He was about to place his hand on her heart when Gladwin was seized with a paroxysm of coughing. The thief straightened up and turned scowlingly upon the young man.
“Say, what’s the matter with you, McCarthy?”
“Murphy, sorr,” Gladwin retorted. “Me throat tickled me.”
“Well,” returned the other sharply, “if you would move around as I told you, your throat wouldn’t tickle you. Get something to pack these paintings in. There isn’t anything in this room––go upstairs and get a trunk.”
“I don’t know where there is none, sorr,” Gladwin objected.
“Well, look around for one––a small empty trunk, and be quick about it.” He spoke with crackling emphasis.
Stung to the quick by the overbearing insolence of this command, it required a prodigious effort for the young man to control his voice. He said with difficulty:
“I was thinking, sorr––suppose––the––trunk––is––full?”
The thief squared his broad shoulders and walked threateningly toward Gladwin. He stopped directly in front of the young man and said through his teeth, slowly and deliberately and without raising his voice:
“If the trunks are full––now listen carefully, because I want you to understand this––if the trunks 196 are full, then empty one. Do you get my meaning? Take the fullness out of it, and after you have done that and there is nothing more left in it, then bring it down here. Now do you think you get my idea clearly?”