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The voice of Barnes was very cool and unfriendly.
“I recognize your interest,” he said. “If there is any clew I have not considered—any matter you think I should investigate further———”
Mrs. MacShane came into the room, bearing a tray of steaming coffee cups. She placed her burden on a table.
“I—I hardly know,” stammered Drew. “I’m not criticizing you, Sergeant, but—there are the fifty candles. Yes—by heaven—the fifty candles! There’s mystery in them. Whose birthday is this?”
Mrs. MacShane suddenly lifted her head and came over into the center of the group.
“I know whose birthday it is,” she said.
“You know?” cried Drew. “Then in heaven’s name tell us!”
“Your father explained it to me tonight,” the old woman went on. “He come into my kitchen with the fifty little
