-you copper! I know Fosdick--the third degree artist."

Drew frowned as he glanced at the cuffs. He scratched his dark hair and
combed his fingers back toward his ears. He turned and glanced at Loris
and Nichols in the opening between the two splendid rooms.

"I don't like to take a chance with this fellow," he admitted. "Do you
want me to, Miss Stockbridge? It's your life he was after, and he may
be shamming now. You never can trust an opium addict. They have no
soul."

"I've as much as a copper's!"

"Shut up, you!" boomed Delaney, threateningly. "Shut up! There's a lady
in this room!"

The prisoner clicked his cuffs together. He stared at the cheval glass
and the telephone. "A lady?" he repeated through the corner of his
lips. "A limb of the Stockbridge tree," he said bitterly. "I hold
nothing against her. I told you that before. But we promised the old
man we'll take care of her after we killed him, and she came near
going--let me tell you that. I could have killed her with twenty
words."

"He's rambling," said Delaney, reaching for the prisoner. "The dope has
gone to his head. I don't believe there's any----"

"Easy, Delaney," warned Drew thoroughly on the alert. "Don't make the
mistake of underestimating this fellow. He acts like a man who has
repented--who wants to right some of the wrong he has done. I don't
think we are taking chances in letting this fellow loose. He is
unarmed. I tended to that. If he wants to 'phone--let's let him."

"Your case, Chief!"

Drew reached in his pocket and brought around a police regulation
revolver. "I'll have this right here!" he snapped as he slowly raised
it. "You, Delaney, unlock one cuff and pass it to me. I'll wrap the
chain around my left wrist. If this fellow tries anything I'll tend to
his case--forever. These .44's are made for stopping purposes, eh, Mr.
Nichols?"

"They certainly are, Mr. Drew. I think we can handle that little man
without trouble. What does he want to telephone for?"

"What for, Bert?" asked Drew, swinging and confronting the prisoner.
"Do you want to say good-by to somebody?"

"Good-by is right," whispered the trouble-man, extending his hands
toward Delaney, who fished out a small key. "Yes, it's good-by to
somebody. Unlock them!"

"Hold on!" exclaimed Drew. "I don't like that tone. You'll have to act
better than that, Bert. What do you want to get loose for? What number
do you want? I'll call up."

"No, I got to do it. I want one h