“Cradle snatching––abduction,” jerked out Kearney, unfolding the paper.
“That is rich!” laughed the thief.
“I got the warrant from”––Kearney stopped and his little bullet eyes went to work on the thief from the ground up. He was measuring every inch of the man with an eye that had been trained for years to keep tabs on a multitude of marked and measured men.
“Would you mind coming over here––a step or two closer, Mr.––Gladwin?” he said tensely.
The thief stepped toward him and directly under the electrolier, while the others in the room stood like statues, looking on.
As Kearney continued his searching examination of the unflinching and still smiling man, whose head was 244 on a level with his and whose body was every inch as big and well set up, Captain Stone broke in nervously:
“What is it, Kearney?”
“I think there’s some mistake, sir,” said the detective, grimly. “Are you sure this man is Travers Gladwin?”
“You seem to be in some doubt about it,” said the thief, dropping his thumbs in the pockets of his waistcoat and raising his chin a little. Whatever was going on inside him, his eyes were twinkling with amusement.
“I am,” Kearney retorted; then to Captain Stone, “What is this case Captain?”