It was dark as a pocket down the stretch of the heavily curtained foyer, save for a meagre shaft of light that came through a slightly parted pair of portières to the left and not a dozen feet from where he stood. He strained his ear toward this shaft of light until there came an unmistakable swish of sound, whereupon he moved forward in short, gliding steps.
When he reached the break in the portières and looked in he was astonished to see a short little man with shiny black hair deftly removing the linen covers from chairs and tables and statuary. The little man had his back to Phelan as the policeman stepped inside, but he turned in a flash and confronted the intruder with the peculiar glazed grimness of the Japanese.
“Well, what matter?” ripped out the little Jap, without moving a muscle.
“That’s what I come to find out,” retorted Phelan, with accusing severity of tone.
“How you get in here?” retorted the Jap in the same sharp, emotionless tones.
“I saw ye snakin’ in an’ ye didn’t latch the door after yez,” blurted Phelan, taking a step nearer the Jap and still watching him with profound suspicion.
“What you want?” asked the Jap with a slight tremor of apprehension.
“Information!” cried Phelan. “What are yez 46 doin’ in here?” Phelan’s eye swept the room for some evidence of an attempt to despoil. Though he saw none he did not relinquish his attitude of suspicion. The Jap seemed about to speak and then stopped. As Phelan continued to glower at him, he snapped out:
“I no can tell.”
Triumph blazed in Phelan’s eyes. Now he was sure he had a thief and he determined to handle the situation with all the majesty of his official person.