Part 35 (1/2)

CHAPTER x.x.x.

GLADWIN COMES OUT OF HIS Sh.e.l.l.

”What the”----

The spurious aristocrat and art collector suppressed his torrid exclamation. The impulse moved him to seize the uniformed b.u.t.ter-in and pitch him through the nearest window. He was big and powerful enough to do it, too.

In the furious glance he got, Travers Gladwin read a warning that in an earlier stage of his career would have made him feel mighty uncomfortable. Now he liked the smell of danger and met the message of wrath without a flicker.

”What's that you've got there?” the thief, having mastered himself, asked, pointing to the grip.

”'Tis the bag you asked for, sorr,” drawled Gladwin.

”I told you to pack it,” said the other, sharply.

”All packed, sorr. Hunting clothes, s.h.i.+rts, ties, socks”----

He looked up with a boyish grin and the big chap was stumped for a moment. The thief said slowly:

”Now take it up to my room and unpack it.” It was his turn to grin.

”What, sorr?” asked the dismayed Gladwin.

”I shan't want these things after all,” came the velvety rejoinder.

”Unpack it carefully and bring it back here. And kindly be more careful of the stairs when you come down--one step at a time, _please_! Now, what are you waiting for?”

Gladwin withdrew reluctantly, stealing a glance at Helen as he sidled through the curtained doorway. Her eyes never left the face of the man she thought she loved, but whose character was being swiftly revealed to her in a new light.

That resourceful individual waited only for the blue uniform to pa.s.s through the portieres, when he sprang forward and reached out on both sides for the heavy mahogany folding doors. He brought them together swiftly and softly, then ripped down the portieres from the pole, flinging one to the left of the door and the other across the chest.

”Now listen, Helen,” he cried, seizing her roughly by the shoulder.

”It may be that we will have to get out of here in a hurry.”

”W-w-w-hy, what's the matter?” she stammered, wincing at the crus.h.i.+ng grip of his hand.

He replied with a swift rush of words that fairly stunned her:

”Your aunt may find it out and try to stop us. Now I shall be on the lookout, but I want you to do everything I tell you--I'll see if the coast is clear in case we have to go out the back way. In the meantime I want you to wrap these pictures for me. I wouldn't ask you, dear, only we haven't a minute to wait.”

He darted across the room and opened the narrow door that led into the backstairs corridor. Helen stared stupidly after him until he disappeared and then turned toward the chest and went to work wrapping up the precious canvases like one in a trance. She had scarcely started when the folding doors opened noiselessly and Bateato stuck in his head.

Fearing that some harm had come to his master the little j.a.p had left the Ritz and sprinted all the way to the Gladwin mansion. He was breathless and wild-eyed, yet he had entered the house as silently as a breath of air.

Peeking into the room Bateato noted the ripped-down portieres and devastated picture frames. His Oriental mind told him but one thing--robbery. Seized with a violent spasm of loyalty to his master he brushed into the room and exclaimed:

”Whatz thees? Oh, h.e.l.l--d.a.m.n!”