“Well, go ahead.” And Phelan crossed his eyes in an effort to include in the focus both Gladwin and the thief de luxe, whose splendidly groomed appearance impressed him the more.
On his part the thief was leaning carelessly against a cabinet looking on with the expression of one both amused and bored. What he had noticed most was that Helen kept her eyes averted from him as if she feared to look at him and that she had palpably transferred her allegiance to Gladwin. When she had recovered some of her self-control she followed that young man’s words eagerly and obeyed his slightest signal.
“I will explain to you, Phelan, as soon as I see this young lady started for home,” Gladwin ran on, and proceeded with Helen toward the entrance to the hallway.
“Hold on! Yez’ll not leave this room,” Phelan stopped them, his suspicions again in a state of conflagration.
“But I only want–––”
“I don’t care what yez want,” Phelan snorted, blocking the way. “Yez’ll stay here.”
“Oh, well––just as you say,” returned the young man desperately, “but I will have to ask my man to escort this lady out and put her in a taxicab. Bateato”–––
“Bad Pertaters ’ll stay where he is.”
Phelan was visibly swelling with the majesty of the law.