novel, with a vivid portrait of a poilu carrying a very sharp bayonet
on its cover, lay in the center of a white counterpane on the bed.

"Good-night!" he said as he closed and carefully locked the door. He
reached downward and caught up the tray. He started across the
writing-room. He paused in its center as he heard:

"Burrrr! Burrrr! Burrrrr!"

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 portieres 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 arou