"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."
"They can't get away----" started Delaney.
"Here's your bird!" announced Drew, as a knock sounded on the door. "Move over and let that valet stand there. I want the light in his eyes when we're talking to him. Always get the light in the other fellow's eye. Sisst!"
The door opened to a crack--then wide. The valet came in with an important strut. He turned and deposited a cage at Delaney's big feet. The operative moved back with a grunt of disgust. He eyed the cage and contents with a homicidal expression. His eyes raised and fastened upon the valet. He hooked his broad thumbs in the arm-holes of his vest and took a deep breath.
"I hope you're satisfied," he said to Drew, who was smiling. "I hope this black sparrow don't start anything. I'll finish it, sure."
"What's your name?" asked the chief, turning and consulting a paper.
"Otto Braun," said the valet. "Otto Braun, sir."
"Born in Cologne ... year, sixty-three ... worked as valet and major domo for British families ... came to America with Mr. Stockbridge, and have been with him since?"
"That's correct, sir," the valet said, with a start of amazement.
"Both, sir. I'm paying a small alimony to both."
Delaney grunted. His foot went out toward the magpie which had finished hopping about the perches of the cage, and was listening with head cocked sideways.
"You--you have charge of this bird?" asked Drew, turning fully around and facing the valet with heavy-lidded intentness.
Delaney coughed explosively. He leaned down to cover his confusion. He jabbed a thumb at the bird.
"It's savage," he rumbled. "It pecked at me!"
"Easy," warned Drew, with a quick frown. "Easy, Delaney. I want to get to the facts of this case. We're wasting time."
"I've had you come down here," said Drew, turning to the valet, "in order to find out about that magpie. You had charge of it when Mr. Stockbridge was alive?"