“I don’t want him to escape,” said Gilmore, making a dive for the young man, who was just passing out of the doorway.
The burglar was a powerful man, but he was little more than a baby in the hands of the man he sought to detain.
He was whirled from his feet in an instant, and thrown against his two companions, who were now advancing to assist him.
Before the three men could do anything more to keep the young man from leaving the room, he had closed the door with a bang and darted through the restaurant to the street.
When Gilmore opened the door the fugitive was out of sight.
“Why didn’t you catch him?” demanded the proprietor. “The man is a thief, and the racket out here was nothing but a scheme to steal some private papers from my room.”
“He went through like a flash,” explained the cashier.
“Nixon followed him,” replied a waiter.
“I am glad that one employee has some sense,” growled Gilmore. “When Nixon comes back, send him to my room.”
Nixon was an old crook, who had been brought on from New York to keep track of things in the restaurant.