!"

Nichols took the card, tilted it to the light from the open door, then
dropped it into the right-hand side pocket of his lounging robe beneath
which blue pajamas showed.

"Come in!" he said without committing himself. "Come in, and take off
your hats. I've only two rooms and a bath, here."

Drew stepped upon heavy rugs and crossed the chamber to a chair. He
turned this, removed his hat, and sat down with his legs thrust
outward. His eyes roamed the place in slow calculation. Dark, old
masters, which were probably good in their day, stared down at him. A
little globe, petticoated in soft silk, gave a yellow light to the
walls and floor. It brought out Nichols' features in sharp, actinic
shadows. Drew continued his searching glance. A bed, with tossed
coverlet and sheets, loomed from an inner room. A table, upon which was
an officer's cap and gloves, stood between two doors that were closed.
One of these doors, Drew concluded, was the bathroom entrance, the
other might have been a closet. His eyes fastened finally upon a
telephone upon a dark-wood stand. He lifted his chin.

"Montgomery Stockbridge is dead!" he snapped, darting at Harry Nichols
the keen scrutiny of a man salvoing a surprise.

Nichols glanced at the 'phone. "I know that!" he said with rising
color. "I'm aware of that fact, Mr. Drew."

"When did you first learn of it?"

"See here! I have your card. I know who you are. I was almost expecting
you, or another detective. But,"--Nichols' voice raised to a determined
key--"but, sir, I am not talking to anybody about what you just told
me. How do I know who you represent--the police or the law or the----"

"You have talked with Miss Stockbridge. She told you in the drug-store
that I was in the house. She has told you that I was called in by her
father. She undoubtedly 'phoned you, after she recovered from her
faint. You have the details of the dastardly murder--if ever there was
one! I represent her. I represent her friends. I have no other interest
in this case!"

Harry Nichols drew out the card and studied it. He glanced at Delaney.
"Who is this man?" he asked.

"My right bower. He's with me--and you and Miss Loris. We're together
in this. The police now have the case. What I want is to protect you
and her from the police. What will they do when they learn from the
servants--which they will--that Miss Stockbridge had _this_ gun in her
hand when she entered the library?"

Drew extended his palm.