“Do you know where my niece is?” she demanded.
“Oh, yes, she’s here, only you’re breaking my arm.”
“Where is she and where is that fiend Gladwin?”
“Oh, the fiend Gladwin just went upstairs to her. She’s upstairs asleep.”
“Asleep!”
“Oh, I don’t know––go up and find her, that is––I beg your pardon––I’ll lead the way––come, Miss Sadie.”
The handcuffed youth led the procession up the stairs, leaving Officer 666 as solitary sentinel in the great drawing room and picture gallery.
“Well, I guess I’m dished fer fair,” groaned Phelan as he mournfully surveyed the deserted room and allowed his eyes to rest on the portrait of a woman who looked out at him from mischievous blue eyes.
“An’ all fer a pair o’ them eyes,” he added, wistfully. “’Tis tough.”
He might have gone on at some length with this doleful soliloquy had not a hand suddenly closed over his mouth with the grip of a steel trap.