Shrillingly the perfumed air of the suite vibrated with the silver notes of the telephone. Drew hesitated, with the tray balanced in his hand. He took one step forward as Loris swished across the sitting-room, lifted the hard-rubber receiver and voiced a soft, "Hello!" Drew let go of the tray and sprang forward. He parted the portières and watched Loris' face. It changed between seconds to a flushed mask of crimson-fear. She staggered back, dropped the receiver, and cried "Harry!" as she sank to the floor. Drew darted across the rugs and snatched up the instrument. He heard a low, chuckling laugh that died to a whisper and then to nothingness. He flipped the receiver back on the hook. He turned with a savage twist. He stared across the room toward Loris, who had risen to her knees and whose head was against Nichols' olive-drab breast. "What was said?" he questioned sharply. A mass of turbaned, midnight-hued hair uncoiled and fell about the girl's white face. Glorious eyes dulled, then glowed, with the fire which was pulsing within her. Her lips trembled and went blanched as she throated brokenly: "The man--the man at the other end said.... He said that his master had ordered my coffin.... He said that I had only a few hours to live.... He said that he would call me up again.... For me to be ready then, to meet my Master and my--doom." CHAPTER THIRTEEN "A SILENT PRISONER" Loris Stockbridge finished speaking with a low sob which went straight to the detective's heart. He advanced across the room and ran his arm about her supple waist. "We'll help her to the divan," he told Nichols. "That's it! Right over here and in the corner. She's all right. I'll tend to that threat which came over the wires." Drew backed away and turned toward the telephone. He eyed it with cold calculation. He took one step further, then wheeled and glanced at Nichols. "I want to trace that call if it is humanly possible," he said with decision. "We can find out, at least, from where it came. Suppose you leave me here with Miss Stockbridge, and you go down stairs and around to the drug-store?" Loris rested her weight on one elbow. She sat erect, with slowly widening eyes. Her hands strayed to her hair and pressed it back from her ears. She gained command of herself after a shudder had passed through her slender body. She half rose. "I've heard that voice before!" she exclaimed, pointing toward the 'phone. "It was familiar, Mr. Drew. Now where have I heard it?" "Some friend of your father's?" "No, I don't think it was. But I've heard it in this house." "A servant--the valet?" "No! No, Mr. Drew, it wasn't the valet's voice. It was whispering and consumptive. It squeaked. It sounded like a little boy's voice." "How about that trouble-man?" Drew advanced with keen steps. He felt that he was very close to the truth.