the room.

Drew recognized Loris Stockbridge from newspaper photos. He held his
breath as she glided by him, unseeingly. He touched his mustache and
waited. Her face, framed in close-drawn hair the color of midnight sky,
softened perceptibly as she swished round the great table in the center
of the library and laid an unjeweled hand upon her father's shoulder.

She turned with a start as she realized that Stockbridge was not alone.
Drew bowed with swift courtesy.

"Mr. Drew," said the Magnate. "Mr. Drew, my daughter, Loris."

Again the detective bowed. He met her level glance with a smile in his
brown eyes. She answered it and leaned over her father's shoulder. Drew
wheeled and fell to studying the titles on the books. He moved to the
magpie's cage. He extended one finger. The bird fluttered and sprang
from perch to perch.

Drew thrust his hands into his pockets. He heard Loris speaking in
terse, throaty tones to her father. He could not well avoid catching
the tenor of their conversation. It concerned the letter from the
cemetery and the threat of death within twelve hours, which the Magnate
repeated to her with a softness in his aged voice.

A gushing torrent of unbridled emotion poured down upon his gray head.
The girl paced the floor between the chair and the table. She fell to
her knees with swift grace.

"Be careful, father," she sobbed. "You must be so careful. Remember
you're all that I have, now. That letter and that telephone call means
that somebody is planning to destroy you. Oh, father, be careful. What
would happen if you were taken away from me?"

"You'd marry that cad--Nichols!" blurted Stockbridge. "I'm the one
thing that stands in his way. You'd marry him--wouldn't you?"

The girl rose proudly. Drew, from the shadow outside the rose-light,
studied the slender figure crowned with a close-drawn turban of
blue-black hair. His eyes ranged down to her slipper heels. They lifted
again. He stroked his chin as he waited for her answer. It came
truthfully enough and with high spirit.

"Yes, I'll marry him some day. I want your permission, but with it or
without it, father, I am going to marry him. He's a captain in the
Army. Doesn't that prove he is not all the things you said he was?"

"Good girl," said Drew in whispered admiration.

"It proves nothing!" exclaimed Stockbridge stiffening in his chair and
half rising. "He's a cad and an ass under all his uniform. He's too
poor to be considered for