ot an idea!"

"What is it, Chief?" asked the operative as he drew on the knots until
he had gathered the corners together. "What's new? I can't see anything
in sight, at-tall, at-tall. One man--that's all I see."

"And that's _all_ I see--the trouble-hunter--Delaney!"

"But what about the tall guy who looked like a German? The fellow the
trouble-man saw getting over the fence and beating it for Fifth
Avenue?"

"He didn't leave any tracks!"

"Ah, Chief, get out! That ain't human!"

Drew paced the floor with his hands clasped behind him. He wheeled with
sudden energy. "Go, you!" he exclaimed with a pointing finger. "Hurry
out of this house and telephone Gramercy Hill Exchange. Tell the
superintendent to send over that trouble-man. I want to compare these
prints with his shoes. He couldn't have been lying. There's no object
in that! But, Delaney, how could a man tap in on that junction-box and
never leave prints in the snow? That's my question!"

"How could one shoot a man in a sealed room, Chief? There ain't much
difference!"

Drew snatched out his watch. "Hurry," he said. "Get over to Gramercy
Hill Exchange--it's only three blocks from here. Ask Jack Nefe, or
whoever is in charge, for the trouble-man who fixed the phone last
night. He'll be able to tell us what part of the fence the tall fellow,
who looked like a German, got over. Perhaps he wasn't at the
junction-box at all!"

"Who, Chief?"

"The tall fellow! Perhaps he was skulking about the windows at the
back."

"Perhaps he was a ghost," said Delaney to himself as he lunged through
the tapestries toward the staircase which led down from the third floor
of the mansion.

Drew crossed the room and rapped softly on a panel by the portieres
which covered the opening to the reading-room and library. He heard a
muffled word of warning. Loris Stockbridge glided across the rugs and
peered out. Her face was set and tear-stained. She had been sobbing
upon an olive-drab shoulder.

"Pardon," said Drew with a slight sigh. "I beg pardon, Miss
Stockbridge. I want to look over the sitting-room and examine the
windows. Where is the maid?"

Loris touched her eyes with a handkerchief drawn from her breast. She
replaced this and nodded over her shoulder. She parted the portieres
with her unjeweled right hand. "The maid," she said softly, "is in her
room. That's back of this reading-room. Shall I call her?"

"You and Mr. Nichols come in here, please," said Drew. "I'll