A moment later Wilson peeked out and re-entered the room. He had scarcely left his place of concealment when Officer No. 666 burst in.
“Oh, there ye are, Mr. Gladwin!” said Phelan, with a lovely grin.
“Yes, I’m here,” nodded Wilson.
“I just come back with another bunch of cops,” said Phelan, “but I hear the crook got away. He’s a smooth snake fer ye.”
“No, I think he’s still in the house,” laughed Wilson, “and I’d like to have you get the credit of catching him, Phelan. You go outside and report to the captain, then come back here. Maybe I can help you find him.”
“Thank ye, sorr,” said Phelan, obeying the suggestion.
“Here comes another one,” breathed the thief, hearing a heavy tread and crossing the room to the big ornamental fireplace which had never known a spark or speck of soot. There was a mammoth opening in the chimney and Wilson vanished up it as Kearney plunged back into the room.
As the detective entered through the panel door, Watkins in full chauffeur regalia appeared from the hallway.
“Well, who sent you?” Kearney pounced on him.