Nichols pa.s.sed 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 never thought of that. A reed attuned to a certain 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-tenth of his 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 gla.s.s.

"Stopped snowing!" he exclaimed, coming back and clasping Delaney's arm. "You hurry downstairs and telephone Fosd.i.c.k that we are waiting for him. Tell him to notify the coroner that there's a subject here which will interest him. We'll not explain everything to either the coroner or Fosd.i.c.k. 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?"

"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 Stockbridge, 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 on my part."

"You couldn't think of everything."

"I underestimated the gravity of the situation."

"Perhaps father didn't explain how dangerous 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 German 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 from Loris with a bow. He allowed the tea to cool as he glanced at the two lovers. They had grown closer together over the time of the investigation. Nichols 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 back!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the detective, adjusting his coat collar and stroking his mustache. "I'll see to that if I have to go over Fosd.i.c.k'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 portieres rubbing his hands in the manner of a man who was well-satisfied with his errand.

"I got them!" he boomed, glancing from Drew to Nichols and then letting his eyes shine on Loris. "I got Fosd.i.c.k, first. I told him what I thought 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 sc.r.a.p 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 Fosd.i.c.k."

"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 the operative, pa.s.sing 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 at 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 very 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 small 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 warehouse, for instance, is equal to a victory for the Kaiser. My agency is almost exclusively devoted to Government work. We never mention it, though."

"I see," said Loris, reaching into a pigeonhole 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 chain. "I don't think you owe me anything in this case."

"Oh, but I do!"

"I don't think so. Your father retained me. He was--was slain through my own carelessness. 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.