MacShane. "In there-in the dining room-"

"Has anyone called the station?"

"Sure, I called 'em," said the old woman, evidently efficient even under stress.

"They'll be sendin' a detective over," said Riley. "No one leaves-that's understood."

He passed on into the tragic room where the candles were burning. Hurrying to Mary Will's side, I began once more the tale of my adventures since finding the millionaire's body. As I spoke in a low voice I thought she looked at me in an odd way. My heart sank. Was even Mary Will going to doubt my story?

Riley returned.

"It's hard to realize, Mrs. MacShane," he said. "He was a kind man-you know that. Many's the time, on cold nights, he had me in from the misty streets for a drop-but no matter."

There was a brisk knock at the front door, and a figure muffled in a huge coat stepped into the hall. Close behind came two policemen in uniform. At sight of the figure leading the way, Riley was all respect.

"Sergeant Barnes-you are needed here," he said.

"Yes!"

The voice of Detective Sergeant Barnes rang out sharp and alive and vital in that house of dim shadows and far memories. He slipped off coat and hat and tossed them down on a chair. I saw that he was a cool, quick little man, bald of head, unsympathetic of eye, business from the word go.

"Henry Drew?" he snapped.

Riley nodded. "In the dining room-about forty minutes ago," he said.

"Myers!" Detective Barnes turned to one of the uniformed men. "You take the front. Murphy-the back door for you." The two men left for their posts. Barnes stood, staring about the room. "Drew had a son. Mark Drew-lawyer-Athletic Club. I don't see him here."

"He's on his way, sir," said Mrs. MacShane. "I called him. Sure, I thought of him right away, though why I did I don't know, for not in five years has he set foot in this house-"

"All right," the detective cut her short. He was still studying that odd little group: Parker, sneering, unmoved; Carlotta Drew, shaken a bit in the face of a consummation she had no doubt long desired; Mary Will, young and innocent and lovely; the old Irish woman with the tears still wet on her cheeks; and the yellow Chinaman standing patient as a beast of burden by the stairs. And finally he looked at me, whose enemy lay low at last beside the fifty candles.

"No one leaves this house until I have completed my investigation," he announced. "You stay here, Riley, and see to that."

"Yes, sir," said Riley, with a determined look about our circle. Sergeant Barnes strode into the dining room.

"A merry party-to brighten up the old house-to get things going in a friendly way again." The words of the old millionaire spoken in his car as we rode uptown came back to me. How different, this, from the party Henry Drew had planned! No one spoke. Each sat wrapped in gloomy thought under the glare of Riley.