"What did you find?" he asked into Delaney's ear. "Out with it!" The operative glanced about the reading-room. He blinked at the glowing electrics. He recovered his voice as he drew in a deep breath which bulged his chest to barrel proportions. "I went," he said huskily. "I went to Gramercy Hill Exchange. Found the superintendent.... Fellow, you told me to find, Chief ... I draws him to one side.... I asked about this trouble-hunter.... He ups like I'd hit him.... He says fellow quit to-day.... Says fellow.... Says he was no good.... Says he was tapping joints instead of soldering them. Says he only hired him on account of the shortage of electricians and helpers ... because of the last Army draft." "Did you get his address?" "I got it, Chief.... It is over on Fifty-third Street near the River.... I didn't go.... I wanted to see you first.... There's more." "Out with it!" "The superintendent says he never sent that trouble-hunter over here last night.... There's a record of sending another man named Frisby." "Did you see--Frisby?" "I did, Chief." "What did he say?" Drew's fingers had clutched the operative's arm. "What did he say?" he repeated grimly. "Said, that Albert--that's the trouble-hunter--had stopped him on the way over here and took his place.... Said, he was satisfied.... Albert could have _all_ the jobs on a night like last night. That's just what Frisby said, Chief!" Drew loosened his fingers from Delaney's arm and turned slowly. The portières swayed slightly. They shook anew. They parted at the center and revealed Loris Stockbridge. Her eyes burned the soft gloom with glazed interrogation. She raised her white hand and pressed back her hair from her forehead. She stepped forward with her knees striking against the stiff satin of her skirt. She swung from Delaney toward Drew. "What were you saying?" she asked imperiously. "What did you say about a trouble-man? What was it, please?" "I'm lookin' for one, Miss!" declared Delaney. "I was over at the telephone company's exchange lookin' for the lad that was here last night and fixed the junction-box in the yard back of the house. Mr. Drew wants him." Loris turned toward the detective. "You want him?" she asked softly. "What do you want him for? Please tell me. I don't like him, at all." It was Drew's turn to draw in his breath. He eyed the girl. He tried to fathom the reason for her simple question and her objection. "Miss Loris," he said, shrugging his square shoulders. "Why, it's a slight matter. The man has disappeared. We can't find him. He's flown--perhaps." "Is he a little chap with a satchel and a testing set?" she asked. "A nice-mannered, soft-voiced little man who was so obliging, and yet so--oh! I don't know what I have against him. He's so sly--don't you think so, Mr. Dr--e--w?" "When did you ever see him?" asked Drew, feeling the blood rising to his cheeks at a thought which surged through his brain.