"Never a word, sir. Hit's blym quiet hin there. Hi think 'e's 'ad something 'appen, sir. 'E never acted like that--before, sir. Sometimes 'e sleeps, but 'e always wakes hup when the walley comes after 'im, sir." "'E does," echoed the butler with chattering teeth. "Are you sure you tried to unlock this door?" queried Drew, twisting the knob. "Have you tried the outer lock? You might have shot the bolt in your excitement." "The key to the houter lock, sir, is hinside!" "It is!" snapped Drew, pressing against the panel as he listened close up to the chamfering. "It is, eh? That's funny." "'E put hit there, sir. The master did, sir!" Drew did not dwell further on this. He stared at Delaney, with unseeing eyes. He bent and listened for a second time. He stiffened suddenly. He jerked back. "Listen," he whispered tersely. "Everybody listen. What's that noise inside? Hear it? Hear it, Delaney?" The operative dropped to his knees and pressed his ear to a faint line of light below the door. He rose, dusting his knees. He swore audibly. "What is it?" asked Drew. "Sounds like the crow, Chief." "Stockbridge's magpie?" "Something like that." The Detective laid his ear flat against the key-hole. His face hardened as he waited. He lifted his head and pointed with a steady finger. "Listen!" he commanded. "There--listen. That's no magpie!" _A low whine like the howl of a wild thing rose to a reed note of moribund terror. It died; then resumed its shrieking. It leaped the octaves from no note to a blare of a soul in agony. Suddenly it struck down the tone scale with descending steps of mocking laughter._ "Look out!" shouted Drew, bending his knees and gliding back to the wall of the hallway. "Look out!" he repeated. "What are you goin' to do?" asked Delaney huskily. "Do? I'm going to break the door down! Look out!" The detective braced himself against the wall. He lunged forward and crashed against the dark panel near the lock and bolt, with the energy of a college fullback. He backed away and repeated the smashing blow. "Hold on, Chief," Delaney said. "That's no use. The door is two inches thick. I had a good look at it. Wait!" Drew rubbed his right shoulder as Delaney turned toward the white-faced butler. "You get an ax!" he ordered. "Beat it, and get a big ax, quick!" "The axes are in the furnace room, sir." "Get one! Bring it right up, you. Hurry now!" The operative turned toward Drew. "The only way, Chief," he explained. "I've been in too many of Big Bill Devery's raids not to know how to break down a strong door. I'm the man who took Honest John Kelsey's house apart for him. It was built like a British tank." The puffing butler appeared with a fire ax. He handed it to Delaney, who eyed the edge with concern. "Not sharp," he said, "but it'll do, at a pinch. Look out--everybody!"