“Hello!” he said sharply into the transmitter. “Hello! Who’s this?”
He waited as some out-of-town connection was made. A thin voice broke in from the silence. The voice rose in timber. “Oh, Hello!” exclaimed the detective, recognizing Flynn, one of his operatives. “Hello, Flynn,” he said. “What’s the weather like out at Morristown? Yes! ... Yes! ... Oh, is that so.... What? ... Too bad! ... Well, you better come in.... Take the first train and jump on the job.... He’s in Florida, eh? ... Well, that lets him out.... Good-by, Flynn!”
Drew reached for a pencil and scratched a name off his list before he hung up the receiver. “That leaves six,” he said, running his eyes down the names of the suspects. “Six to go. We’ll round them up—or out. It looks bad for one or two of them!”
He dropped the pencil to the desk with a flip of his fingers. He replaced the telephone receiver on the hook. He twirled the chair and leaned forward with his hands on his knees.
“Nice bird, you,” he said, addressing the magpie. “We’re alone, you and I. Why don’t you tell me what you know—what you heard in that library, when the millionaire talked over the phone and then received the cupronickle bullet in the base of his brain? He said, ‘Ah, Sing!’ eh? He said it, or we are jumping at conclusions. Have Delaney and I erred—as once or twice before?”
The bird strutted about the cage. It pecked at a hard, white fish-bone, thrust between two bars. It dipped its bill into the water-holder, then held high its head as it gulped. It switched its tail and hopped onto the first perch. There it sat, with coiled claws, as Drew leaned closer.
“Ah, Sing!” he repeated confidentially. “Ah, Singing! Ossining! Sing Sing! Let me hear you do your prettiest, birdie. Don!”
The magpie lowered its head and peered outwardly. It lifted a wing with ruffled dignity. Drew narrowed his eyes. “You were there,” he whispered. “You were in that sealed room—that double-locked and triple-watched library. How did the murderer shoot down the old man? How could he do it, Don? I think I know why it was done. I’m fairly sure who is directing matters. What I want to know is, what devilish ingenuity of the criminal tribe projected that bullet into the old man’s brain? Answer that, Don!”
The bird was as stately as a raven. It seemed to Drew that he heard an echoed “Nevermore.” He sat upright and took his hands from his knees. “Answer that, Don?” he repeated.
“Gone batty, Chief?” asked Harrigan, thrusting his shoulders through the open door.