CHAPTER THREE
"THE MAN IN OLIVE-DRAB"
Triggy Drew stood on the marble steps of the Stockbridge mansion. Thebutler had just helped him on with his coat. The door had closedsoftly. The outer air gripped with cold that crackled. A soft snow wasfalling upon the city. It blurred the view of the Avenue, as seen tonorth and south. It wound the opposite buildings with a shroud ofwinter.
The detective squared his shoulders, thrust his hands in his pocketsfor warmth, and hurried out between the iron-grilled gates, which stoodslightly ajar. He hesitated a moment on the sidewalk. Again he glancedup and down the Avenue. The soft purring of a motor sounded. A taxichurned through the snow. It came to a slow stop at the opposite curb.The glow from an overhead arc showed that this taxi was crammed blackwith men.
"That's Delaney and his squad," said the detective turning up hiscollar. "He's late."
Drew crossed the Avenue on a long diagonal. He eyed the alertchauffeur. He rounded the taxi and jerked open its door. The orders hewhispered to the squad of operatives were terse and to the point.
"Keep Stockbridge's block covered," he said. "Watch all four corners.Two of you get into the alley, back of the house, and climb the fence.Keep your eyes on the junction-box and the telephone wires. Don't letanybody touch them. All out, now. It's a big job with double-pay, men!"
The cramped operatives climbed out and stood on the sidewalk. Theyglanced from Drew to the towering spires of the Stockbridge mansion.Their eyes grew hard with calculation.
"She's big," repeated Drew. "You know who lives there? He's beenthreatened twice. Somebody gave him twelve hours to live. Two of thetwelve are gone. It's up to us to see that nothing happens in the nextten."
Delaney touched his hat. "All right, Chief," he said. "We'll see. I'llanswer for the boys I brought. I'll get rid of this taxi." Theoperative turned toward the driver.
"Keep it around the corner on the side street," Drew ordered. "Have himturn and head this way. We can't tell what minute we will need him."
Delaney gave the order. He paired off the operatives and sent themhurrying through the snow. Drew noticed that he had brought six men forthe assignment.
"Good," he said as the last operative disappeared. "Six is better thanfive. This thing is widening out. I wouldn't wonder if we needed more,before the night passes."
"What's coming off?" asked Delaney with an Irish grin. "Another stockscandal like the Flying Boat one?"
"An echo of it--perhaps," said Drew. "It's dog eat dog, I guess.Stockbridge is no saint. Some man with a whispering--consumptive voicehas 'phoned him the news that he was going to die before daylight. Idon't think he is. Not if I can help it."
"Who did he rob this time--the old devil!"
"He's retired. It's a case, perhaps, of thieves falling out in highplaces. Remember how Stockbridge beat Morphy to the District Attorneyand told all he knew, and went before the Grand Jury? Morphy may bebehind this threat-by-wire."
"Morphy's behind bars, Chief!"
"I know that. He's always dangerous, though."
"Another old devil," said Delaney thrashing his arms. "I can see himnow, Chief, in his big automobile. A husky man with a leather coat andcap. And always a woman by his side, Chief. A different woman, everytime!"
"He fell a long way, Delaney. Come on. We'll forget Morphy for a while.Stockbridge is alone. He is in danger."
Drew clutched the operative's arm and motioned across the street. Theyplunged through the snow with heads down. They entered the iron-grilledgate. Drew touched a button set in the stone of the doorway. Herepeated the signal.
The door opened to a crack. A chain rattled. A face blotted out theinner light of the mansion.
"All right," said Drew. "All right, butler. This is one of myoperatives. Let us in."
The butler led the way through the hall of old masters, after takingthe detectives' coats and hats. He parted the curtains and announcedthe operatives. Drew pressed Delaney into the library.
Stockbridge sat in the same position between the tables. The rose-lightfrom the ornate lamp brought out deep lines which transversed hisyellow face. Fear gave way to a mumbling satisfaction as he stared atthe two resolute detectives who had come to guard him. He rested hiseyes upon Delaney. His brows raised in inquiry.
"This is Delaney," said Drew. "He's the man who brought back Morphyfrom Hartford. He's true blue. Delaney, this is your case as well asmine. Your old prisoner may be involved."
"Morphy ain't in it, Chief. He's locked up tighter than theSub-Treasury's strong-box. It's some one else."
"What did you get on the telephone call? The call I had you tracethrough Spencer Ott, the Chief Electrician?"
"Nothing, as yet! I waited. That's what kept me so long." Delaneyglanced at his watch.
"He'll 'phone later, I guess," said Drew. "Now," he added turningtoward Stockbridge. "Now, let's cover everything in this house. Whattime was it, Delaney?"
"Nine forty-eight, when I looked, Chief."
"That's early. Suppose you allow a half hour for a search of the upperhouse. Take that time and go over everything. Pay particular attentionto Mr. Stockbridge's rooms. Look at the windows. See that they arelocked. See that there are no places where a man could be hidden.You'll permit Delaney to do this, Mr. Stockbridge?"
The Munition Magnate nodded. He kept his eyes on Drew, who still facedhim. "Do you think it is necessary?" he asked. "I'll answer for myservants."
"We must suspect everybody," Drew said. "Go on, Delaney. Find thebutler and let him show you around. I've searched in here."
Delaney started toward the portieres as Stockbridge reached down andpressed the floor-button with his finger.
"Just a moment," said Drew with afterthought. "You better knock on MissStockbridge's door and ask permission to go through her suite. There'sjust a chance that you might see something."
"Might see something!" shrilled the magpie.
Delaney turned with a startled half-oath. "Wot's that?" he asked,aggressively clenching his huge fists.
"Might be something!" chortled the magpie.
"Go on," Drew laughed. "That's only a magpie."
"Looks like a crow, Chief. It sure startled me. I thought we had thevillain right here."
Drew waited. Delaney--with a last glance toward the bird-cage--followedthe butler to the upper floors of the mansion. Drew opened the letterand studied it. He examined the postmark. He heard, as he was replacingthe paper in the envelope, the click of the glass against the bottle atStockbridge's side. There followed a dry chuckle of inner satisfaction.A match was struck. Cigar smoke wreathed under the rose-light andfloated toward a high radiator which was over the book-cases. Drew wentover to these and glanced upward. The gilt-grilled ventilator, throughwhich the smoke passed, was narrow and set within the wallplaster. Itshowed no sign of marks at its edge. It was the only opening, save thedoor and the two great windows at the front, which led from or into thelibrary.
He returned to the center of the library. A swishing sounded. Loris,with eyes aflame, glided into the room. The curtains dropped behind herwith soft rustling. She glanced from Drew to her father. She stampedher slippered foot upon the thick pile of the rug before the doorway.
"By what right?" she said to Drew. "By whose orders have you sent thatawful man to my rooms?"
Drew flushed beneath the olive of his skin.
"_I_ sent him," he admitted guiltily. "I never thought you would beoffended, Miss Stockbridge."
"I am--greatly so! Do you mistrust me?"
"Miss Stockbridge," Drew hastened to say with soft apology. "MissLoris--that thought never entered my mind. It never did! I'll have Mr.Delaney out, right away. He should not have gone in without yourpermission. I told him to knock and ask you."
"My maid let him in. I--I----"
Drew studied her gown. It had been changed. The Irish lace and thelavender one had been replaced by an Oxford-gray tailor-made suit whichfitted her slender, elegant form like a close glove. Her slippers wereto
pped with fawn-hued spats. One ring was on her finger. It was asolitaire of price. It gleamed and flashed in the rose-light as sheraised her hand to her hair.
"I'll have Delaney right out," repeated Drew, bowing and starting forthe doorway.
"No!"
Drew paused. He turned. The magnate towered over the table. His eyeswere blood-shot and glazed with resolve.
"No!" he declared. "No, you'll not have him out! Let him do his duty!Loris, go upstairs!"
"But, father----"
"Go--up--stairs!"
The girl flushed. Scarlet ripples rose from her young breast. Hercheeks crimsoned into two burning spots. She wheeled, gathered up herskirt, and glided swiftly through the portieres which dropped behindher like a curtain of a stage.
"Go--up--stairs," quoted the magpie greatly excited.
Drew retained the vision of Loris long after her footsteps had ceasedto sound in the hallway. He grew thoughtful as he waited. There weredetails to the case which already caused him concern. It was evidentthat the girl was tremendously high-spirited and willful. Her obedienceto her father's demand had only been after a struggle with herturbulent nature. She had given in to him, but friction was there whichmight cause trouble at a future hour.
Delaney parted the portieres, finally. He strode into the library witha flushed face. He lifted one brow as he jerked his head upward in amute signal to Drew.
"I guess it's all O. K.," he blurted swinging toward Stockbridge andeyeing the bottle beside the telephone. "O. K. upstairs. I searchedmost everything--posted a valet at the master's suite and took a lookinto Miss Stockbridge's rooms. They seem all right. I guess they're allright," he added with candor, which Drew understood referred to thegirl and her outburst in her boudoir.
"Good," Drew said closing his lips. "That's good. Now, Mr.Stockbridge," he added, "there will be eight of us on the outside ofthis house. You have your trusted servants inside. There's threetelephones in good order, thanks to the trouble-man. There's the entireNew York Police and Detective Departments to back us up. There shouldbe no trouble."
The Magnate blinked beneath the cone of rose-light. He wet his drylips. He rubbed his scaly hands. "Any orders to me?" he askeddeterminedly. "What shall I do?"
"You lock this library door when Delaney and I go out. Lock it and boltit securely. Don't take a particle of food. Don't drink any water. Tryto get along to-night without sampling anything."
Stockbridge reached for the bottle of Bourbon. He held it up to thelight. It was half full. "All right," said he. "I might finish part ofthis--that's all."
Drew glanced at Delaney. "That'll be all right," he said turning. "Thatbottle's been tested. You might let this officer try a little of it.Nothing like being sure, you know."
Delaney was willing. The drink he poured, after the butler brought aclean glass, would have cost him considerable money in war time. Heupended it neat. He smiled as one hand rested upon his chest. "Fine!"he said with sincerity. "There's nothin' th' matter with that!"
Drew turned toward the portieres, where, between, the butler waited."We'll go now," he said. "Remember--lock and bolt this door. Instructyour man to stay outside and not to leave it under any circumstances.When you go up to your bedroom, have him go with you. Then lock theupstairs door and let your valet sleep across the threshold. You canhave a mattress moved for that purpose. I'll come in--first thing inthe morning. Good night, sir!"
"Good night," repeated Stockbridge rising from his chair and leaninghis hands upon the polished surface of the table. "Good night to bothof you!"
Drew glanced back as the butler pressed in the curtains and startedclosing the hardwood door. The Magnate still stood erect under the richglow from the overhead cone. His eyes were slit-lidded and defiant. Heglared about the room like an aged lion in a jungle-glade. He startedaround the table.
The door closed. Drew waited in the hallway. He heard the lock snap.The bolt shot home. Stockbridge was alone in a sealed room.
"Watch this door!" ordered Drew clutching the butler's purple sleeve."Watch it like a cat. Stay right near it under any and allcircumstances. Don't go away from it. It may mean life or death to yourmaster."
"I'll stoiy right 'ere, sir."
"See that you do," cautioned the Detective. "See that you do."
Delaney found the hats and coats in the foyer. These they donned,opened the outer door, and stepped into the night with jaws squared andhands thrust deep in their pockets.
They crossed the snow-mantled Avenue upon a long diagonal which broughtthem to the up-town corner and the waiting taxi, whose engine wassoftly purring beneath its hooded bonnet.
The driver was asleep. He woke as Drew laid a hand on his arm.
"Seen anything?" asked the Detective.
"Nothin', boss, but snow. Nothin' at all," he yawned.
Delaney glanced about. He opened the taxi door on the street side andlunged inward with a sigh of relief. Drew followed and pulled the doorshut.
"Where's the bunch?" he asked. "Just how did you post them?"
"Flood's with the fixed-post cop on the Avenue. He's down a block.Flynn and Cassady are in the alley--in the yard, I mean. They'rewatching the junction-box and the wires. Joe and O'Toole went east.Harrigan is planted across the street. That's him between the twobuildings. See him?"
Drew rubbed the rear glass of the taxi. He pressed his nose againstthis. A blurred form, almost obliterated by falling snow, showed wherethe operative was guarding the mansion.
Delaney, who was watching out through another window, suddenly clutchedDrew by the arm. "Look!" he exclaimed. "Look, Chief! Over toward thebig house!"
The Detective drew back from his study of Harrigan. He turned on theseat and followed Delaney's pointing finger. He clamped his jaw shutwith a click of strong teeth.
"Somebody's coming out of Stockbridge's," said the operative.
"Quek!" signaled Drew. "Watch, closely," he added in a whisper.
A girl came through the doorway and opened the iron-grilled gates. Shepaused and glanced north and south through the curtain of down-fallingsnow. She turned with resolution and hurried along the east side of theAvenue. She was at the corner opposite the taxi, when Drew reached andopened the door with sly fingers.
"Tail her," he ordered. "Right after her, Delaney. I'd know that littlelady in a million."
"Who is she, Chief?"
"Loris Stockbridge!"
"Sure?"
"Yes! Right after her! There--she turned east. See her white spats? Seeher furs? Some queen to be out a night like this. Don't let her get toofar ahead of you. That's right, Delaney!"
The operative sprang to the curb. He rounded the hood of the taxi. Heslouched along the pavement to the corner, waited for the fraction of aminute until a limousine passed, then hurried over the Avenue. Hedisappeared into the canyon whose walls were towering apartments andwhose end was marked by a row of soft arcs across which, snow fallingfrom housetops, sparkled in the night like diamonds beyond price.
The Avenue churned with returning theater-parties and night-hawk cabs.The roar of the city came to the waiting Detective's ears like a giantturning in his first sleep. The sifting snow sanded against the windowsof the taxi. The purring motor missed sparking now and then. It shookthe cab as it resumed its revolving with a sputter and a cough in themuffler. The driver huddled deeper in his sheep-skin coat collar. Hesnored in synchronism with the engine.
Drew rubbed the glass before him and studied the aspect withclose-lidded intentness. He marked the shut gates of the Mansion downthe Avenue. He saw that the lights from the inner globes had beenextinguished. He counted the staring windows. His eyes lowered to thesoft rose-glow which streamed out through the shut blinds of thelibrary. Snow was on the slats and sills.
A swift crunch of heavy shoes at the side of the taxi--the turning ofthe door-lock--the burly form in black that climbed in, announcedDelaney.
"All right, Chief!" he said somewhat out of breath. "All right--moveover. Here she comes back!"
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Drew rubbed a frosted pane with his elbow. A blurred form--close to thesheltering wall of the side street--revealed itself into LorisStockbridge. She turned the corner. She glanced back over her sabledshoulder. She pressed her gloved hands deep within her muff and almostran for the iron-grilled gates of the mansion.
"She connected with a blonde lad in olive-drab uniform!" said Delaney."He gave her something that looked to me like a revolver. Wot d'ye makeout-a that, Chief?"