is brows and swung upon the bird.

"Books! Books!" repeated the pet. "Books, books, books!"

"Fine bird," said Drew with thought. "But what is behind the cases, Mr.
Stockbridge? I don't want to move them if the walls are all right."

A glass clicked against the silver tray as the Magnate answered
hastily:

"All right! They're all right. I was here when they were filled. I just
ordered so many feet of books. Six hundred feet, I think it was. I
never look at them. All that I ever read is the magazines and the
financial items in the newspapers."

"The pictures--paintings," Drew said.

"Pictures! Pictures!" repeated the magpie.

"Shut up!" snarled Stockbridge. "Keep quiet, Don!"

The bird ruffled its feathers and leaped to a top perch. It peered from
there at Drew, with its head cocked sideways.

"How about them?" repeated the detective.

"I had them hung by my orders," Stockbridge said. "They're all right.
Nothing but a strong wall behind. No need to bother about them."

"Everything is important," Drew suggested with a slight reproof in his
voice. "Trifles may make for the answer to the riddle."

"That Corot over there is no trifle. It cost me thirty-five thousand
dollars in France!"

Drew lifted the lower edge of the painting from the wall. Dust fell. He
pressed his face against the paper and looked behind the canvas.
Letting the frame back he tried the same operation with the other
paintings of size.

"No secret panel, or anything queer," he said finally as he dusted his
hands. "All's well with the walls. Now the floor. How about trapdoors?"

"Impossible!" Stockbridge exclaimed. "I'm sure these rugs have been
taken out and cleaned every time I go to my country-place. A trapdoor
would be noticed!"

"I'm trying to find out," suggested Drew glancing from the bottle to
the purple face of the Magnate. "Please answer me if you want to get
results. I've got to see that no one comes into this library for the
next twelve hours. After that period of time--we can breathe easier."

"Go on," said Stockbridge feeling the thrust.

"This door," Drew said. "The door to the hall. Can it be locked
securely?"

"Yes! It can be locked and bolted from the inside. I often lock myself
in--in----"

Stockbridge stiffened in his chair. He glanced toward the portieres. He
leaned forward and attempted to shield the view of the quarter-emptied
Bourbon-bottle and the used glass, as a girl in lavender and Irish-lace
swept into