“Do you mean it?” asked the astonished Phelan, sizing up the thief as the highest example of aristocratic elegance he had ever seen in the flesh.
“Of course I mean it,” Gladwin shot back. “Look out for him––there he goes for the window.”
The thief had started in that direction, but his purpose was not escape. The idea had flashed upon him that Helen might be concealed there. Phelan headed him off, whereupon the thief said severely, in a tone that was far more convincing that Gladwin’s most passionate sincerity:
“Now be careful, officer, or you’ll get yourself into a lot of trouble.”
“Don’t let him bluff you, Phelan,” cautioned Gladwin.
“You bet your life I won’t,” Phelan answered, 220 though he was already bluffed. “I’ll stick close to yez,” he faltered, inching uncertainly toward the thief.
He had come close enough for that astute individual to make out that he wore the same uniform young Gladwin had been masquerading in and he made capital of this on the instant.
“How do you think it is going to look,” he said, impressively, “if I prove that you’ve tried to help a band of thieves rob this house?”
“A band of thieves?” Phelan’s jaw dropped wide open.
“He’s lying to you,” cried Gladwin.