Officer 666 Part 38

"Here--here--put down that trunk," spluttered Phelan, brandishing his club at Watkins. Watkins dropped the trunk and at a signal from his companion was gone. Swiftly and silently as he vanished, he could not have been half way to the door before the thief urged Phelan:

"Quick--go after that man--he's a thief!"

"Stop Phelan!" cried Gladwin, who had begun to see through the pantomime. "They're both thieves!"

Phelan tried to run four ways at once.

"W-w-what?" he gurgled.

"It's a trick to get you out of the house," said Gladwin with his eyes on the big man, who was calmly smiling and who had fully made up his mind on a magnificent game of bluff.

"What the blazes kind of a joke is this?" blurted Phelan, looking from one to the other in utter bewilderment.

"You'll find it's no joke, officer," said the bogus Gladwin sharply--"not if he gets away."

"You'll find it's not so funny yourself," cut in the real Gladwin.

Then to Phelan, "Arrest this man, Phelan."

"Do you mean it?" asked the astonished Phelan, sizing up the thief as the highest example of aristocratic elegance he had ever seen in the flesh.

"Of course I mean it," Gladwin shot back. "Look out for him--there he goes for the window."

The thief had started in that direction, but his purpose was not escape. The idea had flashed upon him that Helen might be concealed there. Phelan headed him off, whereupon the thief said severely, in a tone that was far more convincing that Gladwin's most pa.s.sionate sincerity:

"Now be careful, officer, or you'll get yourself into a lot of trouble."

"Don't let him bluff you, Phelan," cautioned Gladwin.

"You bet your life I won't," Phelan answered, though he was already bluffed. "I'll stick close to yez," he faltered, inching uncertainly toward the thief.

He had come close enough for that astute individual to make out that he wore the same uniform young Gladwin had been masquerading in and he made capital of this on the instant.

"How do you think it is going to look," he said, impressively, "if I prove that you've tried to help a band of thieves rob this house?"

"A band of thieves?" Phelan's jaw dropped wide open.

"He's lying to you," cried Gladwin.

"I said a band of thieves," insisted the thief. "Why he's got his pals hidden all over the house."

"I tell you he's lying to you," Gladwin cut in frantically, seeing that Phelan was falling under the spell of the big man's superb bluff, and at the same time remembering Helen and pressing the b.u.t.ton in the wall to warn her that the time had come for her to flee.

"We're the only ones in this house," Gladwin pursued, as Phelan gave him the benefit of his pop-eyes before he yielded them again to the stronger will.

"Then they've all escaped," said the thief, easily, thrusting his hands in his pockets to help out his appearance of imperturbability.

"You let one go out, Phelan, and there were two others beside this one."

The b.u.t.tons on Phelan's coat were fairly undulating with the emotions that stirred within him. In his seething gray matter there stirred the remembrance that Bateato had told him that women were robbing the house.

"You mean the women," he said, ignoring Gladwin and addressing the thief. "I remember--when the little j.a.panaze called me oft me beat, he said there was women crooks here, too."

"He's lying to you, Phelan," persisted Gladwin, though with less vehemence, a great feeling of relief having visited him in the belief that Helen had made her escape. "You can have the whole place searched just as soon as you've got this man where he can't get away. There are no women here."

This last declaration had scarcely pa.s.sed his lips when a woman's voice raised in hysterical protest was audible in the hallway.

CHAPTER x.x.xIII.

BATEATO SUMMONS BIG MUCH POLICE.

A vitagraph film of Bateato's journey to and from the police station would consist of a series of dark brown blurs. If you have ever noticed a mouse in full flight you will have some idea of how that j.a.p ran. He knew where the police station was, too, for he had been there once when his brother, Itchi Comia, was arrested for a.s.saulting a Russian peddler.

If the little j.a.p had only coursed through another street things might have gone somewhat differently in the Gladwin household, for he would have encountered Whitney Barnes hurrying in the opposite direction, and that young man would very likely have prevented him from going to the station.

But there was absolutely no obstacle in Bateato's way until he reached the station house, and the only obstacle he encountered there was a serious impediment in his speech.

Police Captain Stone had returned to barracks a few minutes after the departure of Barnes and a few minutes before the arrival of Bateato.

He was standing beside the lieutenant's chair when the j.a.p sped in, and he seemed almost interested (for a police captain) at the extraordinary manifestations of emotion in Bateato's countenance.

"All pleece--quick--robbers--thieves--ladies!" began Bateato, then paused and made wild jabs above his head with his hands.

"Crazy as a nut," said the lieutenant in an undertone to the captain, and the captain nodded.

"All pictures--thieves--steal ladies!" was Bateato's second instalment, and the captain and lieutenant looked at each other and shook their heads.

"Big much pleece!" shrieked Bateato, made some more motions with his hands and rushed out into the street.

"It's j.a.p whiskey," said the captain, musingly, utterly unimpressed.

"He isn't crazy. That j.a.p whiskey's awful stuff. They licked the Russian army on it. He'll run it off. If you ever see a j.a.p runnin'

you'll know what's the matter."

Bateato ran a block and then stopped.

"h.e.l.l d.a.m.n!" he exploded. "I no tell where house."

He ran back to the station and burst in again with even more precipitation.

"I no tell house," he rattled off. "Mr. Gladwin--Travers Gladwin.

Big lot white house--Fifth avenue--eighty, eighty, eighty.

Quick--thieves--ladies!" and he was gone again before Captain Stone could remove his cigar from his face.

The captain looked at the lieutenant and the lieutenant looked at the captain.

"Maybe he ain't drunk, Captain," ventured the lieutenant. "There's that Gladwin house on the books. It's marked closed and there's a note about a million-dollar collection of paintings."