"Was your father's name Edwin Gladwin?" asked Mrs. Burton, looking at him with a swift change of expression as he led her back to the room he called his den. "Yes," said the young man, "but if you will excuse me I will endeavor to get rid of all these policemen." He suddenly darted from her and descended the stairs. CHAPTER XLI. THE ESCAPE. While he had not the slightest notion where the picture expert had managed to conceal himself during his own enforced absence from the scene of the chase, Travers Gladwin was confident that the man was capable of outwitting an army of the sort of man-hunters who were swarming within and without the aristocratic premises. When he caught sight of Whitney Barnes and Sadie in a tender confab that was just about to frond out into the full foliage of a romantic climax, it was on his tongue to bid them carry their hearts upstairs and string them together in a more secluded spot. They beat him to his own suggestion, and were gone before he could utter a syllable. He had the great drawing room and picture gallery to himself and was scanning every corner of it when a voice punctuated the silence. "Ah, Mr. Gladwin!" The young man turned quickly and saw what he at first mistook for a uniformed constable emerge from the portières that screened the window. "Well, if it isn't"--he began in gaping surprise. "Murphy, sorr, only a tighter fit." Wilson stepped through the curtains twirling his club. "So you are 666 now, eh?" Gladwin blurted. "And Phelan"---- "The gentleman who belongs in this tight-fitting frock? Oh, he's still about." "And you managed to bribe him?" "Not exactly that, Mr. Gladwin--say I persuaded him." "My hat is off to you again," exclaimed the young man, "but don't waste any time. You can get away easily in that uniform--quick, and good luck." "I never hurry in these cases," returned the thief, with an air of calm indifference. "You see, I have an idea that the Captain and Kearney are waiting for me at the front door, for they made a loud declaration that they were going to search the cellar. I have had similar experiences, my young friend." "But they won't leave the front door, and they may burst in here at any moment," protested Gladwin. "But they will leave the front door when I want them to," said the other, softly. "By jove, you're a wonderful chap!" "I've got to be to keep out of jail." "It's a shame that you misdirect your energies and genius," said the young man, earnestly. "But you must acknowledge that I work hard for what I get." "Yes, I do." "And I really love pictures." "For themselves?" "H'm, yes--for themselves." Travers Gladwin stood frowning at the floor for a moment, then looked up quickly. "See here, then--you've worked mighty hard for my pictures and I'm going to give you a few of the best of them. Here!" And Gladwin stepped over to the corner of the room where the trunk had been dropped and picked up a bundle of canvases.