with candor. "I'm not a
regular. I'm only a volunteer. Mr. Drew has me along to do the heavy
work. He says what I can't lift I can drag."

Loris smiled as the maid answered by opening the door to a crack. "Tea
for four," she said. "Pekoe and tea biscuits--unless----"

She turned and widened her eyes prettily. "Would you have anything
else?" she asked Drew.

"Strong tea!" exclaimed the detective. "I'll take 'hops,' as we call
it. Make it very strong and then we'll settle some of these questions.
My head is none too clear. I've been under a strain. I'm frank to admit
that!"

The tea arrived within ten minutes. Drew had prevented Delaney from
'phoning for the coroner or to Fosdick. "Some matters to clear up," he
whispered suggestively. "We'll leave this place with the case entirely
completed."

Nichols arranged two chairs about a tiny teak-wood table. He had set
this table within the bay of an alcove. The space was small, with
Delaney's big feet very much in the way.

Drew poised his cup and glanced from Loris to Nichols. Their heads were
very close together. The blue-black luster of the girl's hair was a
perfect contrast to the officer's blond pompadour which was slightly
disarranged. The light from above haloed with the soft fire of frosted
glass and cut prisms.

The detective upended the cup, drank deeply, then passed it over to
Delaney. "Another, please," he said, watching the operative struggling
with a saucer which was far too fragile for his thick fingers. "One
more cup," he added. "No sugar."

Loris leaned from the cushion at the small of her back and glanced
toward the portieres with thought-laden eyes. "Poor misguided fellow,"
she said softly. "I feel uneasy, Mr. Drew. Somehow or other I feel that
we were partly responsible for his death. I wish it hadn't happened."

"I'll agree with you. We must forget more than we remember in this
world. Our time is short. The coroner and the Central Office squad will
have to be notified. I don't doubt that Fosdick will be surprised at
the turn in the case. He has some of your servants locked up, you
know!"

Loris pressed closer to Nichols. "I wish that body wasn't in there,"
she whispered. "Suppose he had other confederates who would break in?"

"He worked alone," assured Drew, finishing the second cup and setting
it down. "I found no evidence of another crook. He worked single-handed
and single-minded. He made one mistake. Morphy was a bungler. A bungler
is a