." 
 
 "Eight here on this little table woiild be a 
 good place," suggested Nichols, lifting off a 
 handful of ivory ornaments and depositing 
 them on top of a glass case. "I'll spread a pa- 
 per here. I'd like to see what's inside that 
 thing myself." 
 
 "Do you know anything about electricity or 
 telephony?" asked Drew, as he turned the hard- 
 rubber receiver in his hand and stared at the 
 listening end. 
 
 "Very little. Inspector. But fire-arms are in 
 my line and that seems to be one." 
 
 The detective nodded. "It's one, all right," 
 he spid, holding it out with a steady hand. 
 "Looks harmless, don't it? Two binding-posts 
 on one end. A rubber cap on the other. Notice 
 that diaphragm." 
 
 Nichols took the receiver smd squinted at the 
 rubber cap. "By George!" he said. "This is 
 odd. There's a tiay hole driUed or punched in 
 
«'THE VOICE ON THE WIEE" 271 
 
 ■flie center. It's about the same size as the 
 bore of a twenty-two caliber revolver." 
 
 "Look at your bands!" said Drew. "What 
 the devil," he added with dawning conviction. 
 "Say, Delaney, do you remember that spot of 
 black under my left ear. The one you noticed 
 after we left yesterday morning? The " 
 
 * ' Sure, Chief. That 's where you got the smut 
 — from that receiver 1" 
 
 "I got it when I picked up the telephone in 
 the library downstairs and tried to get Central. 
 Do you remember how long she took? This is 
 the same receiver in all probability. The trou- 
 ble-hunter removed it from the library connec- 
 tions, loaded it, and brought it up here. It looks 
 like any ordinary receiver. The telephone com- 
 pany have some with binding posts and some 
 without. This is an earlier model." 
 
 "The spot of black was from the first dis- 
 charge when Stockbridge was kUled!" ex- 
 claimed Delaney. 
 
 Drew ran his fingers around the umer rim of 
 the rubber cap. He held tiiem up. "See!" he 
 exclaimed. "No wonder my neck was marked. 
 That settles that mystery, Delaney. If we 
 had any brains at all we would have connected 
 the soot and the telephone. If we had done 
 that we 'd have solved the case early this morn- 
 ing, or yesterday morning. It's after one, 
 now I" 
 
272 iWHISPEBING WIEES 
 
 "This hole," said Nichols, "was the only 
 thing in the whole dastardly scheme that conld 
 have been seen. It's the size of the end of a 
 lead pencil Funny you didn't notice it?" 
 
 "I looked everywhere but there," admitted 
 Drew. * * The receiver hangs with the diaphragm 
 end down. TTiat's the reason I didn't see it. 
 Well — ^there's always a reason," he added. 
 "Now, Delaney, fetch me that trouble-hunter's 
 satchel. We'll see what this pistol is made of 
 and how it is made. I venture to say that it 
 is simple." 
 
 Delaney awoke from his stupor and lifted a 
 rug which he tossed over the body of Cuthbert 
 Morphy. He wiped his hands with a finite mo- 
 tion. He wheeled and slouched lankily across 
 the polished floor. He returned with the line- 
 man's kit. 
 
 "Pliers," said Drew, as the big operative re- 
 moved the straps and, reached his hand inside, 
 "I saw a pair there when we had it open be- 
 fore," the detective added, unscrewing the rub- 
 ber cap of the receiver and lifting the thiu 
 metal diaphragm from the face of two tiny mag- 
 nets which were wound with fine silk wire. 
 
 "Regulation magnets," whispered Nichols, 
 leaning over the detective's shoulder. "They're 
 regulation except there's a hole drilled down 
 between them. There must be a barrel all the 
 way through the receiver." 
 
"THE VOICE ON THE WIRE" 273 
 
 "We'll see. Got those pliers, Delaney?" 
 
 The operative passed up a pair. "Ah," 
 chuckled the detective, unscrewing the binding- 
 posts and lifting off a hard rubber cap. "Ah, 
 see here!" 
 
 Delaney rose and peered over the captain's 
 shoulder straps. The two men watched Drew's 
 nimble fingers trace out the mechanism of the 
 electric pistol. 
 
 "It's simple!" declared the detective. "It's 
 very simple and ingenious in construction. It's 
 a crowning wonder to me that some one hasn't 
 used this sort of device to carry out a whole- 
 sale slaughtering. Suppose they never thought 
 of it." 
 
 Drew glanced at the silent mound under the 
 Persian rug. * * The wrong road, ' ' he whispered 
 tersely. "He took the wrong road. He was a 
 mechanical and electrical genius. He. was a 
 patent expert." 
 
 Delaney worked his brows up and down. 
 "ShaU I call Miss Stockbridge?" he asked. 
 
 "I'll do it," Nichols said, turning and hurry- 
 ing > through the portieres. He returned with 
 Loris leaning upon his arm. Her eyes were 
 glazed and tear-laden. She held a tiny, limp 
 lace handkerchief between her trembling fingers. 
 
 "There's no danger," said Drew. "Come 
 here, Miss Stockbridge," he added. "I want 
 to Rhow you what was all ready for you." 
 
274 WHISPEEING WIEES 
 
 The detective raised tlie hard-rubber receiver. 
 "Here we have the diaphragm," he said, point- 
 ing. "It's a round plate of soft iron. It's se- 
 cured to the rubber by an insulated ring. It is 
 the part you press up to your ear when you 
 listen at a telephone. There's a small hole 
 punched in this one. The same sized hole ex- 
 tends down through the center core, or magnet. 
 This hole isn't rifled. It couldn't well be rifled 
 save with special machinery. That's why the 
 bullet found in Mr. Stockbridge's brain was 
 without longitudinal scorings. It was fired 
 from a smooth-bored pistol." 
 
 "That's what you thought!" blurted De- 
 laney with loyalty. 
 
 "I was at sea," said Drew. "Now," he con- 
 tinued, "we have a live cartridge at the oppo- 
 site end of this core from the diaphragm. See 
 it?" Loris leaned over the little table. 
 
 "Right here!" The detective pointed. 
 "That is a twenty-two cartridge with a oupro- 
 nickle bullet. See the cap? See how it is held 
 from coming back by those tiny screws about 
 the rim?" 
 
 Loris nodded and gathered up her straying 
 hair. 
 
 "Now," continued Drew. "Now, this cart- 
 ridge was exploded by the action of the human 
 voice. Here's a tiny spiral of very slender 
 platinum wire. It must be number forty, at 
 
"THE VOICE ON THE WIEE" 275 
 
 least. That's very fine ! This spiral is in series 
 with the winding about the magnets. The same 
 current pulsated by the human voice which ac- 
 tuates the receiver diaphragm, also passed 
 through this spiral. Now," Drew paused. 
 "Now," he added with rising voice, "here is a 
 tiny charred piece of match-head, I guess. It 
 was set in the coil. It flared when the wire be- 
 came hot. The heat was sufficient to ignite the 
 cap. See it?" 
 
 "I see it!" exclaimed Nichols. 
 
 * * The action is simple, ' ' continued Drew. * * A 
 pulsation of the current which was formed by 
 the action of the vibrating, transmitter dia- 
 phragm, also pulsated the fine wire before it 
 went to the receiver magnets. The louder the 
 voice into the transmitter the more current — 
 measured in fractions of amperes — ^passed 
 through the spiral. It became sufficiently hot 
 to fiare the piece of match-head or whatever 
 Cuthbert placed there. This flare was commu- 
 nicated to the percussion cap, or fulminate of 
 mercury, at the base of the cartridge. This ex- 
 ploded the powder charge, which in turn pro- 
 jected the cupronickle bullet forward through 
 the tube or the bore of the receiver and out 
 through the thin, metal diaphragm, and " 
 
 "What's that?" asked the operative. 
 
 "Out through the hole in the diaphragm," 
 
276 WHISPERING WIEES 
 
 contimied Drew, "and riglit into your ear or my 
 ear, Delaneyl" 
 
 "Not into mine!" exclaimed the operative. 
 "I'll never telephone as long as I live, Chief 1" 
 
 "We'll all be careful," said Nichols, turning 
 toward Loris. 
 
 Drew gathered together the different parts 
 of the telephone receiver. "Evidence against 
 Morphy," he said dryly, as he dropped them 
 into the side pocket of his coat. "They are our 
 Exhibit A if he ever finishes that twenty years 
 in the cooler." 
 
 Loris reached out her hand. "You saved my 
 life, ' ' she said. ' ' You saved it, Mr. Drew. ' ' 
 
 "I blundered and blundered and blundered 
 on this case," admitted the detective frankly. 
 "Now I'm going to request you to wait a few 
 minutes before I call the coroner. Delaney has 
 some questions. I feel sure he wants to ask me 
 one or two." 
 
CHAPTER SIXTEEN 
 "the bnp" 
 
 TRIGGY DREW'S eyes shone with tri- 
 Tunphant fire as he turned and faced the 
 group gathered in the sitting room. 
 
 He adjusted his coat lapels, clicked his heels 
 and smiled politely. His hand strayed up to his 
 short-cropped mustache which was still neat 
 and well-trimmed despite the labors of the day, 
 
 "Although the case is practically closed," he 
 said with concern, "there are features which 
 are not entirely cleared up — even in my mind. 
 Perhaps we have a little time," he added, glanc- 
 ing at his watch. "Let's go into the other room 
 — away from these memories — and have a cup 
 of tea, if Miss Stockbridge will be so kind as to 
 order some." 
 
 Loris glanced at Nichols. She nodded as she 
 turned toward Drew. He moved over to the 
 rug which covered Cuthbert Morphy's body. He 
 stooped and adjusted this. He rose and 
 dimmed the lights by snapping off two of the 
 switches and turning a bulb in its socket. He 
 hesitated as he glanced at the telephone wires 
 which Delaney had cut. 
 
 277 
 
278 WHISPEEINa WIEES 
 
 "Central will wonder what has happened," 
 he said half aloud. "The connections leading 
 to this house have given them a lot of trouble 
 in the last few hours. I suppose they haven't 
 another trouble-man like this one, though?" 
 Drew pointed toward the shadowed ru^ which 
 gleamed with silk and rare woven designs. 
 
 Loris raised her hand and grasped the por- 
 tieres. She shuddered slightly. She allowed 
 her eyes to wander over the room as if for a last 
 fleeting glance. They locked with the detective's 
 own. She smiled with a plaintive droop to her 
 mouth. 
 
 "I'll order the tea," she said invitingly. 
 ' * WiU you come in ? " 
 
 Drew bowed and followed her through the 
 portieres. Delaney already stood by the door 
 which led to the maid's room. Harry Nichols 
 had picked up a small book and was impatiently 
 examining its pages. The soldier turned and 
 eyed the detective. 
 
 "We'U sit down?" he asked, laying the book 
 on a cushion. "I'm a bit curious to know how 
 you worked out a number of things. I think 
 that Miss Stockbridge is, too." 
 
 "I'd like to be a detective I" exclaimed Loris, 
 gliding across the room and tapping with her 
 knuckles on the door. "Wouldn't you, Mr. De- 
 laney?" she added naively. 
 
 Delaney chuckled. "I would. Miss," he said 
 
"THE END" 279 
 
 with candor. "I'm not a regular. I'm only a 
 volunteer. Mr. Drew has me along to do the 
 heavy work. He says what I can't lift I can 
 drag." 
 
 Loris smiled as the maid answered by open- 
 ing the door to a crack. "Tea for four," she 
 said. "Pekoe and tea biscuits — unless " 
 
 She turned and widened her eyes prettily. 
 "Would you have anything else?" she asked 
 Drew. 
 
 "Strong tea!" exclaimed the detective. "I'll 
 take 'hops,' as we call it. Make it very strong 
 and then we'll settle some of these questions. 
 My head is none too clear. I've been under a 
 strain. I'm frank to admit that!" 
 
 The tea arrived within ten minutes. Drew 
 had prevented Delaney from 'phoning for the 
 coroner or to Fosdick. "Some matters to clear 
 up," he whispered suggestively. "We'll leave 
 this place with the case entirely completed." 
 
 Nichols arranged two chairs about a tiny 
 teak-wood table. He had set this table within 
 the bay of an alcove. The space was small, 
 with Delaney 's big feet very much in the way. 
 
 Drew poised his cup and glanced from Loris 
 to Nichols. Their heads were very close to- 
 gether. The blue-black luster of the girl's hair 
 was a perfect contrast to the oflBcer's blond 
 pompadour which was slightly disarranged. 
 
280 WHISPEEING WIEES 
 
 The ligM from above haloed with the soft fire 
 of frosted glass and cut prisms. 
 
 The detective upended the cup, drank deeply, 
 then passed it over to Delaney. "Another, 
 please," he said, watching the operative strug- 
 gling with a saucer which was far too fragile 
 for his thick fingers. "One more cup," he 
 added. "No sugar." 
 
 Loris leaned from the cushion at the small of 
 her back and glanced toward the portieres with 
 thought-laden eyes. "Poor misguided fellow," 
 she said softly. "I feel uneasy, Mr. Drew. 
 Somehow or other I feel that we were partly 
 responsible for his death. I wish it hadn't hap- 
 pened." 
 
 "I'll agree with you. We must forget more 
 than we remember in this world. Our time is 
 short. The coroner and the Central OflSce squad 
 will have to be notified. I don't doubt that 
 Fosdiok will be surprised at the turn in the 
 case. He has some of your servants locked up, 
 you know!" 
 
 Loris pressed closer to Nichols. * ' I wish that 
 body wasn't in there," she whispered, "Sup- 
 pose he had other confederates who would break 
 in?" 
 
 "He worked alone," assured Drew, finishing 
 the second cup and setting it down. "I found 
 no evidence of another crook. He worked sin- 
 gle-handed and single-miaded. He made one 
 
"THE END" 281 
 
 mistake. Morphy was a bungler. A bungler is 
 a man who lets his artistic temperament get the 
 better of him. Had he allowed Cuthbert to slay 
 both the — ^Mr. Stockbridge and yourself over 
 the 'phone, he would never have solved the case. 
 It was the telephoning from Sing Sing that 
 opened up the entire matter." 
 
 "The inevitable slip!" eiclaimed Nichols. 
 
 "Yes," said Drew. "They aU make it. I 
 could tell you of a thousand instances. But 
 back of the inevitable slip, as you call it, is some- 
 thing deeper. It has not often been mentioned 
 in dealing with crinunals." 
 
 "What is it?" asked Loris. 
 
 "Ego I Crimiaal egol Most transgressors 
 would go to the electric chair if the newspapers 
 would write enough about them." 
 
 Loris raised her brows. "Is that the rea- 
 son," she asked, "why Morphy telephoned be- 
 fore he killed poor father!" 
 
 * ' Exactly ! ' ' declared the detective. "Ego ex- 
 plains much that we call revenge. Now," he 
 added, glancing about and at a tiny clock on a 
 cabinet. "Now the questions from everybody 1 
 Make them short. Mr. Delaney and I will leave 
 in ten minutes." 
 
 Nichols glanced at Loris. **Tou first," he 
 said. 
 
 "I've just one or two, Mr. Drew," she said. 
 
 "What are theyl" 
 
282 WmSPEEING WIEES 
 
 "Why did that poor dead man spare my life 
 when he called me up the first time! He could 
 have killed me then." 
 
 "I explained that. It wasn't his vendetta." 
 
 "Vendetta?" 
 
 "That is what this case is. An almost suc- 
 cessful attempt to wipe out, or I should say ob- 
 literate, the Stockbridge FamOy — root and 
 branch. Morphy had nursed the thing for over 
 a year. He had soured up there in prison. His 
 mind became abnormal. He conceived an abnor- 
 mal revenge. Also a personal one. He had 
 every reason to believe that he would never be 
 discovered." 
 
 "Then, Mr. Drew, he would have called me 
 up on the phone later and done what he did — 
 to father! He would have told me who he was 
 over the telephone, and — and " 
 
 "Yes, Miss Stockbridge. Yes, be calm, 
 though. He is beyond the pale now. You wiU 
 never hear from him again. Be assured of 
 that!" 
 
 Drew leaned in his chair and glanced at De- 
 laney. The big operative fidgeted in his seat, 
 squirmed, reached for the tea-pot, then drew 
 back his hand and started drumming the table 
 with his fingers. 
 
 Nichols disengaged his arm from behind 
 Loris and squared his shoulders. He moved 
 forward. " I 'm going to ask a question for Miss 
 
"THE END" 283 
 
 Stockbridge," he said. "Did you ever suspect 
 her?" 
 
 "Never!" declared Drew. 
 
 "Or me?" 
 
 The detective hesitated before he answered. 
 His smile cleared the air as he said. "Once — 
 for about an hour. That was when I found out 
 that you were partly German. I got over it, 
 though." 
 
 "So did I," declared Nichols. "I got over 
 the German part in no time. I enlisted 1" 
 
 "That's a good answer 1 The best one I 
 know!" 
 
 Delaney turned to his chief. He drew in his 
 legs. "There's a question I'd like to «isk," h« 
 said. 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 "That magpie?" 
 
 Drew eyed Loris. "It's her bird now," he 
 said. "She may not want it dragged back here 
 again. I shouldn't think she would." 
 
 "I don't!" exclaimed Loris. "I wish that 
 you would e_xplain how you followed the clew, 
 though. It talks so seldom, and then when it 
 does talk it says such nonsense it's a perfect 
 enigma." 
 
 "That bird," said Drew, "was the fine turn- 
 ing point of the case. Before it was brought 
 into the office, downtown, I had no dew to start 
 from. There was no indication to show from 
 
284 WHISPEEING WIBES 
 
 whence the blow had fallen. Your father was 
 slain for a motive. He was talking to Morphy 
 when he died. Cuthhert had connected the two 
 men." 
 
 "Through the two booths!" asked Loris. 
 
 "Yes. Through the booths at Grand Central. 
 Their conversation was probably a brief one. 
 Morphy undoubtedly gloated a minute or two, 
 then told Mr. Stockbridge that his time had 
 come on this earth. Naturally Mr. Stockbridge 
 asked who was talking. Morphy answered by 
 stating who he was, and also tiiat he was at 
 Srag Sing. Mr. Stockbridge repeated this state- 
 ment aloud. He probably said, 'What, Sing 
 Sing?' or *Ah, Ossiningl' or words to that ef- 
 fect. The bird heard it and remembered it." 
 
 "How strange!" exclaimed Nichols. 
 
 "Not at all," said Drew, leaning forward. 
 "It was just like a magpie to pick out the one 
 salient part of a conversation and repeat it. 
 The couplet 'Sing Sing' was one it had never 
 heard. It is so striking to even a bird. It prob- 
 ably came with such emphasis, there was no 
 forgetting itl" 
 
 The group facing the detective was silent for 
 a long minute. Delaney moved uneasily as 
 Nichols toyed with his cup. Loris breathed in 
 suppressed wonder at the tiny clew which had 
 overthrown the best laid plans on the part of 
 Morphy and his confederate. It was like an 
 
"THE END" 2^ 
 
 echo of a dead voice coining back to confront a 
 murderer. She shivered as she widened her 
 eyes and stared at Drew. 
 
 "There's another question," she said. "How 
 did the trouble-man get into this house in the 
 first place, Mr. Drew I " / 
 
 * * I was responsible. He forced my hand I ' * 
 
 "How?" 
 
 "By a clever subterfuge. He disconnected 
 the library telephone wires at the junction-box 
 in the alley. , He knew that sooner or later Mr. 
 Stookbridge would try to use the 'phone. He 
 couldn't get a connection, or I couldn't. It was 
 the time I tried to 'phone and then notified 
 Gramercy Hill Exchange through another 
 'phone. He was listening in and consequently 
 caught the gist of my orders to Harrigan. He 
 hurried to Gramercy Hill Exchange and there 
 met Frisby, another trouble-man, starting out 
 to investigate my complaint. He took Frisby 'a 
 place, hurried over and closed the library con- 
 nection and then came into the house, stating 
 that we had sent for him." 
 
 "Clever," said Nichols. "That was clever, 
 wasn't it?" 
 
 ' ' Remarkably so ! " exclaimed Drew. * ' It was 
 a case of making the detective on the premises 
 act as a tool. It was like a safeblower asMng 
 a night watchman to move a safe out on a truck. 
 I never suspected that fellow at all. I hardly 
 
28g .WHISPEEINO WIRES 
 
 looked at Th'tti wlien lie was testing the eonneo- 
 tions in the library. I even heard him rattling 
 a pair of pliers over the binding posts on th©^ 
 receiver. That was the time he took the old 
 one off and put on the loaded pistol. It was 
 done very quickly." 
 
 The detective paused and glanced at his 
 watch. ' ' We must go, ' ' he said, staring at Loria 
 with soft interest. "I'm afraid we're keeping 
 you from your sleep." 
 
 "No. I want to ask you another question," 
 she said eagerly. "I'm stiU in doubt about the 
 slot booths at Grand Central Why were they 
 used!" 
 
 "As a throw off! That is what the English 
 would call shunting. Electricians use the same 
 word. It means diverting a current or a con- 
 nection. Cuthbert did this so that his trail 
 would be harder to check up. He thought of al- 
 most everything." 
 
 "He missed his vocation!" interjected 
 Nichols. 
 
 "And misused Ms talents," added Loris. 
 "Think of being clever enough to do all of those 
 things, and stoop to murder. He paid ten times 
 over. He must have been under that man Mor- 
 phy's power. So many men were. I heard fa- 
 ther say that when Morphy was arrested. He 
 said Morphy was the most dangerous man in 
 
"THE END" 287 
 
 the world. That he would cause trouble sooner 
 or later." 
 
 Drew rose and nodded. "He did that!-" he 
 exclaimed with conviction. "He came very- 
 close to getting away with it. But for the mag- 
 pie and the fact that he 'phoned from the prison 
 at the same time your father was murdered, 
 there would have been no clew. Cuthbert would 
 have entered this house after you were slain, 
 and removed the receiver. That would have 
 thrown the case into one of the unsolved mys- 
 teries. Electricity is a dangerous tool in the 
 hands of clever crooks," 
 
 "It leaves no trace!" said Delaney, rising 
 and standing by his chief. * ' It isn 't made out of 
 anything except little shakes in the wire or 
 something like that. ' ' 
 
 Drew smiled good-naturedly. "It's a mys- 
 tery to most people," he said, turning toward 
 the windows and listening. "It's a bigger mys- 
 tery to a woman than to a man," he added. 
 "It's a good agent if properly used and kept 
 within bounds. It brings back life as well as 
 takes it. It creates and also destroys. No one 
 knows what it is. All that we do know about 
 it is its action on material substances — ^the 
 power to transform mechanical 6nergy into vi- 
 brations and then back again into meohanioal 
 energy." 
 
 "Like a voice on a wire?" asked Loris, 
 
288 WHISPEEING WIRES 
 
 "Yes, Miss Stockbridge. The mechanical 
 vibration of a diaphragm in a telephone trans- 
 mitter is changed to electrical vibrations, passes 
 along a wire and changes back to the same thing 
 we had at the beginning. <;!uthbert took advan- 
 tage of this fact. All that was sent into the li- 
 brary was Morphy's voice on the wire. The 
 wire left no trace. The voice actuated the dia- 
 phragm and at the same time the fine heating 
 coil at the cap on the cartridge. The energy of 
 the voice was sufficient to raise the temperature 
 of the coil. This raise in. temperature flashed 
 some compound set in the wire. The flash 
 started the fulminate of mercury in the cap. 
 The cap exploded the smokeless powder. It was 
 a series of steps each a little higher than the 
 one below it." 
 
 "Was there any other way of doing the same 
 thing?" Nichols inquired, as he rose lankily and 
 stood over Loris. 
 
 "Yes I" declared Drew. "I can look back 
 over what I found ia the technical books about 
 electricity and telephony and see several other 
 ways for Cuthbert to accomplish the same re- 
 sult. The electrical pistol did not necessarily 
 have to be actuated by the human voice." 
 
 "How terrible!" Loris whispered, with her 
 brow puckering. "Perhaps others wUl use the 
 same idea to slay their enemies." 
 
 "We'U keep it a close secret," the detective 
 
"THE END" 289 
 
 said. "It rests with us four, now. Outside of 
 us, there is only Morphy who knows." 
 
 "How else could the pistol he discharged?" 
 
 "Two other ways that I see, Miss Stock- 
 bridge. "It would be rather easy to arrange a 
 little magnetic trigger ia the receiver. This 
 trigger could be actuated by an excess of cur- 
 rent — say the connecting of a hundred and ten 
 volt lighting circuit on the line. It might burn 
 out the magnet wiring, but it would also release 
 the trigger and fire the cartridge." 
 
 "That's like a door-catch?" 
 
 "Yes," said Drew. "Like a door-catch opar- 
 ated by a magnet or like the firing pin of a large 
 cannon. They're not aU operated by lanyards. 
 Some work with push-buttons." 
 
 Nichols passed his hand over his brow. "I 
 know another way," he said, glancing down at 
 Loris. "There is a way which is far cleverer 
 than Cuthbert thought of. It could be done by 
 a tuning-fork or reed." 
 
 "Certainly!" exclaimed Drew. "I ne^er 
 thought of that. A reed attuned to a certaia 
 voice could be adapted to trip a trigger. Then 
 the loaded receiver could be set so that one of 
 your friends who had a peculiar voice, either 
 high or low, would slay you. Rather terrifying 
 revenge, that!" 
 
 "Beyond the pale!" said Nichols. "It's too 
 bad this man Cuthbert didn't exercise one-tentai 
 
290 WHISPERING WIRES 
 
 of Ms genius in perfecting war inventions. He'd 
 have helped us a lot." 
 
 Drew nodded and strode to the curtains at a 
 side window. He peered out, rubbed the frosted 
 panes, and pressed his nose against the glass. 
 
 "Stopped snowing!" he exclaimed, coming 
 back and clasping Delaney's arm. "You hurry 
 down-stairs and telephone Posdick that we are 
 waiting for him. Tell him to notify the coroner 
 that there's a subject here which wiU' interest 
 him. We'll not explain everything to either the 
 coroner or Fosdick. No one save us shall know 
 the secret of the receiver." 
 
 "Delaney," said Nichols, as the big operative 
 started through the portieres. "Mr. Delaney." 
 
 " Yes !" boomed back through the room. 
 
 "Ask the Commissioner if he will release Miss 
 Stockbridge's servants. It was an outrage." 
 
 "That's right!" exclaimed Drew, striding to 
 the portieres. "Tell him I said so, Delaney. 
 Tell him just what you think. Give it to him 
 strong! He bungled and he don't deserve a bit 
 of sympathy." 
 
 "Mr. Drew?" 
 
 The detective wheeled on one heel and glanced 
 back at Loris, who had risen and was standing 
 with her arm linked within Nichols'. "Mr. 
 Drew," she repeated with slow insistence, 
 "won't you have another cup of tea before you 
 go?" 
 
"THE END" ^1 
 
 <<r 
 
 'That I will, Miss Stockbridge. We three 
 shall drink to the end of the case. Have you 
 asked all the questions you want to? I want to 
 forget this night as soon as possible. You were 
 too close to death to suit me." 
 
 "I don't think of any more questions," said 
 Loris, disengaging her arm and gliding across 
 the room. "We'll get the tea. There is one 
 matter. I want to pay you for your splendid 
 services." 
 
 "Ah!" exclaimed Drew. "Ah, Miss Stock- 
 bridge, they were far from being splendid. I 
 lost my reputation in the first instance. I should 
 never have allowed your father to remain alone 
 in the library. That was very short-sighted cm 
 my part." 
 
 "You couldn't think of everything." 
 
 "I underestimated the gravity of the sitna- 
 tion." 
 
 "Perhaps father didn't explain how dangav 
 jous his enemies really were." 
 
 "No, I don't think it was that, exactly. I 
 had been reading so many accounts of German 
 spies that I connected this case with one of them. 
 I took precautions against anything that a Ger- 
 man might think of. I didn't figure on super- 
 brains of the criminal order. Cuthbert Morphy 
 had them ! ' ' 
 
 The maid appeared with the tray and hot 
 water. Drew took the cup frbm Loris with a 
 
292 WHISPERING WIEES 
 
 bow. He allowed the tea lo oool as he glanced 
 at the two lovers. They had grown closer to- 
 gether over the time of the investigation. Nich- 
 ols had that poise which is given to well-trained 
 army men. He never said too much. This was 
 a trait which pleased the detective immensely. 
 It spoke volumes for Loris and her judgment in 
 placing her trust in him. 
 
 "I actually hate to leave you people," Drew 
 said, finishing the cup. "But I must be on my 
 way." 
 
 Loris arched her dark brows. Her mouth 
 parted into a soft smile. Her eyes glistened 
 with moisture. "Harry is going, too," she 
 said, glancing from Drew to Nichols. "He has 
 to go ! I'll sleep upstairs in mother's old room 
 to-night. The maid can watch. Perhaps the 
 butler will be back." 
 
 "He'll be backl" ejaculated the detective, ad- 
 justing his coat collar and stroking his mus- 
 tache. "I'll see to that if I have to go over 
 Fosdick's thick head. You can expect all of 
 your servants within an hour." 
 
 Heavy footfalls on the rugs outside the suite 
 announced Delaney. He came through the por- 
 tieres rubbing his hands in the manner of a man 
 who was well-satisfied with his errand. 
 
 "I got them I" he boomed, glancing from 
 Drew to Nichols and then letting his eyes shine 
 on Loris. "I got Fosdiok, first. I told him 
 
"THE END" 293 
 
 what I thouglit of him, too. I don't like him. 
 Never did! He said he'd be right up and see 
 about things. He can see!" The big operative 
 swung toward his chief, 
 
 "How about the coroner?" asked Drew. 
 
 "He's coming as fast as his hurry-up wagon- 
 will let him. I told him there was another — 
 well, you know what I told him, Chief?" 
 
 The detective lifted his lowered brows. "Yes ! 
 Yes!" he said hastily, after a keen glance at 
 Loris. "Yes. You did right. Now, get into 
 the other room and gather up all of the tools 
 and plaster-casts and every scrap of our own 
 evidence. Put them in the trouble-man's satchel. 
 Set the satchel outside the door to the hall. 
 Then wait for me. I'll be but a minute. ' ' 
 
 Delaney paused. "There's one thing," he 
 
 said in a half stammer "One thing, Chief, 
 
 that's been troubling me while I was 'phoning 
 to the coroner and to Fosdick." 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 "If I can have that magpie? I'm going to 
 give it to my wife — ^Mary — ^if I can. There's no 
 bird in the house." 
 
 Drew turned toward Loris who had drawn 
 Nichols to a window. 
 
 "Can he have it, Miss Stockbridge?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "Certainly!" 
 
 "Thanks," throated tlM operative, passing 
 
294 WHISPERING WIRES 
 
 through the portieres with renewed energy. 
 "Thanks," he added under his breath as he 
 started picking up the plaster casts and tools. 
 "That's how we caught 'Cutbert,' and I'll 
 nurse the bird like a Grand Opera singer." 
 
 Loris glided from out the curtains and 
 crossed the room. She stood a moment under 
 a cone of soft light which reflected downward 
 and brought out every detail of her gown and 
 girlish figure. She turned and smiled widely ^t 
 Drew who stood by the portieres. 
 
 "I've almost forgotten something," she said, 
 drawing out a chair and sitting down with a 
 graceful sweep of her skirt. "I've forgotten 
 that you are tired and that you have worked 
 hard." 
 
 "Not at all," said Drew. 
 
 "Yes, you are tired and you have worked 
 veary hard. Harry will bear me out in that. He 
 was just saying that you would make a good 
 major of overseas forces. Why don't you join 
 the army?" 
 
 Drew reached into his right hand trouser 
 pocket. He brought his hand out with a smaU 
 gold badge between his fingers. "I've already 
 joined the army," he said. "This is a Secret 
 Service badge. Don 't you know that much work 
 can be done over on this side! A burnt ware- 
 house, for instance, is equal to a victory for the 
 E[aiser. My agency is almost exclusively de- 
 
"THE END" 295 
 
 voted to Government work. We never mention 
 it, though." 
 
 "I see," said Loris, reaching into a pigeon- 
 hole and drawing out a small yellow check-book. 
 "I'm glad," she added, picking up a mother-of- 
 pearl penholder and inspecting the pen-point. 
 "I rather thought you would do your share. I 
 think everybody should to the limit of their 
 pocketbook and ability. Harry is." 
 
 Drew bowed slightly. ' ' That's right, stick by 
 Harry," he said to himself. "She's a sticker 
 and then some," he added, frowning toward 
 the check-book and the poised pen. 
 
 "Mr. Drew?" 
 
 The detective took one step in her direction. 
 He waited then. 
 
 "Mr. Drew, how much money do I owe you? 
 I'll pay you out of my account until the estate 
 is settled." 
 
 The detective smiled broadly. "Nothing," 
 he said, toying with his watch chaia. "I don't 
 think you owe me anythiag ia this case." 
 
 "Oh, but Idol" 
 
 "I don't think so. Your father retained me. 
 He was — ^was slain through my own careless- 
 ness. I think I owe you something." 
 
 "I can't let it remain that way." Loris 
 turned and widened her eyes, A tiny pout 
 sweetened her mouth. Nichols came across the 
 rugs and stood by her side. He turned to Drew. 
 
296 WHISPERING WIRES 
 
 * * That wouldn 't be fair, ' ' he said. * * You cer- 
 tainly earned your fee in this case. Why, you 
 look five years older than, when you came up 
 into my rooms with, that little pistol!" 
 
 Drew touched his mustache. He closed his 
 lips. Fatigue swept over him as he said husk-, 
 ily: 
 
 "I've aged, yes. WeU, I guess I have. The 
 responsibility was more than I expected." 
 
 "How much!" asked Loris, opening the 
 check-book. 
 
 Drew raised his eyes to the ceUing. A faint 
 smUe brightened his olive skin and brought out 
 the fullness of his cheeks. 
 
 "Five thousand dollars," he said, without 
 glancing at Loris. 
 
 She dipped the pen into the ink weU, leaned 
 her elbow on the leaf of the writing desk and 
 hastily scratched a check with angular writing 
 which had certainly been cultivated in a select 
 boarding school. She turned, waved the check 
 in the air, then rose and advanced toward the 
 detective, who had not lowered his eyes. 
 
 "Thank you," she said, holding out the ob- 
 long of tinted paper. "I want to thank you." 
 
 Nichols stared at the detective. The soldier's 
 eyes were like bayonets beneath a parapet. He 
 had thought the figure rather high. Loris had 
 no one to advise her save himself and the pres- 
 ence of Drew had tied his tongue. 
 
"THE END" 297 
 
 "I want to thank you," repeated Loris. 
 
 Drew lowered Ms eyes and reached for the 
 check. He glanced at it, started folding two 
 edges, then smiled brightly as he crossed the 
 room, picked np the mother-of-pearl penholder 
 and dipped it into the ink. 
 
 "I'll endorse it," he said, flattening out the 
 check with his palm. "I'll endorse it so that it 
 can be transferred." 
 
 "To whom?" asked Loris. 
 
 "Why, to where it belongs. Do you think 
 that I could take it? It's too much in the first 
 place. In the second place I'm going to do my 
 fuU bit from now on. What do you say, if we 
 endorse this over to the American Red Cross? 
 It'll buy beds and bandajges and it'll help out 
 aU around I'* 
 
 Loris lifted her eyes beneath her down drop- 
 ping lashes. She smiled with tiny puckerings 
 at the comers of her mouth. The glance was so 
 archly sweet that Drew felt it was more than a 
 reward. He caught her mood and hastily 
 dashed off his signature across the back of the 
 check. 
 
 "You present it to them," he said. "Take it 
 with my compliments to the treasurer of your 
 own division. I'll venture they will not ques- 
 tion the signature." 
 
 Nichols' hand crept out. It clasped over 
 Drew's fingers in a soldier's grip. The two 
 
298 .WHISPEEING WIEES 
 
 men faced each other. Drew reached up his left 
 arm and patted the captain on the shoulder. 
 "Two bars," he said. "I hope to see stars 
 there," he added sincerely. "Stars, when you 
 come back from the conquest of Berlin." 
 
 "They'll be there!" declared Loris with 
 flashing eyes. ' * Harry will get them ! ' * 
 
 Delaney peered through the portieres despite 
 his instructions to the contrary. 
 
 "AU set, Chief," he said. "I hear Fosdick 
 downstairs." 
 
 "Coming," said Drew, as he turned away 
 from Loris and Nichols. 
 
 The two detectives paused in the center of 
 the room. The mound under the splendid rug 
 held their eyes for a fleeting moment. The ends 
 of the telephone wires lay across the hard-wood 
 floor. They glanced at these. 
 
 "No trace!" said Drew. "We needn't tell 
 Fosdick much. Come on!" 
 
 Delaney held out the detective's coat and 
 hat. Drew thrust his arms into his silk-lined 
 sleeves, pulled the hat down over his eyes and 
 swung as the big operative turned his shoulder. 
 
 "Look," whispered Delaney. 
 
 Loris Stockbridge and her lover stood under 
 the glow from the soft clusters of the inner 
 room of the suite. The captain held his peaked 
 oap in his right hand. He also was departing. 
 
"THE END" 299 
 
 "Turtle-doves," Delaney breathed mth al- 
 most pride. 
 
 "All I" said Drew. "Ah, my friend, you 
 must remember that we were once that way our- 
 selves. But now-— but now, Delaney — ^there is a 
 thing which is sweeter than love's young dream. 
 It is a tired man's sleep. I thiak I have earned 
 mine to-night I" 
 
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 Africa, marries wealthy Diana Rivers, in order to help her 
 ' fulfill the conditions of her uncle's will, and how they finally 
 come to love each other and are reunited after experiences 
 that soften and purify. 
 
 GrOSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHESS, NeW Yc«K 
 
ETHEL M. DELL'S NOVELS 
 
 ■ay b* had wktravar baoka an aold. Ask for Gronet * Dunlaii's NsL 
 
 THE LAMP IN THE DESERT 
 
 The scene of this splendid stGiy is kid in India and 
 tells of the lamp of love that continues to shine through , 
 all sorts of tribulations to final happiness. 
 
 GREATHEART 
 
 The story of a cripple whose deformed body conceals 
 a Boble souL 
 
 THE HUNDREDTH CHANCE 
 
 A hero who worked to win even when there was onlv 
 " a hundredth chance." 
 
 THE SWINDLER 
 
 The story of a "bad man's" soul revealed by i. 
 woman's faith. 
 
 THE TIDAL WAVE 
 
 Tales of love and of women who learned to know the 
 true from the false. 
 
 THE SAFETY CURTAIN 
 
 A very vivid love story of India. The volume also 
 contains four other long stories of equal interest. 
 
 Grosset & DuNi-AP, Publishers, New York 
 
ELEANOR H. PORTER'S NOVELS 
 
 Miiy li» had wlnrave r books sra sold. Ask for Grossat ft Dunlap's list. 
 
 JUST DAVID 
 
 The tale of a loveable boy and the place he comes to 
 fill in the hearts of the gm£E farmer folk to whose care he 
 is left. 
 
 THE ROAD TO UNDERSTANDING 
 A compelling romance of love and marriage. 
 
 OH, MONEY ! MONEY 1 
 
 Stanley Fulton, a wealthy bachelpr, to test the disposi- 
 
 tions of his relatives, sends them each a check for 1 
 000, and then as plain John Smith comes among them to 
 watch the result of his experiment. 
 
 SIX STAR RANCH 
 
 A wholesome story of a club of six girls and their sum- 
 mer on Six Star Ranch. 
 
 DAWN 
 
 The story of a blind boy whose courage leads him 
 through the gulf of despair into a final victory gained by 
 dedicating his life to the service of blind soldiers. 
 
 ACROSS THE YEARS 
 
 Short stories of our own kind and of our own people. 
 Contains some of the best writing Mrs. Porter has done. 
 
 THE TANGLED THREADS 
 
 In these stories we find the concentrated charm and 
 tenderness of all her other books. 
 
 THE TIE THAT BINDS 
 
 Intensely human stories told with Mrs. Porter's won- 
 derful takent for warm and vivid character drawing. 
 
 Grosset & DuNLAP, Publishers, New York 
 
"STORM COUNTRY" BOOKS BY 
 
 GRACE MILLER WHITE 
 
 Hay bs had whersvar books era sold. Ask for Brosset ft Dunlap's list. 
 
 .'JUDY OF ROGUES' HARBOR 
 
 ■^^™^~^*^ ■■ ■ — ^— 
 
 Judy's untutored ideas of God, her love of wild tli^ngSj ■ 
 her faith in life are quite as inspiring as those of Tess. 
 Her faith and sincerity catch at your heart strings. This 
 book has all of the mystery and tense action of the Other 
 Storm Country books. 
 
 TESS OF THE STORM COUNTRY 
 
 It was as Tess, beautiful, wild, impetuous, that Mary 
 Fickford made her reputation as a motion picture actress. 
 How love acts upon a temperament such as hers — a tem- 
 perament that makes a woman an angel or an outcast, ac- 
 cording to the character of the man she loves— is the 
 theme of the story. 
 
 THE SECRET OF THE STORM COUNTRY 
 
 The sequel to " Tess of the Storm Country," with the 
 same wild background, with its haif-gypsy life of the squat- 
 ters — ^tempestuous, pas^onate, brooding. Tess learns the 
 " secret " of her birth and finds happiness and love throt^b 
 her botmdless faith in life. 
 
 FROM THE VALLEY OF THE MISSING 
 
 A haunting story with its scene laid near the cotmtry 
 familiar to readers of " Tess of the Storm Country." 
 
 ROSE O' PARADISE 
 
 " Jinny " Singleton, wild, lovely, lonely, but with a pas- > 
 sionate yearning for music, grows up in the house of Lafe 
 Grahdoken, a crippled cobbler of the Storm Country. Her 
 romance is full of power and glory and tenderness. 
 
 Atk for Complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copsrighled FlcHon 
 
 Grosset & DuNLAP, Publishers, New York 
 
THE NOVELS OF 
 GRACE LIVINGSTON HILL LUTZ 
 
 Um H In4 «i<Mnvir kMta an mU. A(k to teowit • Danlw'* IM. 
 
 THE BEST MAN 
 
 Throu^ a strange series of adventUEM a yoong man finds 
 * himself propelled up the aide of a church and inanied to a 
 Btraage giri. 
 
 A VOICE IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 On her vray West the heroine stepa oS by miatidce at a lonv^r I 
 watertank into a maze of thrilling^ events. i 
 
 THE ENCHANTED BARN 
 
 Every member of the family will enjoy this spirited chronicle 
 of a young girl's resonrcefolness and pluck, and the secret •{ 
 the "enchanted" bam. 
 
 THE WITNESS 
 
 The fascinating story of the enomoos duuige an incident 
 wrought in a man's life. 
 
 MARCIA SCHUYLER 
 
 A picture of ideal girlhood set in the time of foH shirta and 
 poke bonnets. 
 
 LO, MICHAEL! 
 
 A story of nnf ailing appeal to all who love and ondcrstand bsys. 
 
 THE MAN OF THE DESERT 
 
 An intensely moving love story of a man of the desert and & 
 girl of the East picture^ against the backgroand of the Far WesL 
 
 PHOEBE DEANE 
 
 A tense and charming love story, told with a grace aad a fer. 
 vor with which only Mrs. L«ttz cowd tell it. 
 
 ' DAWN OF THE MORNING 
 
 A roaaance of the last century with aU of its oId-faiA»a*cd 
 chann. A conapamoa volauae to "Marcia Schaylu'" and 
 "Phoebe Deane." 
 
 Atk for CempUU fm IM rf G. & D. Popular CoftrtghUi f Mian 
 GvxasBB & jyuxcLAT, PuBUBziass, Now YiaRK 
 
RALPH CONNOR'S STORIES 
 
 OF THE NORTHWEST 
 
 Mv be bad whtnvw beaks are sold. Ask for Grosset t Danlag's H*t 
 
 THE SKY PILOT IN NO MAN'S LAND 
 
 The clean-hearted, stroDg-limbed man of the West leaves 
 tuB hills and forests to fi^t the battle for freedom in the 
 old world. 
 BLACK ROCK 
 
 A story of strong men io the mountains of the West. 
 THE SKY PILOT 
 
 A story of cowboy life, abounding in the freshest humor, 
 the truest tenderness and the finest courage. 
 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 A tale of the foothills and of the man who came to them 
 to lend a hand to tiie lonely men and women who needed a 
 protector. 
 THE MAN FROM GLENGARRY 
 
 This narrative brings us into contact with elemental and 
 volcanic human nature and with a hero whose power breathes 
 from every word. 
 GLENGARRY SCHOOL DAYS 
 
 In this rough country of Glengarry, Ralph Connor has 
 found human nature in the rough. 
 THE DOCTOR 
 
 , The story of a "preacher-doctor" whom big men and 
 reckless men loved for hki unsulfish life among them. 
 THE FOREIGNER 
 
 A tale of the Saskatchewan and of a " foreigner " who 
 xnade a brave and winning fight for manhood and love. 
 CORPORAL CAMERON 
 
 This spl^did type of the upright, out-of-door mam afoout 
 which Ralph Connor builds all his stories, appears agam m 
 ' this book. _ 
 
 Grosset & Dtjioap, Publishess, New York 
 
JAMES OLIVER CURWOOD'S 
 
 STORIES OF ADVENTURE 
 
 May bg hail wlieraver boote ara «olJ. Ask for Sfasset & Dunlip's list 
 
 THE RIVE R' S END 
 
 A story of the Royal Mounted Police. 
 THE GOLDEN SNARE 
 
 TTarilling advantures in the Par Northland. 
 NOMADS OF THE NORTH 
 
 The story of a bear-cub and a dog. 
 
 KAZAN 
 
 The tale of a "quarter-strain wolf and tlTree-quarters husky" torn 
 between the call of the human and his wild mate. 
 
 BAREE, SON OF KAZAN 
 
 The story of the son of the blind Grey Wolf and the gallant part 
 he played in the lives of a man and a woman. 
 
 THE COURAGE OF CAPTAIN PLUM 
 
 The story of the King of Beaver Island, » Mormon colony, and bis . 
 battle with Captain Plum. 
 
 THE DANGER TRAIL 
 
 A tale of love, Indian vengeance, and a nTrstery of the North. 
 THE HUNTED WOMAN 
 
 A tale of a grealt fight in the ' ' valley of gaUA " f or a woman. 
 
 THE FLOWER OF THE NORTH 
 
 The story of Fort o' God, where the wild flnvor of the wilderness 
 is blended with the courtly atmosphere of France. 
 
 THE GRIZZLY KING 
 
 I The story of Thor, the big grizzly. 
 
 ISOBEL 
 ^ A love story of the Far North. 
 
 THE WOLF HUNTERS 
 
 ' A thrilling tale of adventure in the Canadian wilderness. 
 
 THE GOLD HUNTERS 
 The story of adventure in the Hudson Bay wilds. 
 
 THE COURAGE OF MARGE O'DOONE 
 Filled with exciting incidents in the land of strong men and women. 
 
 BACK TO GOD'S COUNTRY 
 
 A thrilling story of the Far North. The great Photoplay was made 
 from this book. 
 
 GaossET & DuNLAP, PuBL-K'HEats, New Yoss 
 
ZANE GREY'S NOVELS 
 
 Hay bt had wlicnver Iraofci ira sold. Ask tor Grosset & Dunlap's UsL 
 
 THE MAN OF THK FOREST 
 
 THE DESERT OF WHEAT' 
 
 ^a 
 
 THE U. P. TRAIL 
 
 WILDFIRE 
 
 THE BORDER LEGION* 
 
 - - ■ ... -J 
 
 THE RAINBOW TRAIL 
 THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERT 
 RIDERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE 
 THE LIGHT OF WESTERN STARS 
 THE LAST OF THE PLAINSMEN 
 THE LONE STAR RANGER 
 DESERT GOLD 
 BETTY ZANE 
 
 LAST OF THE GREAT SCOUTS 
 
 The life story of "Buffalo Bill" by his sister Helen Cody 
 Wetmore, with Foreword and conclusion by Zane Grey. 
 
 ZANE GREY'S BOOKS FOR BOYS 
 
 KEN WARD IN THE JUNGLE 
 THE YOUNG LION HUNTER 
 THE YOUNG FORESTER 
 THE YOUNG PITCHER 
 THE SHORT STOP 
 
 THE RED-HEADED OUTFIELD AND OTHER 
 BASEBALL STORIES 
 
 Grosset & DuNLAP, Publishers, New York 
 
JACKSON GREGORY'S NOV ELS 
 
 May be had wherever books are sold. AsK for Grosset & Dunlap's list. 
 
 THE EVERLASTING WHISPER 
 
 The story of a strong man's struggle against savage nature and human- 
 ity, and of a beautiful girl's regeneration from a spoiled child of wealth into 
 a courageous strong-willed woman. 
 
 DESERT VALLEY 
 
 A college professor sets out with his daughter to find gold. They meet 
 a rancher who loses his heart, and become involved in a feud. An intenself 
 exciting story. 
 
 MAN TO MAN 
 
 Encircled with enemies, distrusted, Steve defends his rights. How he 
 won his game and the girl he loved is the story filled wtth breathless 
 situations. 
 
 THE BELLS OF SAN JUAN 
 
 Dr. Virginia Page is forced to go with the sheriff on a night journey 
 into the strongholds of a lawless band. Thrills and excitement sweep the 
 reader along to the end. 
 
 JUDITH OF BLUE LAKE RANCH 
 
 Judith Sanford part owner of a cattle ranch realizes she is bebg robbed 
 by her foreman. iHow, with the help of Bud Lee, she checkmates Trevor's 
 scheme makes fascinating reading. 
 
 THE SHORT CUT 
 
 Wayne is sus[>ected of killing his brother after a violent quarrel. Finan- 
 cial complications, villains, a horse-race and beautiful Wanda, all go to make 
 up a thrilling romance. 
 
 THE JOYOUS TROUBLE MAKER 
 
 A reporter sets up housekeeping close to Beatrice's Ranch much to her 
 chagrin. There is " another man " who complicates matters, but all turns 
 out as it should in this tale of romance and adventure. 
 
 SIX FEET FOUR 
 
 Beatrice Waverly is robbed of $5,000 and suspicion fastens upon Buck 
 Thornton, but she soon realizes he is not guilty. Intensely exciting, here is a 
 real story of the Great Far West. 
 
 yyOLF BREED 
 
 No Luck Drennan had grown hard through loss of faith in men he had 
 trusted. A woman hater and sharp of tongue, he finds a match in Ygeme 
 whose clever fencing wins the admiration and love of the " Lone Wolf." 
 
 Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York