Delaney was back at the detective's side, after a clumsy stride through the tapestries. "Cute couple," he said, jerking his thumb over-shoulder toward the inner room. "They're sittin' there so close you couldn't get a sheet of paper between them. I like that colleen, Chief! She's the kind you see on them magazine covers--only prettier." "A cat can look at a queen," quoted Drew, pulling down his hat and opening the door wide. "Be sure and lock this after me," he warned. "Lock and bolt it. Stand guard and don't let anybody in at all. I'm only going round the block." Delaney shut the door and turned the key. He followed this action by twisting the butterfly. Then he drew his gun and waited, grimly alert. Drew reached the drug-store after a brisk, lung-cleansing walk through the down-driving snow. He dropped a coin in the slot and first called up his office. Harrigan, who had remained at his post, answered for most of the operatives who were out on the case and who had 'phoned in at every opportunity. "Get Frick at the prison," Drew shot back, after making a few notes. "Get him and tell him to call up this 'phone," Drew glanced at the number over the transmitter. "Tell him to call up Gramercy Hill 9749 and let whoever I station here, know to whom and to what number Morphy is talking in New York. Get that?" "Sure," came back over the wires. "Sure, Chief. You want to pinch the fellow he's connecting with?" "I certainly do," said Drew. "We can work it this way. As soon as I find out from Frick where Morphy or anybody else is 'phoning from the prison, I can get a man over there in time to make the arrest. The superintendent at Gramercy Hill will help us out if the call comes through his exchange. He can get the girl to stall for a minute or two. I'll send Delaney here to hold this end of the wire. You keep him posted as to developments. O'Toole, yes! He's planted in the alley back of the house. He can't report. All the others are all right?" Drew hung up with a flip of the receiver. He backed out of the booth and hurried around the corner. He reached the iron-grilled gate of the mansion with his head down and the snow seeping between his collar and his neck. "Rotten night!" said the Central Office man at the door. "I don't think we'll hear anything from anybody. Them gunmen like the backrooms of saloons too well to pull off a gun-play in this storm, Inspector." "You never can tell," said Drew, shaking his coat and hurrying toward the stairway which led to Loris Stockbridge's apartment. Delaney opened the door after a repeated knock in Morse code. He eyed his chief. He motioned toward the inner rooms. "All quiet," he said with a broad smile. "Them turtle doves sure like to be left alone." "And you would too! Especially if you lost your only relative the night before--lost him in the way she lost hers." The big operative gulped down the thrust. "What did you find out?" he asked in a husky whisper.