“But I think I understand,” she went on hurriedly. “I had quite a large sum of money, several thousand dollars, in my room here!” Durkin, who had stooped to unlock the door, turned on her quickly. “And it’s still in this room?” he demanded. “No; it worried me too much. I was going to keep it, but I took it down to the bank, this afternoon.” Then the girl said “Sir!” wonderingly; for Durkin had emitted a quick mutter of anger. They were doubly defeated. By this time the bedroom door was open. “Ah, I thought it would be a woman,” he went on coolly, as he glanced at Frank’s staring and wide eyes. “And, if I mistake not, Miss Van Schaick, this is Number 17358, at the Central Office.” Frances knew his chortle was one of hysteria, but still she looked and wondered. Once more Durkin flashed his badge as he took her firmly by one shaking wrist. “Come with me,” he said, with quiet authority, and step by step he led her out into the hallway. “Not a word!” he mumbled, under his breath, as he saw her parted lips essay to speak. “It’s really too bad!” broke in the girl in the dressing-gown, half-relentingly, with an effort to see the prisoner’s now discreetly downcast face. “You won’t say so, later,” retorted Durkin, toying to the full with the ironic situation. “An old offender!” Even the bibulous butler, in the doorway, shook his head knowingly at this, thereby intimating, as he later explained, with certain reservations, to the second maid, that he all along knew as much. Durkin pushed the gaping servants authoritatively aside. “Have these people watch the back of the house—every window and door, till the Inspector and his men come up. I’ll rap for the patrol from the front.” Durkin waited for neither reply nor questions, but hurried his charge down the stairway, across the wide hall, and out through the heavy front doors. The audacity, the keen irony, the absurdity of it all, seemed to make him light-headed, for he broke into a raucous laugh as he stood with her in the cool and free night air. But once down on the sidewalk he caught her shaking hand in his, and ran with her, ran desperately and madly, until the rattle and clatter of a bell broke on his ear. It was a patrol-wagon rumbling round from the Avenue on the east. He would have turned back, but at the curb in front of the Van Schaick mansion already a patrolman stood, rapping for assistance.