“Yes, sir.”
“And there’s no other way out save through the front door or by way of this balcony behind those curtains?”
“No, sir.”
“And,” still running his finger over the diagram, “on the floor above are Gladwin’s apartments.”
“Yes, sir, at the head of the stairs––first door to the left.”
“H’m, very good,” slipping the diagram back into his pocket and lifting his eyes to the great portrait of the ancestral Gladwin.
“Ah!” he exclaimed suddenly and with palpable relish, “that’s a Stuart! Is that the great-grandfather, Watkins?”
“Yes, sir,” responded Watkins, without any of his companion’s enthusiasm.
“H’m,” with the same grim emphasis, and off came the overcoat to be carelessly tossed across his hat and stick. His eye fell upon the great antique chest by the wall.