Whispering Wires

  CHAPTER TWO

  "THE MAGPIE"

  The Munition Magnate thrust a shaking hand toward the detective. "I'mglad!" he declared raising his voice. "You did well in the Morphy case.That's the reason I called upon you. Now find the miscreant ormiscreants, who telephoned the cemetery superintendent, and you'll notbe forgotten."

  Drew glanced shrewdly at the 'phone. "May I use it?" he asked briskly."I'll try to trace that call."

  Stockbridge moved his chair away from the little table. Drew glidedacross the room, pressed the ash-trays and match-boxes to one side, andpicked up the receiver. He worked the hook up and down with his broadthumb.

  "Hello! Hello!" he repeated clicking the hook. "Hello, central! Hello!"

  He glanced at Stockbridge as he waited. He frowned as he stooped andspoke more directly into the transmitter. "Hello! Hello!"

  "Something the matter?" asked the Magnate with quick suspicion. "Don'tthey answer?"

  "Hello! Hello! I Hello, there!" Drew glared at the transmitter, thentapped the receiver against the silver-plated cover. "Hello!" heshouted. "Damn it, Hello!"

  He turned. "No go," he said thoughtfully. "Connection seems to bebroken. I'm talking right out into thin air. Wonder who cut yourwires?"

  Stockbridge bristled. He slid forward in his great chair and stared atthe detective. "They're cut, eh?" he asked.

  Drew set the 'phone on the table and turned. "Looks mighty like it," hesaid. His eyes swung over the walls of the splendid room. They restedupon a high, ebony stand with a belfry from which dangled a gilt springsuspending an ornate bird cage. Out of this cage, a magpie peered withbeaded eyes. Its tail extended up through the bars like a feather froma hat.

  "My bird," said Stockbridge. "A tame magpie I brought from Spain. Ittalks."

  Drew raised his brows. He continued his search of the library. Itswealth of books and paintings and antiques almost stunned him. "I'mlooking for another 'phone," he said, lowering his voice to a whisper."Have you another 'phone in this house?"

  "Yes. Two more. This is Gramercy Hill 9763. The one in Loris' room isGramercy Hill 9764. Another in the butler's pantry, downstairs, is9765. Perhaps the others are disconnected."

  "We'll see. I want that call traced before it gets cold. I know a wirechief at Gramercy Hill Exchange. He'll help if I can get him. Have yourbutler show me his 'phone. Also, we better get a trouble-hunter, orreport the cut wires. Somebody will pay for this! It's an outrage and afelony!"

  Stockbridge moved his slippered foot and pressed a button under thelarger table. He waited, then pressed again. His eyes wavered about theroom. They fastened upon the portieres which draped from the poleacross the doorway leading into the hall. His tongue moistened dry lipsas he watched for the butler.

  "I'll 'phone my office," said Drew hurriedly as steps were heard in thehall. "I'll get up five operatives--no, six--right away. This all maybe a hoax, but I've lived forty-one years too long to overlook a threatof this kind. Particularly when it concerns a man who has made as manyenemies as you have."

  The butler parted the portieres as Drew ceased speaking. Stockbridgenodded and indicated that the detective wanted to go downstairs. Thebutler led the way to the lower telephone. Into this, Drew spokehurriedly and very much to the point. He secured three numbers in rapidsuccession. He snapped his orders in a manner to set the cut-glasstinkling on the pantry shelves. He hung up the receiver, glancedshrewdly at the servants about, then climbed the stairs like a boy oftwelve.

  "All is set!" he announced to Stockbridge as he entered the library andcrossed to the table. "All moving, now! My wire-chief had gone home. Igot the chief operator. She's going to send the first trouble-manhandy. Delaney will be up from the office with his flying squad. I leftit to him to arrange about tracing the call through a telephoneofficial. No use telling the chief operator too much. The official willgo right over her head and into the heart of the thing. Now,"--Drewpulled down the lapels of his black coat and leaned over the Magnate."Now," he said with vigor, "now, what about your servants? I had a goodlook at some of them. How about that English butler? How long have youhad him?"

  "Ten years! Brought him over, myself. Wife picked the other servants.They're all old, tried and trusted. I'll answer for them. She diedtelling me to take care of them. I don't think her equal lived inchoosing help. It was uncanny!"

  Drew stroked his cropped mustache. "Good!" he said. "That's fine! We'llstart with the supposition that they're _not_ guilty. Are any of themof German birth?"

  "My valet is part German, but he ran away to avoid their army. He hatesthe Junker party. Says 'It is responsible for the War.'"

  "How long have you had him?"

  "Nine years."

  "That should let him out. Well," Drew added with a sweeping glanceabout the library, "well, these big windows--how about them?"

  The detective advanced to the front of the room as he asked thequestion. "Two," he mused. "Two bay-windows of the superior order.Curtains very heavy and rich. There's a good catch on this one," headded springing upon the radiator-box. "And a good catch on this one.Both catches are closed. Seem to have been closed for some time. Here'sdust. High-class housekeeper, but I've got her here."

  Drew smiled as he ran his fingers over the upper sash. He peered outinto the Avenue with its flowing tide of vehicles. He turned and saidto Stockbridge:

  "Suppose you order your butler or doorman to shut the outside blinds.It's getting dark and cold. I want to be sure that no one can getthrough this way."

  "Good," said Stockbridge reaching for the button with his toe. "Good!We'll take every precaution. Twelve hours will show the thing one wayor the other. Twelve hours should do it."

  The butler entered bearing a silver tray. He set this on a mahoganytea-wagon and rolled it to the Magnate's chair. Drew frowned at thesight of a black bottle and one glass. A signal of understanding hadbeen sent to the perfect servant.

  Stockbridge moistened his thin lips thirstily. He whispered theinstructions concerning the blinds. The butler withdrew like a shadowmerging into a shadow. Drew shrugged his shoulders and went the roundof the library with the keen, trained scrutiny of a man-hunter and amodern operative. He paused before a case of morocco-bound books."These cases?" he asked. "How about them? What's behind?"

  "Books! Books!" shrilled the magpie.

  Drew raised his brows and swung upon the bird.

  "Books! Books!" repeated the pet. "Books, books, books!"

  "Fine bird," said Drew with thought. "But what is behind the cases, Mr.Stockbridge? I don't want to move them if the walls are all right."

  A glass clicked against the silver tray as the Magnate answeredhastily:

  "All right! They're all right. I was here when they were filled. I justordered so many feet of books. Six hundred feet, I think it was. Inever look at them. All that I ever read is the magazines and thefinancial items in the newspapers."

  "The pictures--paintings," Drew said.

  "Pictures! Pictures!" repeated the magpie.

  "Shut up!" snarled Stockbridge. "Keep quiet, Don!"

  The bird ruffled its feathers and leaped to a top perch. It peered fromthere at Drew, with its head cocked sideways.

  "How about them?" repeated the detective.

  "I had them hung by my orders," Stockbridge said. "They're all right.Nothing but a strong wall behind. No need to bother about them."

  "Everything is important," Drew suggested with a slight reproof in hisvoice. "Trifles may make for the answer to the riddle."

  "That Corot over there is no trifle. It cost me thirty-five thousanddollars in France!"

  Drew lifted the lower edge of the painting from the wall. Dust fell. Hepressed his face against the paper and looked behind the canvas.Letting the frame back he tried the same operation with the otherpaintings of size.

  "No secret panel, or anything queer," he said finally as he dusted hishands. "All's well with the walls. Now the floor. How about trapdoors?"

  "Impossible!" Stockbridge exclaimed. "
I'm sure these rugs have beentaken out and cleaned every time I go to my country-place. A trapdoorwould be noticed!"

  "I'm trying to find out," suggested Drew glancing from the bottle tothe purple face of the Magnate. "Please answer me if you want to getresults. I've got to see that no one comes into this library for thenext twelve hours. After that period of time--we can breathe easier."

  "Go on," said Stockbridge feeling the thrust.

  "This door," Drew said. "The door to the hall. Can it be lockedsecurely?"

  "Yes! It can be locked and bolted from the inside. I often lock myselfin--in----"

  Stockbridge stiffened in his chair. He glanced toward the portieres. Heleaned forward and attempted to shield the view of the quarter-emptiedBourbon-bottle and the used glass, as a girl in lavender and Irish-laceswept into the room.

  Drew recognized Loris Stockbridge from newspaper photos. He held hisbreath as she glided by him, unseeingly. He touched his mustache andwaited. Her face, framed in close-drawn hair the color of midnight sky,softened perceptibly as she swished round the great table in the centerof the library and laid an unjeweled hand upon her father's shoulder.

  She turned with a start as she realized that Stockbridge was not alone.Drew bowed with swift courtesy.

  "Mr. Drew," said the Magnate. "Mr. Drew, my daughter, Loris."

  Again the detective bowed. He met her level glance with a smile in hisbrown eyes. She answered it and leaned over her father's shoulder. Drewwheeled and fell to studying the titles on the books. He moved to themagpie's cage. He extended one finger. The bird fluttered and sprangfrom perch to perch.

  Drew thrust his hands into his pockets. He heard Loris speaking interse, throaty tones to her father. He could not well avoid catchingthe tenor of their conversation. It concerned the letter from thecemetery and the threat of death within twelve hours, which the Magnaterepeated to her with a softness in his aged voice.

  A gushing torrent of unbridled emotion poured down upon his gray head.The girl paced the floor between the chair and the table. She fell toher knees with swift grace.

  "Be careful, father," she sobbed. "You must be so careful. Rememberyou're all that I have, now. That letter and that telephone call meansthat somebody is planning to destroy you. Oh, father, be careful. Whatwould happen if you were taken away from me?"

  "You'd marry that cad--Nichols!" blurted Stockbridge. "I'm the onething that stands in his way. You'd marry him--wouldn't you?"

  The girl rose proudly. Drew, from the shadow outside the rose-light,studied the slender figure crowned with a close-drawn turban ofblue-black hair. His eyes ranged down to her slipper heels. They liftedagain. He stroked his chin as he waited for her answer. It cametruthfully enough and with high spirit.

  "Yes, I'll marry him some day. I want your permission, but with it orwithout it, father, I am going to marry him. He's a captain in theArmy. Doesn't that prove he is not all the things you said he was?"

  "Good girl," said Drew in whispered admiration.

  "It proves nothing!" exclaimed Stockbridge stiffening in his chair andhalf rising. "He's a cad and an ass under all his uniform. He's toopoor to be considered for one moment. I want my daughter to marry----"

  "Whom she pleases," said Loris. "Harry may be poor, but he's not tooproud to fight!"

  "Bah! They get those uniforms so the girls will notice them. What doeshe know about war?"

  "He's been at Plattsburg for three months. He's in town on furlough.He's helping us with Red Cross work. Isn't that noble!"

  "That part's all right," said the Magnate. "I want you to keep him fromme, that's all. I believe he's half German!"

  "He's not! Harry is all-American. His mother was born of German parentsin this country. His father was Canadian. You've heard of the Nicholswho built part of the Grand Trunk Railroad. Was he German?"

  Stockbridge paled under the torrent which gushed from the girl's lips.

  "Well, all right," he said resignedly. "Don't bring him here or allowhim to call. I've too much to think about to worry over Harry Nichols.You better go to your room and think things over."

  Loris glanced at her wrist-watch. She leaned with quick motion andkissed her father on the forehead. She turned at the portieres andthrew back her head.

  "Good-by, Mr. Drew," she said prettily. "I hope that you have not beenannoyed."

  The detective, naturally quick at answering, found his tongue tied inhis mouth. He stammered a reply, which was too late. Loris swishedthrough the curtains, leaving the room empty for her passing.

  "A mighty fine girl," was Drew's whispered comment. "They don't oftencome like that. She's very high class. She's got spirit. I'd hate tosnatch a delusion from that young lady--Harry Nichols, for instance."

  "Come here!" broke in Stockbridge.

  Drew crossed the rugs. He stood by the magnate's side. He watched himpour out a half-glass of Bourbon and take the whisky neat. He frowned."Well?" he asked.

  "Not a word from your men or the telephone company?" asked Stockbridge,wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "That's queer, isn't it?"

  Drew took out his watch. He replaced it after a glance at the dial. Hiseyes wandered to a little Sevres clock on a book-case. "It's time forboth," he said. "It's----"

  "There's somebody now--go see," Stockbridge whispered tersely."Somebody is in the hallway."

  The portieres parted and revealed the beef-red face of the Englishbutler. He advanced a step.

  "The trouble-man from the telephone company is 'ere, sir," he said."'E's 'ere! 'E's been hover the junctions in the halley, sir. 'E'slooked at the junction-box. 'E says, sir, there's no trouble there. 'Esays 'it must be in 'ere, sir.'"

  "In 'ere, sir," repeated the magpie with a loud squawking and rustle ofwings. "Junction-box! Junction-box!" it cried with its head through thegilded bars.

  "Shut up, Don!" ordered Stockbridge. "Be a good bird," he addedsharply. "Now, Straker, you may show the trouble-hunter up."

  "Trouble-hunter! Trouble-hunter!" echoed the magpie.

  Drew, somewhat amused, thrust his hands in the pockets of his coat andeyed the opening between the curtains. A click of tools soundedmetallically. A shambling step was in the hallway.

  "This woiy," said the butler in a superior tone. "Right this woiy,you!"

  The portieres parted. A slouching figure, with a greasy cap drawn fardown over the eyes, entered the library with a lineman's satchel on hiship. He swung the strap from his shoulder, glanced at Stockbridge andthen at the detective. He dropped the satchel to the floor andscratched his head.

  "Take a look at this 'phone," said Drew. "Go over the wires. Look forany cuts. The trouble ought not to be in here."

  Stockbridge rose and made room for the lineman, who lifted the satcheland strode to the 'phone. He dropped to one knee by the little table.He fished forth a testing-set from his shirt. It was bound with twoleads of cotton-insulated wire.

  "I'll test here," he suggested, clamping a set of claws into the wireswhich came through the molding and entered the ringing-box.

  "Hello!" he said. "Hello, this you, Saidee? Say, Saidee, give meFranklin Official, seventeen. Yes ... all right! Hello! This you,Tupper? Say, Tupper, I went over the junction-box in the alley back ofthe house. Everything O. K. there. I'll go over the leads in the house.Loose connection somewhere, I guess."

  A clicking of tools followed as the lineman selected a pair of pliers.They rattled over the binding-posts at the receiver. They tightened theconnections. He went over the transmitter, and then every inch of theexposed wiring. He removed the cover of the ringing-box and examinedthe connections. Replacing this cover, he rose with a puzzledexpression.

  "All right," he said to Stockbridge, who was standing with his backturned. "It's all right here, sir. I don't find a thing. See--it's allright."

  The trouble-hunter lifted the receiver from the hook. "Hello," he saidin a low voice. "Hello, Saidee. Say, Saidee, what number is this onyour board?"

  The lineman glanced around the room. His eyes
widened. He whistled withnaive admiration. "Hello," he said softly. "Yes ... Gramercy Hill 9763.That's right. O.K. Tell Franklin Official--tell Tupper that I tookforty minutes on the job. Forty minutes at time and a half. Don'tforget that. Yes ... bridle--everything, all right, Saidee. See youlater."

  The trouble-hunter reached for his satchel. He hitched it over hisshoulder.

  "Hold on!" said Drew. "What _was_ the trouble? Why couldn't we getCentral?"

  "You can search me--sir. It wasn't in this room, mister. That's aWestern-Union cinch!"

  "Where was it?"

  "I don't know."

  "How about the junction-box in the alley? Could it have been there?"

  "Well it could--come to think of it. I scraped an' cleaned th'connections to make sure. They're all right now."

  "Did you see anybody about?"

  The lineman hitched up the satchel and scratched his ear. "Seems to me,I did. A fellow climbed over the fence from the back yard of this housejust as I swings in from the side street. It was snowin' a bit an' Icouldn't see very well."

  "What kind of looking fellow?" snapped Drew with awakened interest."German?"

  "You took th' very words right out of my mouth," said thetrouble-hunter. "He looked like a German."

  "Describe him! Tall, fat or small?"

  "I wasn't near enough to notice for sure. Tall, I think. He went outthe alley and turned toward Fifth Avenue."

  "Could he have called us up from that junction-box?"

  "Sure--if he had a set of testers like this." The lineman tapped hisshirt with his left hand. "He could have talked with you, but hecouldn't ring your bell without a magneto or an alternating current ofsome kind."

  "Could he have cut the wires and connected them again without Centralnoticing anything out of the ordinary?"

  "He might. But who would do that, sir?"

  "That's all!" said Drew in dismissal. "Here's a dollar. Keep stillabout your visit here. We may want you later."

  "Want you later," repeated the magpie.

  Drew turned toward Stockbridge as the lineman shuffled through theportieres. "Queer," he said. "Tall fellow, eh! That's the man who cutin and threatened you. We'll get him! I'll go out and see if Delaneyhas arrived. Two hours of the twelve have passed. Ten more should seeyou safely out of it."