Part 41 (2/2)

”I got them!” he boomed, glancing from Drew to Nichols and then letting his eyes s.h.i.+ne 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.

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