Drew rubbed the rear glass of the taxi. He pressed his nose against this. A blurred form, almost obliterated by falling snow, showed where the operative was guarding the mansion.
Delaney, who was watching out through another window, suddenly clutched Drew by the arm. “Look!” he exclaimed. “Look, Chief! Over toward the big house!”
The Detective drew back from his study of Harrigan. He turned on the seat and followed Delaney’s pointing finger. He clamped his jaw shut with a click of strong teeth.
“Somebody’s coming out of Stockbridge’s,” said the operative.
“Quek!” signaled Drew. “Watch, closely,” he added in a whisper.
A girl came through the doorway and opened the iron-grilled gates. She paused and glanced north and south through the curtain of down-falling snow. She turned with resolution and hurried along the east side of the Avenue. She was at the corner opposite the taxi, when Drew reached and opened the door with sly fingers.
“Tail her,” he ordered. “Right after her, Delaney. I’d know that little lady in a million.”
“Who is she, Chief?”
“Loris Stockbridge!”
“Sure?”