Part 34 (1/2)
”Who's there?” asked Drew.
”Delaney, Chief!”
”All right! Just a moment.”
The detective glanced through the slit in the tapestries, saw that Nichols and Loris were across the room, then twisted the b.u.t.terfly-latch, at the same time he thrust in the flat key and turned the lock.
The door swung open. Delaney's huge bulk blocked the way. He half turned, cursed savagely, and clutched a pipe-stem neck with rude fingers. ”Come along, you!” he boomed. ”Get in there!”
The form of a man hurtled by Drew, fell and rose, then fell again beyond the tapestries in the center of the sitting room. Drew, like some lithe cat, was over him with a drawn gun. Delaney puffed across the rugs and tried to speak as the detective leaned and studied the chalk-pale face below s.h.i.+elding cuffed hands which were raised impotently.
”The trouble-man!” exclaimed Loris fearsomely.
A Central Office detective slouched through the door, deposited a kit of lineman's tools on the floor near the tapestries, then retired discreetly.
”It's him!” said Drew. ”Please get back, Miss Stockbridge. We're going to fix this fellow.”
”Oh, please don't strike him.”
”Please--Miss Stockbridge. I'll promise nothing in this connection.
This is the man who foully murdered your father.”
Loris shrank back and against Nichols' extended arm. Drew glanced at her with swift concern. He dropped his eyes to the man at his feet.
”What happened?” he asked Delaney. ”Has this fellow said anything? Done any talking?”
Delaney glared at the trouble-man. ”Never a word has he said, Chief.
He's a clam. But----”
”What's that? Go on, Delaney!”
”Why, Chief, I wouldn't have brought him here if he hadn't said to Morphy over the 'phone that _'it'_ was fixed in her room. Now what does he mean by that _'it'?”_
”We'll find out!” declared Drew, dropping to the prisoner's side.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
”THE PRISONER SPEAKS”
The detective wasted no time searching the trouble-hunter's pockets.
His skilled fingers drew forth two envelopes, a note book and a small roll of money, the least of which was ten-dollar bills and the greatest, on the inside, spread out to three staring noughts and a one in front of these.
”One thousand and sixty dollars!” said Drew dryly, handing the roll to Delaney. ”This fellow's well heeled. Perhaps for a get-a-way. Take that. Now here----”
Drew tapped the envelopes with his fingers, spread them open and removed their sheets of closely-written paper.
”First letter,” he announced with raising brows, ”is from Standard Electrical Co., of Chicago, recommending Albert Jones as a capable electrician. I don't doubt it. He's capable of most anything.”
Delaney took the letter and waited with his eyes fastened upon the silent figure who had not revealed his ident.i.ty from the time of the arrest.