An ingenious mystery, its theme a criminal's revenge upon a conscienceless financier. He is shot after a telephone warning and the story has to do with the saving of his daughter from a similar fate.
Drew reached across the table and clutched the magnate's left wrist. He pulled out a flat watch and timed the pulse. "Normal, almost," he said softly. "You're normal, despite the shock. Your temperature is fair. I don't think it was a toxin he meant. That deadens a man and brings slow coma."
"Well, what did he mean?" The magnate had found his voice and his old-time nerve. "What would you do in my case?" he said cunningly.
Drew glanced at the telephone. He raised his brows and swung, full-staring, upon Stockbridge. His finger pointed between the money-king's eyes. It was as steady as an automatic revolver.
"Did you recognize that voice?" he asked sharply. "Tell me the facts. I can't go ahead unless you do. I must work from facts!"
"No!" declared Stockbridge. "No, I did not! I never heard it before. I----"
"What was it like?"
"Hollow-whispering--almost feminine in tone. I thought it was a woman at first. It wasn't, though! It was a man or boy."