ave been so frightened by the shot which was fired in
the library, that it recalled the words used by Stockbridge before the
shot was fired. These words, in my opinion, tell us that the
millionaire was 'phoning to some individual, probably the
whispering-voiced man. This individual and Ah, Sing! or Ah, Sing Sing!
or Ah, Singing! or Ossining! are closely allied. Now who of
Stockbridge's enemies does that fit?"

Drew rose to his feet and dusted his knees. "Is that clear?" he asked.

"Clear as mud, Chief! I don't get it yet!"

"You will," said the detective, dropping down in his chair and reaching
for his papers. "See these," he added, swiveling and darting a quick
glance at the bird-cage. "These, Delaney, are a list of the old man's
known enemies. I have compiled this list from the secretary's
statements, my own newspaper reading, the facts we gained at Morphy's
trial, and from what Stockbridge told me in the library before he was
slain." Drew counted the list with a steady finger. "There's seven," he
said.

"Is that all! I thought there was more 'an that!"

"No! Seven is the number! He was well hated as you will see. First and
foremost we have Mortimer Morphy, who is serving from ten to twenty
years in state prison, with other indictments hanging over his
iron-gray head. He's the captain of them all. He lacks soul, conscience
and heart. 'The Wolf of the Ticker' they used to call him. I had the
warden on the wire this morning. He's ready to aid justice to the
limit. He says that Morphy, or rather Convict 87313, I think they call
them inmates up there, is well and working. He's in charge of the books
in the front office."

"He'd never keep any books for me!" declared Delaney.

Drew nodded. "Me, either," he said. "I have heard too much about his
past to trust his future. Stockbridge always feared him."

"Does he fit what the black crow said?"

"He does, most certainly! Sing Sing and Morphy are linked together in
every way. Morphy must have been mentioned on the wire and Stockbridge
shouted, 'What, in Sing Sing?' or words to the same meaning."

"Go on," said Delaney, glancing at the magpie with round eyes.

"Then comes Vogel, who was at state's prison, but whom they transferred
to the hospital at Glendale, where he is said to be dying of
tuberculosis."

"I remember him. A little runt with a big nose. That might be the
whispering voice, Chief, if he's got T. B."

"Hardly! I also had Glendale on the 'phone, or