ay. To him
Drew said, "Mr. Stockbridge sent for me."

The butler bowed with old world civility. He took the detective's hat
and coat. He waited until Drew removed his gloves. He bowed for a
second time and led the way over rugs whose pile was as thick as some
Persian temple's. They came finally, after an aisle of old masters, to
the inner circle of latter-day finance and money-wizardry--the
celebrated library of Montgomery Stockbridge.

The Munition Magnate sat there. He turned as the butler announced the
detective. He shot a gray-thatched pair of eyes up and over a mahogany
table upon which a white envelope lay. He smiled coldly. His thumb
jerked toward a leather chair into which Drew sank and leaned his
elbows upon the table.

Stockbridge coughed dryly. He blinked and studied the detective's face
for a long minute. He glanced from the envelope up at a cone of rose
light which hung from a cluster of electric-globes. His expression,
seen in this light, was like an aged lion brought to bay. His wrinkled
skin was tawny. His hands coiled and uncoiled like claws. They moved
prehensilely, as though cobwebs were in that perfumed air of wealth and
security. They poised over the envelope as if to snatch the secret or
delusion hidden there.

"See that letter!" declared the Munition Magnate, closing his fist and
banging the table. "See it? D'ye see it?"

Drew widened his eyes at the outburst. He crossed his legs and nodded.

"It's blackmail!" Stockbridge snarled. "Rank-scented blackmail of the
cheapest order."

"A threat of some kind?"

"Threat? Yes--a threat, in a way. It's clever, but it won't _work_ with
me!"

Drew recrossed his legs. He touched his short-cropped mustache with the
fingers of his right hand. He coughed as in suggestion. His brows
lifted as he studied the envelope from a distance.

Stockbridge snatched it up suddenly. He slapped it against the edge of
the polished table. He turned and found a cigar to his liking out of
many in a humidor beneath a smaller table at the right of his chair. He
bit on this cigar, struck a match, and dragged in the smoke with deep
inhalings before he turned and opened the envelope, exposing a letter
which he rapped with the knuckles of his left hand.

"I'll beg to be excused," he said half-apologetically. "I'm not myself.
This letter, you know. I want you to ferret it out. I want you to find
out who sent it, and make him or her pay. Make them pay in full!"

"May I see