. Sullen light gleamed in their yellow depths.

"What happened?" questioned Drew half rising from his chair and leaning
over. "Who phoned?"

The Magnate's chin described an upward arc. His lips grew firm. Bulges
showed at the sides of his jaw.

"What--who was it?" asked the detective.

Stockbridge stared at the letter upon the table. His neck changed from
purple to a pasty ochre. A green sheen, like of death, overspread his
crafty features. He was stricken with the clutch of fear.

Drew waited and thought rapidly. "What happened?" he asked with
persuasion. "Nothing serious--I hope?"

"Serious," said Stockbridge absently. "Serious!" he snarled. "Yes, it
was serious! It was a death threat! It was what I had expected. It
follows the letter. They--he will get me! He--he----"

"Who?" asked the detective.

Drew heard the table creaking as Stockbridge's muscles stiffened--as
the Magnate's hands clutched the edge of the polished surface.

"Who?" he repeated on the alert for possible clews.

"Who! I don't know! But they will--he will!"

"Easy," said Drew. "Take it easy, sir. This is a modern age. We are in
the heart of civilization. Nobody is going to _get_ you! I'll see to
that!"

"You can't see! This man knows everything. He said that I would be dead
within twelve hours. That I would be in my grave in seventy-two hours.
He mentioned the grave at Green--Ridgewood Cemetery. He gave secret
details of my life which few alone know. Early follies of mine. An
actress. A deal in War Babies and an electrical stock which was hushed
up. I was the silent partner in that. How should this man know all of
these things about me?"

"Just what did he say?"

"I've told you! He said enough! He threatened to kill me despite all
the precautions I would take. He said I was marked for a death which
all the police in the world couldn't solve. That I would be killed in
spite of every effort to save me. What is it--poison? Have I already
been given poison?"

Drew reached across the table and clutched the magnate's left wrist. He
pulled out a flat watch and timed the pulse. "Normal, almost," he said
softly. "You're normal, despite the shock. Your temperature is fair. I
don't think it was a toxin he meant. That deadens a man and brings slow
coma."

"Well, what did he mean?" The magnate had found his voice and his
old-time nerve. "What would you do in my case?" he said cunningly.

Drew glanced at the telephone. He raised his brows and