CHAPTER XXX.
GLADWIN COMES OUT OF HIS SHELL.
“What the”–––
The spurious aristocrat and art collector suppressed his torrid exclamation. The impulse moved him to seize the uniformed butter-in and pitch him through the nearest window. He was big and powerful enough to do it, too.
In the furious glance he got, Travers Gladwin read a warning that in an earlier stage of his career would have made him feel mighty uncomfortable. Now he liked the smell of danger and met the message of wrath without a flicker.
“What’s that you’ve got there?” the thief, having mastered himself, asked, pointing to the grip.
“’Tis the bag you asked for, sorr,” drawled Gladwin.
“I told you to pack it,” said the other, sharply.
“All packed, sorr. Hunting clothes, shirts, ties, socks”–––
He looked up with a boyish grin and the big chap was stumped for a moment. The thief said slowly: