it?"

Stockbridge hesitated. His eyes ran across the paper. His lips curled
in an ugly, thin-visaged smile which wrinkled his yellow face. "See it?
Yes!" he snapped, volplaning the sheet across the table with a vicious
jerk of his wrist.

"Ridgewood Cemetery," said Drew lifting the letter. "Heading, Ridgewood
Cemetery," he repeated softly. "Dated yesterday," he added with a sly
glance at Stockbridge. "Signed by the superintendent, I suppose. Yes,
by the superintendent. He scrawls worse than I do. Well, it looks
official and smells--ah!"

Stockbridge worked his brows up and down like a gorilla. He chewed on
his cigar with savage grinding of gold-filled teeth.

"Smells graveyardy," continued Drew. "I get flowers and urns and
new-turned earth. This seems to be the bare announcement that the grave
you ordered dug in the family plot--is ready and waiting." Drew glanced
up.

"Quite so," sneered the Magnate.

Drew stroked his upper lip. He turned the letter over. He held it to
the rose-light and studied the water-mark. He raised his black brows
and said sepulchrally:

"Who is dead?"

Stockbridge stiffened. "Dead?" he exclaimed. "Why, nobody is dead! Damn
it, Drew, there's nobody dead at all!"

The detective frowned. "Somebody in the immediate family?" he
questioned. "Somebody you are expecting to pass away soon? Some one on
their sick-bed, for instance?"

Stockbridge snatched the cigar from his mouth and threw it to the rug.
"That letter's a stab, Drew!" he exclaimed. "It's a damn insult to me
and mine, if you want to know. I'll have the author of it, or know the
reason why. I'll spend fifty thousand to catch the miscreants. They'll
not monkey with me!"

"The writer of this seems to be the superintendent."

"Yes--that part's all right. He knows nothing save what you see there.
This threat concerns Loris and I. We are the only two who will ever be
buried in our family plot."

"What does she know? Has she seen this letter?"

"Yes!"

"Knows nothing about it?"

"Nothing."

"Has no enemies?"

"Certainly not! She's just a girl!" The Magnate's eyes softened
slightly. He glanced around for a cigar.

Drew laid the letter on the table. "It seems to me," he said, "that you
have not explained everything. When did you get this letter, Mr.
Stockbridge? What time did it arrive?"

"It came in the late mail last night. I showed it to Loris at supper.
Then I called up the cemetery people this morning. Got the
super