Part 39 (1/2)

”What's that?” asked the operative.

”Out through the hole in the diaphragm,” continued Drew, ”and right into your ear or my ear, Delaney!”

”Not into mine!” exclaimed the operative. ”I'll never telephone as long as I live, Chief!”

”We'll all be careful,” said Nichols, turning toward Loris.

Drew gathered together the different parts of the telephone receiver.

”Evidence against Morphy,” he said dryly, as he dropped them into the side pocket of his coat. ”They are our Exhibit A if he ever finishes that twenty years in the cooler.”

Loris reached out her hand. ”You saved my life,” she said. ”You saved it, Mr. Drew.”

”I blundered and blundered and blundered on this case,” admitted the detective frankly. ”Now I'm going to request you to wait a few minutes before I call the coroner. Delaney has some questions. I feel sure he wants to ask me one or two.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

”THE END”

Triggy Drew's eyes shone with triumphant fire as he turned and faced the group gathered in the sitting room.

He adjusted his coat lapels, clicked his heels and smiled politely. His hand strayed up to his short-cropped mustache which was still neat and well-trimmed despite the labors of the day.

”Although the case is practically closed,” he said with concern, ”there are features which are not entirely cleared up--even in my mind.

Perhaps we have a little time,” he added, glancing at his watch. ”Let's go into the other room--away from these memories--and have a cup of tea, if Miss Stockbridge will be so kind as to order some.”

Loris glanced at Nichols. She nodded as she turned toward Drew. He moved over to the rug which covered Cuthbert Morphy's body. He stooped and adjusted this. He rose and dimmed the lights by snapping off two of the switches and turning a bulb in its socket. He hesitated as he glanced at the telephone wires which Delaney had cut.

”Central will wonder what has happened,” he said half aloud. ”The connections leading to this house have given them a lot of trouble in the last few hours. I suppose they haven't another trouble-man like this one, though?” Drew pointed toward the shadowed rug which gleamed with silk and rare woven designs.

Loris raised her hand and grasped the portieres. She shuddered slightly. She allowed her eyes to wander over the room as if for a last fleeting glance. They locked with the detective's own. She smiled with a plaintive droop to her mouth.

”I'll order the tea,” she said invitingly. ”Will you come in?”

Drew bowed and followed her through the portieres. Delaney already stood by the door which led to the maid's room. Harry Nichols had picked up a small book and was impatiently examining its pages. The soldier turned and eyed the detective.

”We'll sit down?” he asked, laying the book on a cus.h.i.+on. ”I'm a bit curious to know how you worked out a number of things. I think that Miss Stockbridge is, too.”

”I'd like to be a detective!” exclaimed Loris, gliding across the room and tapping with her knuckles on the door. ”Wouldn't you, Mr. Delaney?”

she added navely.

Delaney chuckled. ”I would, Miss,” he said with candor. ”I'm not a regular. I'm only a volunteer. Mr. Drew has me along to do the heavy work. He says what I can't lift I can drag.”

Loris smiled as the maid answered by opening the door to a crack. ”Tea for four,” she said. ”Pekoe and tea biscuits--unless----”

She turned and widened her eyes prettily. ”Would you have anything else?” she asked Drew.

”Strong tea!” exclaimed the detective. ”I'll take 'hops,' as we call it. Make it very strong and then we'll settle some of these questions.

My head is none too clear. I've been under a strain. I'm frank to admit that!”