o as I say."

"I don't know about that. I give orders here. What do you want that
done for? I thought you wanted a number on the 'phone. I thought you
would get somebody on the wire who would explain everything."

"Everything will be explained, Inspector. Everything! I told you the
jig was up with me. I mean it, too. There's nothing left but the
truth."

Drew wound the handcuff chain tighter about his left wrist. He braced
his feet and turned to Delaney. "Go downstairs," he said, "and call up
this number. Do what this fellow says. The number is Gramercy Hill
9764."

Loris and Nichols lifted their brows as they turned toward each other.
"I'm afraid," said the girl. "Something is not right, Harry."

"It's the only way we'll ever find out what this man means. If they
take him away without letting him talk over the 'phone we'll never
know. Leave things to Mr. Drew. He's armed! I'm armed! There's no
danger!"

"Get downstairs to the library!" Drew ordered. "Do what this man wants.
Shout into the transmitter. Go now!"

Delaney lunged through the tapestries and unlocked the door to the
hall. He paused there in thought. He turned and glanced back.

"Hurry!" exclaimed Drew. "Hurry now!"

The big operative cursed audibly as he descended the two flights of
carpeted steps. He nodded to the Central Office man at the library
door. He passed inside, rounded the table and stood by the 'phone. He
picked up the receiver. His eyes wandered along the floor as he waited.
A dark spot showed on the hardwood. It was where the millionaire's
blood had gushed forth from the bullet hole in the base of his brain.

"Gramercy Hill 9-7-6-4!" said Delaney with a bull's voice.

"B-r-r-r-r-! B-r-r-r-r-! B-r-r-r-r-r!" sounded from the ringing-box of
the silver plated telephone in the sitting-room of Loris Stockbridge's
suite.

The prisoner pulled at the chain as he leaned toward the telephone.
"It's ringing," he said in a thin whisper. "Let me--let me listen in."

Drew studied the entire situation before he granted permission. Loris
and Nichols were framed between the silken portieres. The captain held
his army regulation revolver at his hip. Loris leaned forward with her
dark eyes smoldering and intent. The blood had left her cheeks. They
were white and tersely set. She seemed older to Drew. He smiled
reassuringly, dropped his gun to his hip, pressed it against the
prisoner and shoved him toward the 'phone as a "B-r-r-r-r-" sounded
above