The door swung wider. Drew lunged through and turned. "What's new?" he asked, pointing a thumb over his shoulder. "Are those servants still under arrest?"

"Some of them, Inspector," grunted the Central Office man. "I can't talk much. Fosd.i.c.k gave me h.e.l.l 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 Fosd.i.c.k 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, will be delivered to-morrow. She never ordered any coffin, Chief. Ain't that dirt--to a girl like that? What d'ye think of it?"

Drew's answer to Delaney's question 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 reception-hall of the suite.

The detective paused on the threshold of a larger room. He dropped his hand from Delaney's arm. He stabbed sharp glances here and there about the interior. He widened his eyes as they came to rest upon a further doorway, which was hung with soft tapestries gathered to the side-walls by cords of silk. Beyond this doorway, like the vista of some rare painting, shone an inner light of a woman's shrine.

Silver and pearl and old rose blended into a bower such as is found in palaces. Tiny medallions 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 splendid 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 had been worked out in black and white with a suggestion of green-in-gold.

He forgot the material things of that apartment 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 pa.s.sing 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 lavender 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 opening. "Who's in there?" he asked.

"Harry--Harry Nichols. I telephoned for 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 all 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, turning 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 guiltily.

"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 headquarters," 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'll stay here!" he said masterly.

"Though all the demons in h.e.l.l are closing in on you, we'll stick.

We'll get them this time! I've almost got my man. If he moves his p.a.w.ns 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 are doing his will. Your 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 almost succeeded. The trouble is, that time is short. What was in that letter?"

Loris turned toward the inner room. Delaney, followed by Harry Nichols in full uniform, appeared. The operative held out a handful of sc.r.a.pped paper.

"Ain't much to learn here, Chief. It's pretty well torn up. I remember what it said, though."

"Repeat it!"

"It was from the Hardwood Casket Company of Jersey City. It was dated this morning. It said that the coffin Miss Stockbridge ordered for the lady who was about to die in her family, would be delivered to-morrow afternoon by express at her town house, as ordered."

"The curs!" 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 sc.r.a.ps."

Delaney sorted them into a small stack and pa.s.sed 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 genuine.

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 thoughtfully. "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 fighting very high-cla.s.s devils."

"It doesn't seem real!" blurted Harry Nichols. "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 Stockbridge. He rubbed his hands softly. "No more danger," he warned in a confident voice. "We've got twenty Central 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 father," Loris suggested without thought. "You did--you remember? You were in the library and he felt so confident nothing would happen. Something 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 Delaney. "I've looked everywhere, Chief. Leave that to me!"

Drew glanced at Loris, who had stepped toward Harry Nichols. He studied the picture the two made, with their heads close together. The captain held himself defiantly, but with that certain polish which goes with a fondness for the things of life worth having. He had chosen a rather pretty girl, and upon her he had lavished his attentions. He had defied Stockbridge! This was motive enough for a crime. He was not the criminal, decided Drew. There was that to the captain's resolute, though thick lips, and his wide eyes, which a.s.sured 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 commandingly, "had better go into the library! I mean Miss Stockbridge's writing-room. Stay there, please, till Mr. Delaney and I notify you. Who else, beside we four, are in this part of the house?"

"Only the maid," said Loris.

"Go in, please, and wait. I'm going to lock everything up. We're going to take every precaution this time. Frankly, I don't see how any agency can do more than we have already. Were we dealing with ordinary crooks or blackmailers, I would have you take a taxi and move to some Fifth Avenue hotel. But it seems an unnecessary risk. This is the safest place in the world, despite the letter from the casket company and the former warning. What man can enter this place to-night--without our permission?"