utched so tightly in Loris Stockbridge's right hand. He bowed for a
second time. His eyes lifted and his brows arched as he said
distinctly:

"Miss Stockbridge, something very serious has happened to your father.
It happened in this library. It happened this morning. Won't you please
go back upstairs to your rooms until I call for you. At present I am in
charge of matters."

"Matters? What do you mean?"

The girl swayed slightly. She glanced down at the revolver as if she
were unaware that it was in her hand. Drew advanced a step in her
direction. He feared a woman and a gun more than anything else in the
world. Both were liable to form a dangerous combination.

"Something happened," he repeated. "I'm very sorry for you, Miss
Stockbridge."

"Happened!" she exclaimed. "Happened to him? You don't mean that
letter--that telephone call--do you?"

Loris' splendid, dusky eyes, within the depths of which high lights
shone, wandered over the polished table. They fastened upon the
envelope from the cemetery company. They fixed where the letter lay
with one corner beneath the center piece. They lifted in thought. They
swung toward the waiting detective who had placed himself between her
and the body of her father. She divined this movement with quick
intuition. She stepped to one side and bent downward with a graceful
movement of her hips. She gasped and pointed a left hand finger, which
wavered and went up to her hair as her palm pressed against the side of
her head. She started sobbing--short, throaty sobs of poignant
distress.

"Please don't," whispered Drew holding out a guarding arm. "Please
don't, Miss Stockbridge. Your father is beyond this earth. You should
not have come down here."

"Dead?"

The word came from the depths of a soul. "Dead?" she repeated with her
taper fingers spreading across her face.

"Yes, Miss," said Drew with a catch in his voice. "Yes, he is quite
dead. He was slain in this room by a revolver shot which struck behind
and under his left ear. No one was in the library when he locked
himself in, save himself. No one was here when we broke the door down.
And, save his servants and you, no one was in this house. He was----"

"Murdered!" Loris' voice had lifted to one wild shriek of final
conviction and grief. She swayed. Her knees bent beneath her skirt and
bulged outwardly. She sank into a slow faint at the detective's feet.
She pillowed her head upon the rug. A silence followed.

Drew