"Brass band methods!" said Drew. "You get out, Delaney, and go to our taxi. Stay there! I want to speak to Fosdick." The door opened. A burly form blotted out the light from the Avenue and stamped in, shaking the snow from his overcoat. It was Fosdick--Chief of Detectives. "Hello," he said cuttingly. "Hello, Drew! What's this you've been giving me over the 'phone?" The detective drew Fosdick aside and allowed five Central Office men to stream into the hallway. "Go and see," he suggested into the detective's ear. "Go and see. I've left everything just as I found it. The body is still there. The servants have been kept in the house. Question them. I'm off, now. 'Phone me not later than eight this morning. I'll be at my office. I'm acting in a private capacity. I'm protecting Loris Stockbridge--the sole heir!" "Protecting!" exclaimed Fosdick. "What d'ye mean?" Drew dropped his hand to his pocket and crammed down the little ivory-handled revolver. "Well," he smiled broadly. "You know what I mean. She's alone in this world--save for her friends. The old man called me in the case. I'm still in the case--remember that!" Fosdick gulped hard. "All right," he said, turning and peeling off his coat. "I'll soon get to the bottom of this! Case looks easy to me. It's suicide! That's all it ever could be!" Drew found his hat and coat where the butler had hung them. He went out through the front door without answering Fosdick. He crossed the Avenue on a diagonal which brought him to the waiting taxi where Delaney stood muffled to the chin. The two men climbed upon the running-board. The driver started up with a jerk, from his frozen position in the snow. They rounded the block and stopped in front of the drug-store where Loris had met the officer. The Central Office man who had taken O'Toole's place had little to report. O'Toole had vanished toward the south. When last seen he was close on the heels of the man in olive-drab. "Come on, Delaney," said Drew at this information. "We'll walk over to Fifth Avenue and then downtown. The driver can pick up our men in the alley. I want to clear my head of this muddle. A walk will do it!" Delaney fell in behind his chief. They turned the corner. They struck through a side street and westward. They saw ahead of them the white expanse of untrodden snow, and beyond this the faint blue barricade of the Palisades. The hour was after three. The crisp underfooting brought wine to their cheeks. The grip of winter air cleared both men's heads like a draught of ether. They stepped out. Their shoulders went back. Their thoughts passed from the case at the mansion to other things. The night had been filled with a thousand disappointments. Greatest of these was the stabbing memory that they both had been picked by the multimillionaire to protect him and save him from his enemies. They had failed in this trust. Their patron lay dead, and somewhere a whispering voice chuckled over a victory.