"That's all!" said Drew in dismissal. "Here's a dollar. Keep still about your visit here. We may want you later."

"Want you later," repeated the magpie.

Drew turned toward Stockbridge as the lineman shuffled through the portieres. "Queer," he said. "Tall fellow, eh! That's the man who cut in and threatened you. We'll get him! I'll go out and see if Delaney has arrived. Two hours of the twelve have pa.s.sed. Ten more should see you safely out of it."

CHAPTER THREE

"THE MAN IN OLIVE-DRAB"

Triggy 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 falling 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 hurried 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 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 mansion.

Their eyes grew hard with calculation.

"She's big," repeated Drew. "You 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 operative 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 snow. Drew noticed that he had brought six men for the a.s.signment.

"Good," he said as the last operative disappeared. "Six is better than five. This thing is widening out. I wouldn't wonder if we needed more, before the night pa.s.ses."

"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!"

"He's retired. It's a case, perhaps, of thieves falling out in high places. Remember how Stockbridge beat Morphy to the District Attorney and told all he knew, and went before the Grand Jury? Morphy may be behind this threat-by-wire."

"Morphy's behind bars, Chief!"

"I know that. He's always dangerous, though."

"Another old devil," 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!"

"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 motioned across the street. They plunged through the snow with heads down. They entered the iron-grilled gate. Drew touched a b.u.t.ton 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 mansion.

"All right," said Drew. "All right, butler. This is one of my operatives. Let us in."

The butler led the way through the hall 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 satisfaction as he stared at the two resolute detectives 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. Delaney, this is your case as well as mine. Your old prisoner may be involved."

"Morphy ain't in 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 watch.

"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 particular 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 him show you around. I've searched in here."

Delaney started toward the portieres as Stockbridge reached down and pressed the floor-b.u.t.ton with his finger.

"Just a moment," said Drew with afterthought. "You better knock on Miss Stockbridge'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."