low.... Says he was
no good.... Says he was tapping joints instead of soldering them. Says
he only hired him on account of the shortage of electricians and
helpers ... because of the last Army draft."

"Did you get his address?"

"I got it, Chief.... It is over on Fifty-third Street near the
River.... I didn't go.... I wanted to see you first.... There's more."

"Out with it!"

"The superintendent says he never sent that trouble-hunter over here
last night.... There's a record of sending another man named Frisby."

"Did you see--Frisby?"

"I did, Chief."

"What did he say?" Drew's fingers had clutched the operative's arm.
"What did he say?" he repeated grimly.

"Said, that Albert--that's the trouble-hunter--had stopped him on the
way over here and took his place.... Said, he was satisfied.... Albert
could have _all_ the jobs on a night like last night. That's just what
Frisby said, Chief!"

Drew loosened his fingers from Delaney's arm and turned slowly. The
portieres swayed slightly. They shook anew. They parted at the center
and revealed Loris Stockbridge. Her eyes burned the soft gloom with
glazed interrogation. She raised her white hand and pressed back her
hair from her forehead. She stepped forward with her knees striking
against the stiff satin of her skirt. She swung from Delaney toward
Drew.

"What were you saying?" she asked imperiously. "What did you say about
a trouble-man? What was it, please?"

"I'm lookin' for one, Miss!" declared Delaney. "I was over at the
telephone company's exchange lookin' for the lad that was here last
night and fixed the junction-box in the yard back of the house. Mr.
Drew wants him."

Loris turned toward the detective. "You want him?" she asked softly.
"What do you want him for? Please tell me. I don't like him, at all."

It was Drew's turn to draw in his breath. He eyed the girl. He tried to
fathom the reason for her simple question and her objection. "Miss
Loris," he said, shrugging his square shoulders. "Why, it's a slight
matter. The man has disappeared. We can't find him. He's
flown--perhaps."

"Is he a little chap with a satchel and a testing set?" she asked. "A
nice-mannered, soft-voiced little man who was so obliging, and yet
so--oh! I don't know what I have against him. He's so sly--don't you
think so, Mr. Dr--e--w?"

"When did you ever see him?" asked Drew, feeling the blood rising to
his cheeks at a thought which surged through his brain.

"Meet hi