"Keep it under cover for a while," decided Drew, sitting down and drawing a sheath of papers to the edge of the desk. "Keep it quiet," he added. "I'll think it over." Delaney rubbed his chin. He watched Drew rapidly thumb over the data. "Say, Chief," he yawned. "I see another light." "What?" shot Drew over his shoulder. "S--o? Wait a moment before you give it to me--you reminded me of something. Where was the spot of powder on my face? The rubber in the Turkish bath said it was right here." The detective turned and touched his forefinger below the lobe of his left ear. "Right there," he added. "That's where it was, Chief. Just where you got your finger. It was on the cord. Seems to me that it was circular in shape. Like a half-moon." Drew raised his black brows in reflective thought. He opened a small drawer with a sudden dart of his arm. He poised a mirror so that the light from the window brought out his left ear and neck. He dropped the mirror to the desk. "Delaney," he said, "that's exactly the spot where Stockbridge was shot!" The operative felt a cold chill dart up and down his tired spine. He came to life with an oath, and a slap of his huge palm upon his knee. "Chief, you're right!" he exclaimed, leaning forward. "You're right! That spot of black was just where the old man was hit. Now, what d'ye make of that?" Drew drummed his fingers on the edge of the polished desk. He tapped his toes on the floor. He coughed and picked up the mirror for a second and longer glance at his face and neck. He tossed the mirror to the desk and swiveled slowly. "What do I think of it?" he repeated, with flashing eyes. "I think there are features to this case I don't like!" "Could it have been an accident, Chief? You might of got a bit of soot from the gun and then scratched your neck. Maybe that Harry Nichols put one over on us. The gun might have been fired, reloaded, and we never noticed it. Looks bad for Nichols and the girl." Drew closed his eyelids tightly. His brow furrowed in deep thought. "No," he said finally. "I don't think the soot or powder came from the pearl-handled revolver. I don't think so! It would seem to me, Delaney, that intuition is stronger than evidence. That girl and that boy rang true. That valet is above suspicion. The servants are to be trusted. Stockbridge trusted them and he was noted for his shrewdness in picking men. The only mistake he ever made was Morphy. That individual was out to do the old man. He was a biter, bitten! I think we'll eliminate, for the time, Loris, Harry, the servants and German influences in the matter at hand. What was your idea?" Drew rubbed his neck beneath his ear, as he turned to his papers.