globes. This glow brought out the full details of the palatial
interior. Drew chewed at his mustache thoughtfully. He measured the
walls with his eyes. He glided swiftly toward the windows. He thrust
aside the heavy curtains of one and glanced upward.

"Closed and locked," he said to Delaney. "Put that down. There's snow
on the sill which has drifted through the outer slats. Put that down.
No sign of footprints. Put that down. Now, the upper part!"

He climbed up on the ornate radiator box. His fingers went over the
catch. "Locked here!" he said, glancing down. "Locked and the same as
it was. Make a note of that!"

He sprang down and examined the other window. He went over the sill and
the catch with absorbed intentness. His teeth bit against his upper
lip. He shook his head as he turned.

"No chance for a bullet to have been fired through these windows!" he
declared positively. "No chance at all. This end of the library is
sealed as far as we are concerned. Now, we'll consider the only other
opening--the door!"

"Double locks, Delaney," he called over his shoulder as he crossed the
room and pressed the butler back into the hall. "Double locks of the
superior order. Gold knobs and key-holes. The holes are not in line.
The chamfering is clean, except where you struck it once or twice with
the ax. No sign of outside tampering or jimmy work. I'd say we've
covered this door. Any suggestions?"

Delaney tried both the inner lock and the bolt which was actuated with
a gold butterfly-wing of heavy construction. He studied the flat key.
It was gold-plated. He dropped to his knees and went over the entire
lower chamfering with his broad finger.

He said, "No suggestions, Chief. This was locked twice, until we broke
a hole through with an ax. I don't see----"

"Make a note of everything!" ordered Drew with a sharp glance at the
waiting servants. "Make a full record of what we have found--including
your exact interpretation of the magpie's words. What were they?"

"Ah, Sing!"

"I think the same. Let's look the bird over. Perhaps it will repeat."

The two detectives strode to the bird-cage. "I'm going to send for
Fosdick and the coroner," said Drew hastily. "We've got to hurry. What
do you make of this bird? Could it have had anything to do with the
murder?"

The magpie protested against this accusation. Its feathers ruffled. Its
claws clamped over the perch. Its tail extended upward and seemed to
dart with indignati