"Quick, men, cover the doors--don't let any one get out," yelled Captain Stone, pivoting on his heel as his eyes vainly sought the picture expert. "He's gone!" cried Kearney. "Yes, up the stairs--I hear him," yelled Gladwin. "There are two back stairways and the roof. There are two basement exits--post your men out there, and down through that hallway on the left--the panel door--that leads to the kitchen. Barnes, you and Bateato take the young lady up to my study--quick!--I'll look after this room." The most remarkable thing about it was that every command the young man shouted was obeyed. Even Kearney was fooled and rushed headlong up the stairs, followed by two policemen and Barnes, who was yelling: "Hey! come back here and unlock me! How can I hunt that chap with these handcuffs on?" He might as well have appealed to the moon. Bateato fairly dragged Helen up the stairs after him and guided her to the magnificently furnished study and den to the right of the staircase, when he switched on the lights and became furiously active in the interest of the young girl's comfort. Captain Stone had rushed out into the street and posted men on the stoop and at the basement exits; then, followed by the last lone patrolman of his squad, he darted through the alley at the side of the mansion which led to the rear yard. The emptying of the room was accomplished in a few seconds, whereupon Gladwin hastened to the doorway, reached for the folding doors and hauled them to, fastening the latch. Next he shut the door to the kitchen hallway and fastened that, when, with a sigh of relief, he walked to the long carved oak table that flanked the window, hoisted himself on it, produced his gold cigarette case, took out a cigarette, set fire to it, snapped the case and returned it to his pocket. While he inhaled a deep breath of stimulating smoke his eyes were fixed upon the great chest directly in front of him. He was sitting easily on the table, kicking his legs, and he continued just in that attitude when the lid of the chest lifted a few inches and a small brilliantly nickelled revolver came out and covered him. "I'm waiting for yez, Misther Gladwin," chuckled the young man. By some strange psychologic freak he was not in the least dismayed by the ominous menace of that shining muzzle, which gradually came further out as the arm and head of the picture expert followed it. Once the thief had glimpsed the young man and made out that they had the room to themselves he came out of the chest as lightly and noiselessly as he had enveloped himself in it. But his smile was gone now and in its place there was the wariness of the hunted animal. Still covering Gladwin and surveying the room he said in low, level tones: "If you move it'll be the last act of your life, McGinty." "Murphy, sorr," purred Gladwin, his face abeam. "I like your nerve, young un." "I've been taking lessons from the man who invented nerve."