"You took th' very words right out of my mouth," said the trouble-hunter. "He looked like a German." "Describe him! Tall, fat or small?" "I wasn't near enough to notice for sure. Tall, I think. He went out the alley and turned toward Fifth Avenue." "Could he have called us up from that junction-box?" "Sure--if he had a set of testers like this." The lineman tapped his shirt with his left hand. "He could have talked with you, but he couldn't ring your bell without a magneto or an alternating current of some kind." "Could he have cut the wires and connected them again without Central noticing anything out of the ordinary?" "He might. But who would do that, sir?" "That's all!" said Drew in dismissal. "Here's a dollar. Keep still about your visit here. We may want you later." "Want you later," repeated the magpie. Drew turned toward Stockbridge as the lineman shuffled through the portières. "Queer," he said. "Tall fellow, eh! That's the man who cut in and threatened you. We'll get him! I'll go out and see if Delaney has arrived. Two hours of the twelve have passed. Ten more should see you safely out of it." CHAPTER THREE "THE MAN IN OLIVE-DRAB" Triggy Drew stood on the marble steps of the Stockbridge mansion. The butler had just helped him on with his coat. The door had closed softly. The outer air gripped with cold that crackled. A soft snow was falling upon the city. It blurred the view of the Avenue, as seen to north and south. It wound the opposite buildings with a shroud of winter. The detective squared his shoulders, thrust his hands in his pockets for warmth, and hurried out between the iron-grilled gates, which stood slightly ajar. He hesitated a moment on the sidewalk. Again he glanced up and down the Avenue. The soft purring of a motor sounded. A taxi churned through the snow. It came to a slow stop at the opposite curb. The glow from an overhead arc showed that this taxi was crammed black with men. "That's Delaney and his squad," said the detective turning up his collar. "He's late." Drew crossed the Avenue on a long diagonal. He eyed the alert chauffeur. He rounded the taxi and jerked open its door. The orders he whispered to the squad of operatives were terse and to the point. "Keep Stockbridge's block covered," he said. "Watch all four corners. Two of you get into the alley, back of the house, and climb the fence. Keep your eyes on the junction-box and the telephone wires. Don't let anybody touch them. All out, now. It's a big job with double-pay, men!" The cramped operatives climbed out and stood on the sidewalk. They glanced from Drew to the towering spires of the Stockbridge mansion. Their eyes grew hard with calculation. "She's big," repeated Drew. "You know who lives there? He's been threatened twice. Somebody gave him twelve hours to live. Two of the twelve are gone. It's up to us to see that nothing happens in the next ten."