“He has, Chief! He’s got a gilded cage with the damnedest looking bird in it I ever saw. It ain’t a parrot and it ain’t a crow. It’s a blue-jay or something like that!”
“Show him in!” Drew said. “Show him in. You can wait, Delaney!”
“MEN AND MOTIVES”
The two detectives leaned back in their respective chairs and eyed each other. Both swung and stared out of the window at the swirling snow which salted across the window in an unending curtain of white. Both returned to the locked stare so common to men who have worked together in danger and know each other’s merits.
Delaney’s eyes dropped first. He studied the rug beneath Drew’s polished shoes. He coughed behind his hand, and turned with a shrug of his shoulders. He fastened upon the closed door a glance of expectancy which brought a smile to the chief’s lips.
“Things are picking up,” said Drew, with a short laugh. “Your friend—the bird—has arrived.”
“My friend?” blurted the big operative. “It’s no friend of mine! I’d wring its neck, gladly.”
“It may be the key to the whole thing. Smarter men than the ones we are fighting have fallen through less. You remember Eddy, The Brute, who left his umbrella after him in the Homesdale Murder Mystery. Funny, wasn’t it? Took three months to plan the murder and left his rain-stick behind. His initials were on it.”