“All right,” said Drew. “All right, butler. This is one of my operatives. Let us in.”
The butler led the way through the hall of old masters, after taking the detectives’ coats and hats. He parted the curtains and announced the operatives. Drew pressed Delaney into the library.
Stockbridge sat in the same position between the tables. The rose-light from the ornate lamp brought out deep lines which transversed his yellow face. Fear gave way to a mumbling satisfaction as he stared at the two resolute detectives who had come to guard him. He rested his eyes upon Delaney. His brows raised in inquiry.
“This is Delaney,” said Drew. “He’s the man who brought back Morphy from Hartford. He’s true blue. Delaney, this is your case as well as mine. Your old prisoner may be involved.”
“Morphy ain’t in it, Chief. He’s locked up tighter than the Sub-Treasury’s strong-box. It’s some one else.”
“What did you get on the telephone call? The call I had you trace through Spencer Ott, the Chief Electrician?”
“Nothing, as yet! I waited. That’s what kept me so long.” Delaney glanced at his watch.
“He’ll ’phone later, I guess,” said Drew. “Now,” he added turning toward Stockbridge. “Now, let’s cover everything in this house. What time was it, Delaney?”
“Nine forty-eight, when I looked, Chief.”
“That’s early. Suppose you allow a half hour for a search of the upper house. Take that time and go over everything. Pay particular attention to Mr. Stockbridge’s rooms. Look at the windows. See that they are locked. See that there are no places where a man could be hidden. You’ll permit Delaney to do this, Mr. Stockbridge?”