"I'd like to see one!" blurted Delaney.

Harry Nichols offered his arm to Loris. They pa.s.sed 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 pa.s.sed 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 little reception hall and the bedroom over there? That's a bedroom, isn't it?"

"Sure, Chief! I frisked it good. The Central Office men were up here early in the morning. They went through everything. Fosd.i.c.k, they say, was like a bull. He said the thing couldn't be done."

"It _was_ done!"

"Did you get any clue, Chief, as to how it was done?"

"It's as much a mystery as ever. But we're tr.i.m.m.i.n.g 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 out how it was done!"

"Oh!" Delaney's expression was thought-laden. "Just thought of it, Chief. I got them plaster-of-paris casts. 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 cook brought to me."

"Go down and get them!"

Delaney hurried out through the tapestries of the room. Drew started his search of the apartment 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 unmarked. 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 tapestries--curtains and portieres--sheathings of yellow hand-painted silk from Nippon--rare ceramics and cloisonnes--a huge peach-blow vase of the Ming dynasty and a hundred little jade and jasper knick-knacks were the outward evidence of wealth.

He opened the plate-gla.s.s cases and peered inside. He crawled under a couch and backed out dusting his hands. He tapped with slow knuckles a long cheval-gla.s.s by the side of which was a tiny gold-bracket and a silver-plated 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 suspicion!

Entering a simple bedroom, with its tiled flooring and its single white bed, he spared this as he pa.s.sed to the bath beyond, which had no outlet save a ventilating shaft securely barred by a bronze grating of close, fantastic-scrolled mesh.

Delaney's heavy steps were heard in the reception hall as Drew finished. Striding out into the larger room he frowned as the operative deposited a blanket upon a Persian rug and began to untie its corners.

"I got 'em here, Chief," explained the a.s.sistant 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 guy at that junction-box before the freezing started. He 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 footprint. 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. "Right foot," he said. "Now let's see the others!"

"Here's a left foot, Delaney," added the detective slowly. "Only one left and four right. That might happen. You didn't take them all. Well, bundle them up and plant them somewhere. Put them under that couch, out of sight. I've got an idea!"

"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--the trouble-hunter--Delaney!"

"But what about the tall guy who looked like a German? The fellow 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!"

Drew paced the floor with his hands clasped behind him. He wheeled with sudden energy. "Go, you!" he exclaimed with a pointing finger. "Hurry out of this house and telephone Gramercy Hill Exchange. Tell the superintendent 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! 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 s.n.a.t.c.hed 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 he was skulking about the windows at the back."

"Perhaps he was a ghost," said Delaney to himself as he lunged through the tapestries toward the staircase which led down from the third floor of the mansion.

Drew crossed the room and rapped softly on a panel by the portieres which covered the opening to the reading-room and library. He heard a m.u.f.fled 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 portieres with her unjeweled right hand. "The maid," she 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--remember that. It's getting late," he added with candor.

Drew allowed Harry Nichols and Loris to pa.s.s him as he held the portieres for them with a thoughtful bow. He crossed the reading-room, examined the books and cases, glanced under a low divan, and saw to it that each window was latched before he knocked lightly upon a further door which was hidden by curtains.

A maid appeared, in smart white ap.r.o.n 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 Stockbridge?" he asked.

_"Merci, Monsieur!"_ she courtesied. "It has been for zee longest time.

_Cinq--sept, annees, 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.

"Well?" asked Drew as the bulk of the big operative loomed through 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 Delaney's ear. "Out with it!"