Fifth Avenue in a welter of
flying ice and flakes.

Drew sprang back and faced Loris and Nichols who had risen and were
standing together in the glow from the cluster over their heads.

"What happened?" they asked in unison. "What was outside?"

"Delaney!" snapped Drew, dragging out his watch and glancing at it.
"Delaney's got word where to find his man. He's on the trail at last!
It's twelve-two. We ought to have that fellow in a half hour."

"The trouble-man?" asked Loris, with rising hopes. "Do you think it is
the trouble-man, Mr. Drew?"

"Nine chances in ten, it is! I'm venturing a guess it is. If we get
him--if Delaney gets him--he'll know it. Delaney used to work under the
old-time police chiefs. They showed scant consideration."

"But, he won't hurt him!" said Loris, with a tremulous exclamation.

"That murderer! Why, Miss Stockbridge, isn't he plotting to slay you?
Didn't he kill your father? I wish I were in Delaney's place."

"Me too!" declared Nichols, drawing closer to the detective. "Say,
Inspector, I want to congratulate you. I do."

"Wait, Harry. Just wait! You two sit down and be quiet. This affair is
a personal one with me. I don't doubt that Morphy or perhaps some one
else in state prison 'phoned to the same party who phoned Miss Loris.
That was all we needed. Delaney jumped into a taxi and hurried downtown
as fast as the storm permitted. Perhaps the call came from the same
booth. I don't think so, though."

"The one at Forty-second Street and Broadway?"

"I don't think so, Nichols. This fellow seems to pick a new one every
time. He's very crafty. That alone shows a criminal mind."

Drew paced the floor with soft gliding. He turned at the portieres and
crossed to the tapestries. He returned and stood before Loris and
Nichols.

"Captain," he said, "we can now begin to reconstruct this case. We can
get some of the dead-wood from our minds. It is apparent to me that one
of Mr. Stockbridge's sworn enemies--Morphy, for instance--confined in
state's prison, set about to slay both members of the family. He
secured a confederate whom he knew. This confederate has never been
arrested in the state. We have that from the finger prints in the booth
at Grand Central. We will presume that this confederate is the
trouble-man. He is probably an expert electrician. He either tapped in
on the wires the night Mr. Stockbridge was murdered or got behind the
switchboard and called up the library 'phone."

"