"Who, Chief?" "The tall fellow! Perhaps he was skulking about the windows at the back." "Perhaps he was a ghost," said Delaney to himself as he lunged through the tapestries toward the staircase which led down from the third floor of the mansion. Drew crossed the room and rapped softly on a panel by the portières which covered the opening to the reading-room and library. He heard a muffled word of warning. Loris Stockbridge glided across the rugs and peered out. Her face was set and tear-stained. She had been sobbing upon an olive-drab shoulder. "Pardon," said Drew with a slight sigh. "I beg pardon, Miss Stockbridge. I want to look over the sitting-room and examine the windows. Where is the maid?" Loris touched her eyes with a handkerchief drawn from her breast. She replaced this and nodded over her shoulder. She parted the portières with her unjeweled right hand. "The maid," she said softly, "is in her room. That's back of this reading-room. Shall I call her?" "You and Mr. Nichols come in here, please," said Drew. "I'll knock on the maid's door and look her over. We can't be too careful--remember that. It's getting late," he added with candor. Drew allowed Harry Nichols and Loris to pass him as he held the portières for them with a thoughtful bow. He crossed the reading-room, examined the books and cases, glanced under a low divan, and saw to it that each window was latched before he knocked lightly upon a further door which was hidden by curtains. A maid appeared, in smart white apron and pursed lips of inquiry. Drew regarded her not unkindly. He ran his eyes up and down her trim figure from the black bow in her brown hair to the wide ribbons which laced her trim French shoes. "How long have you been with Miss Stockbridge?" he asked. _"Merci, Monsieur!"_ she courtesied. "It has been for zee longest time. _Cinq--sept, années, monsieur,"_ she counted mentally. "Good!" said Drew closing the door lightly. "Good little girl. We won't bother you the rest of the night," he added as he turned a good key in a perfectly good lock and dropped the curtains. "Now!" he said with a final glance about the reading-room, with its morocco-bound tomes and glowing lights. "Now, let the worst come! Let that come what may!" He strode through to the reception room, glanced slit-lidded at Loris and Nichols, who had seated themselves in the deeper recess of a splendid alcove, and hurried to the hall where Delaney was hastily removing his coat, and showing other evidences of some answer to his quest at the telephone exchange. "Well?" asked Drew as the bulk of the big operative loomed through the tapestries. "Well, what did you find out over there?" "Enough, Chief!" Delaney's voice was hard. He glanced at Loris and Nichols. His right eye closed in a warning wink of caution. "Come into this other room," said Drew. "Come right in, Delaney. This way!" Drew lifted the portières, then dropped them after the operative had stumbled forward.