"For the love of God," he gasped, wide-eyed, "who are you?"
"Quick," I cried, "is this your house?"
"Of course it's my house," he cried back, retreating as I advanced. He suddenly side-stepped and planted his thumb on a call-bell.
"Good!" I said. "Get your servants here quick. We'll need them!"
"Who'll need them? What's wrong? What's up?"
"I've got two burglars locked in that room."
"Burglars?"
"Yes, and they'll have a nice haul if they get away. Have you got a revolver?"
"Yes," he answered, jerking open a drawer. I saw that his firearm was an automatic.
"Where's the telephone?" I demanded, crossing the room to the door that opened into the hall.