“If that’s the lady, sorr, I’ll go and let her in.”
“No, you wait here,” the other objected. “She might be frightened at the sight of a policeman––you stay here. I’ll let her in myself,” and he strode swiftly out into the hallway.
CHAPTER XXIX.
IN WHICH THE HERO IS KEPT ON THE HOP.
Travers Gladwin watched the big handsome mis-presentiment of himself disappear into the hallway with every nerve at full strain.
As he heard the door open, then a delighted feminine cry and the unmistakable subtle sound of an embrace, he ground his finger nails into his palms and bit his lips. Every fibre of him burned with jealous hatred of this impostor.
If there had been only more of the brute left in the Gladwin strain undoubtedly there would have been a sensational clash between the two men for the benefit of the beautiful young girl who, Gladwin strove to acknowledge, was the helpless pawn of circumstances. But the refinements of blood rob the physical man of his savage resources and impose a serious hamper upon his primordial impulses.
Helen came into the room with the thief’s arm about her waist while Gladwin stood dumbly at attention, his features hardened and inscrutable.