“I can’t say that I have, sir.”
The detective lifted his brows and stared at the cage. “Repeat that,” he said to Delaney. “Repeat what we heard in the library.”
“Ah, Sing! Ah, Sing! Ah, Sing!” boomed the operative.
The magpie ruffled its feathers and darted about the cage like a sparrow in a barrel. “Keep it up,” said Drew.
“Ah, Sin! Ah, Sing! Ah, Singing!” roared Delaney.
“That’ll do! You’ve frightened it. Let it alone for a while. We’ll keep it here, Otto. I’ll send it back in a few days. How’s Miss Stockbridge bearing the strain, up at the house?”
“She hasn’t left her room, sir. Mr. Nichols called. The Red Cross people called. There’s been lots of callers, sir, but she hasn’t appeared, sir. It’s early, though.”
Drew glanced at his watch. “That’s all,” he said. “You may go.”
The door closed softly as the valet bowed, replaced his hat and passed out without glancing back.
“A good servant,” said Drew, rising and kneeling down beside the cage. “Now, Delaney,” he added tersely. “Now, old sleepy head, we have the key to the case locked here. I don’t doubt but that you unconsciously struck the right clew when you bawled your little hymn. You said, ‘Ah, Singing.’ Now couldn’t that be Ossining?”