Part 9 (1/2)
”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 moribund terror. It died; then resumed its shrieking. It leaped the octaves from no note to a blare of a soul in agony. Suddenly it struck down the tone scale with descending steps of mocking laughter._
”Look out!” shouted Drew, bending his knees and gliding back to the wall of the hallway. ”Look out!” he repeated.
”What are you goin' to do?” asked Delaney huskily.
”Do? I'm going to break the door down! 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 repeated the smas.h.i.+ng blow.
”Hold on, Chief,” Delaney said. ”That's no use. The door is two inches thick. I had a good look at it. Wait!”
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. Look out--everybody!”
Delaney waved the servants away. He 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 rained 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 bending down.
He straightened. He enlarged the chopped place with his fingers. He ripped off the splinters until there was room for a palm 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.”
”Remember that!” snapped Drew, squaring his shoulders. ”Everybody remember that. It may be important!”
Drew pressed Delaney aside. He seized the gold k.n.o.b and turned it slowly. He waited for a moment. Nothing sounded save the loud breathing of the butler and the other servants who were crowded in the hall.