“Now look here, Captain––” broke in Gladwin, making furious, yet vain, gestures at Bateato.
“Silence!” Captain Stone cut him off again.
“I admire this chap’s nerve, Captain,” laughed the thief. “It’s monumental. He very nearly succeeded in bluffing Officer Phelan, but I guess you can take care of him all right––I must hurry off and get an expert to repair the damage done to these valuable paintings. Of course, you’ll leave a man or two on guard.”
Once more he gathered up his stick and overcoat and once more his exit was blocked––this time by Whitney Barnes.
It was only natural for that young man to misread the situation and conceive that Mrs. Elvira Burton had succeeded in her object of arresting his friend. So he blurted breathlessly:
“By Jove, Travers, I see I’m too late. I’ve been all over the city trying to warn you––I knew the police were on your track.”
“Who the devil are you?” Captain Stone cut in on him.
“Another of the gang,” responded the thief promptly. “He’s got some story trumped up that he thinks will get him off.”
“Well, we’ll let him tell it then, and you”––indicating the thief––“had better wait and hear it.”