"Sure an' he won't say it. I know the breed of this snake. He wants nothing used against him in the trial. He'll have the evidence of us four to show that he didn't say anything. I never saw an innocent man who wouldn't talk!" "We're getting nowhere," objected Drew, taking command of the situation. "Take him out, Delaney, and turn him over to the Central Office bunch. They'll take him down to Fosdick!" The prisoner lifted his manacled hands. He dropped them after a slow glance at Drew's square jaw. "Come on!" said Delaney with a jerk backward. "Wait!" Drew and Nichols leaned forward. "Well?" asked the detective, as the prisoner bowed his head. "Well? Well?" "Is that true about my brother--Morphy?" "It is!" Drew said with ringing conviction. "It's true! He's out of this world. He's buried alive and the key has been thrown away." "The jig is up, then," said the trouble-man, turning toward the telephone. "Let me telephone," he said in a whisper. "I want to use it," he repeated faintly. "I'll show you how that--that Stockbridge died." CHAPTER FIFTEEN "THE VOICE ON THE WIRE" The prisoner lifted his manacled hands and held them toward Drew. "Let me loose," he said, "and I'll explain everything that I've done! I want it off my mind. I won't sleep until you people are satisfied. I know you--you copper! I know Fosdick--the third degree artist." Drew frowned as he glanced at the cuffs. He scratched his dark hair and combed his fingers back toward his ears. He turned and glanced at Loris and Nichols in the opening between the two splendid rooms. "I don't like to take a chance with this fellow," he admitted. "Do you want me to, Miss Stockbridge? It's your life he was after, and he may be shamming now. You never can trust an opium addict. They have no soul." "I've as much as a copper's!" "Shut up, you!" boomed Delaney, threateningly. "Shut up! There's a lady in this room!" The prisoner clicked his cuffs together. He stared at the cheval glass and the telephone. "A lady?" he repeated through the corner of his lips. "A limb of the Stockbridge tree," he said bitterly. "I hold nothing against her. I told you that before. But we promised the old man we'll take care of her after we killed him, and she came near going--let me tell you that. I could have killed her with twenty words." "He's rambling," said Delaney, reaching for the prisoner. "The dope has gone to his head. I don't believe there's any----" "Easy, Delaney," warned Drew thoroughly on the alert. "Don't make the mistake of underestimating this fellow. He acts like a man who has repented--who wants to right some of the wrong he has done. I don't think we are taking chances in letting this fellow loose. He is unarmed. I tended to that. If he wants to 'phone--let's let him." "Your case, Chief!"