 Chapter 24 of Officer 666—Officer 666 by Barton W. Currie and Augustine McHugh. Chapter 24. Auntie takes the trail. Mix a tablespoon full of cornstarch with a quarter of a cup full of water. Stir this into a cup full of boiling water and boil for two minutes. Then add the juice and rind of a lemon and a cup full of sugar and cook three minutes longer. Beat an egg very light and pour the boiling mixture over it. Return to the fire and cook a minute longer, stirring all the while. A most tasty lemon sauce. To hell with these lemon sauces! Exploded Michael Phelan, hurling the book across the room and bounding from his chair. Sure, and I'll never be able to look a lemon in the face again. Lemon, lemon, lemon. These blame books are filled with them. It is a lemon I am myself, and all for a lemon-colored bill. But I'll not stand it a minute longer. Shut down into this tomb with nothing but mice for company. We're ah, we're ah, Rosa Neal. But your blue eyes and your black hair and your devilish smiles have spelled me finish. Phelan rung his hands and took a turn around the room. Now and again he stopped and shook his fist at the ceiling, and at last beside himself he made a rush for the door that led to the stairway. Opening a crack he listened. Nothing but heavy silence beat down on him from above and he shivered. He looked back into the kitchen and his eye fell in the pile of cookbooks. With a muttered oath he flung himself through the doorway and crept upstairs. He had to feel his way through the narrow slit of a corridor above, and it was with an immense sigh of relief that he opened the door and stepped into the great drawing-room he had left. In the dim light of the one glowing lamp he made out Whitney Barnes deep in the embrace of a great chair and sonorously asleep. So that's the way he's keeping watch, hissed Phelan through his teeth, as he fairly pounced across the room. First he seized the young man's feet and threw them from their resting place to the floor, exclaiming as he did so. Here, you, wake up! Yes, dear, mumbled the young man in his sleep, I could abide with you always. Don't just be after deer and me, snarled Phelan. Wake up! Barnes opened his eyes and asked thickly, What's the matter? What he is doing there? cried Phelan. What am I doing here? rejoined Barnes, now wide awake and getting on his feet. Why, I'm keeping watch at the window. On guard, as it were. On guard, is it? snorted Phelan. On guard and snoring like a bazoo. It is a fine night watchman you'd make. But, say, ain't you seen nothing of Mr. Gladwin since? Now, I told you, officer, returned Barnes severely, that I would let you know just as soon as he returned. I have been keeping guard here, and no one could enter the house without my knowing it. You will kindly return to the kitchen and wait. And you got no word from him? asked Phelan in manifest distress. No, with emphasis. Oh my, oh my, complained Phelan bitterly. Sure, this is the worst muddle I ever got myself into. The sergeant will find him in that uniform. Sure. It'll cost me me job. That's what it will. How late is it now? Barnes consulted his watch. Five minutes past ten. Holy Moses! If I ever get out of this scrape, I pity the man that offers me money for the lend of me uniform again. I'll grab him by the— A sharp ring at the doorbell cut him short, and wrote another chapter of tragedy in his countenance. Hello, there's someone at the door, spoke up Barnes. You'd better go and see who it is, officer. Me, gurgled Phelan, me, and walk into the arms of Sergeant McGinnis. Let him stay out, whoever it is, or use go yourself. All right, said Barnes, and in case it should be your friend McGinnis, you'd better go and hide in the kitchen, like a brave officer. I'll let you know when it's time to come out. Phelan did not budge as Barnes left the room, but stood muttering to himself. Oh, the devil did I ever let myself in for this thing. I don't know. That's what love does to you, a plague on all women. If— Helen! Helen! Where are you? cried a shrill feminine voice that seemed to clutch the very heart of Michael Phelan with a grip of ice. Holy mother! What's that? he breathed, backing away from the door. Help! Murder! Police! was born in on him in even more agonized tones. And before he could move another step, Mrs. Elvira Burton burst into the room, flushed and wild-eyed, in the throes of one of her famous fits of hysterics. Phelan took a backward leap as she came toward him, and she yelled, Stop! Stop! Where's my niece? With his eyes almost out on his cheeks, Phelan managed to articulate. What, ma'am? You know what I mean. Don't deny it, Mrs. Burton shrilled. I don't know what you're talking about, protested Phelan, backing toward the doorway that led to the kitchen. The hysterical woman stopped, struggling for breath. When she could speak again, she said fiercely, Who are you? I—I— Phelan began. Tell me who you are, or I'll have you arrested. I'll call the police. Oh, for the love of heaven, don't call the police, begged Phelan, still backing toward the door. Then tell me what you are doing here. I'll answer no questions, cried Phelan. With a desperate backward leap, he gained the narrow doorway behind and vanished. He pulled the door shut and clung to the knob, hearing the muffled demand hurled at him. Here! Come back here! Helen! Helen! I want my niece! Oh, Helen! Come to Auntie! Then Barnes and the other pretty ward of the distraught, Mrs. Burton entered the room. The young man had stopped Sadie in the hallway to ask a few questions and endeavored to soothe the frightened girl. He had taken possession of her hand again and still held it as he led her to the door of the drawing-room. They did not attempt to enter until after the precipitated disappearance of Michael Phelan. As Mrs. Burton stood looking helplessly at the closed door, her ample bosom heaving and her breath coming in short hysterical gasps, Barnes was whispering to Sadie, Ah, Miss Sadie, I can't tell you how overjoyed I am at seeing you again. And so that's your Auntie. Fancy that chap refusing to meet her. Why? That was as far as he got. Auntie suddenly wheeled round and caught sight of him. Ah! Glad when! she screamed and made a rush for him. With all his characteristic aplomb and insouciance, Whitney Barnes was unable to face such a rush with any degree of calmness. No! No! A mistake! he retorted and sought to sidestep. Mrs. Burton was too quick for him and seized his arm in an iron grip. Where is Helen? What have you done with her? she demanded in the same wild tones. I don't know, stammered Barnes. You have hidden her somewhere and you must give her up, stormed the woman. You're a scoundrel! You're a kidnapper! You're a wretch! She flung Barnes from her with all her strength and he slammed against the wall. She was about to charge upon him again when Sadie rushed between them. Oh, Auntie! she cried. This is not Mr. Gladwin. Of course he isn't, chimed in Barnes, trying to shake himself together again. He isn't Mr. Gladwin at all. Then who are you? cried Mrs. Burton. Oh, he's someone else, Sadie assured her. Yes, you bet I am, continued Barnes, striving his best to appear his usual jaunty self. I'm someone else entirely different. I'm not Gladwin in the least. What are you doing here? shout out Mrs. Burton. Ah, that's it, he responded. I'm on guard, keeping watch. I knew it. I knew it. And the shrill voice rose to a plangent pitch again. You have hidden her away. Helen! Helen! Helen! Now, now, now, my dear lady, broken Barnes, soothingly. I'm not your dear lady, she flashed on him. My dear Auntie, Mrs. Burton's hysteria was becoming contagious. I beg your pardon, he added hastily. Your niece, Miss Helen, is not here. I've been watching for hours and she's not here. No one is here. That shirt-sleeved man is here, and you're here. But Auntie, he's a friend of Mr. Gladwin's, interposed Sadie. Aha! I knew it! screamed Mrs. Burton. He's in the plot. And again she plunged for him, crying, You're his friend. You're helping him to steal my niece. But you shan't. I'll prevent it. I'll search the house. Come, Sadie! Barnes dodged skillfully and permitted Mrs. Burton to pass out into the hallway. Sadie was about to follow when the young man stopped her. But I must go with Auntie, Sadie objected. Never mind, Auntie, now. I want to tell you about your cousin. Then you've seen her? No. But you know where she is? No. Then what can you tell me about her? Everything. Sit down, please. Remember, you asked me to help you, and I promised to do so. Mrs. Burton had managed to switch on the lights in the big reception room back of the hallway and was searching behind curtains, under books, behind pictures, and in innumerable other places, after the manner of hysterical women. I said I would help you, you know, ran on Barnes. Yes, and Sadie looked up into his eyes confidently. Do you know why I promised? No. Why did you? Barnes bent down toward her and said with all the ardor he could command, Because from the moment I saw you I became your slave. When I saw how distressed you were about your cousin this evening, my heart went out to you. The instant you left I decided to act, and I've been acting ever since. Oh, how kind! What have you done? I've watched. Watched? Yes, watched. You don't understand that, but it's a very serious matter. If you only knew how serious this whole thing is, you'd realize how I am trying to help you and the risk I am taking. Oh, how noble of you! How brave you are! And if Mrs. Burton had waited another moment before returning to the room, she would have had another case for hysterics on her hands entirely separate and independent of Helen's allotement. I can't find her. I don't believe she's in the house, wailed Mrs. Burton. Barnes regarded her dumbly for a moment and then said slowly and ponderously, My dear lady, I assure you that she is not in the house. If you'll only listen a moment. I won't listen, Mrs. Burton snapped him up. Sadie jumped to her feet and rallied to Barnes's defense But auntie, this gentleman has been doing everything he can to help us. Everything. He's been watching. Watching? Watching what? demanded auntie, suspiciously. Ah, that's it. What? What haven't I been watching for hours? cried Barnes. But what have you been watching for, Mrs. Burton shrilled? Four hours? What? I mean for yours and Miss Sadie's sake, and now if you'll wait here and watch with me. Now I see it all, stormed Mrs. Burton, shaking her hand at Barnes wrathfully. You want to keep us here. Helen and that scoundrel have gone and you want to prevent our following them. No, auntie, he's trying to help us, sobbed Sadie. He's lying to you, child, said Mrs. Burton, shooting vindictive glances at Barnes. Don't you know he's a friend of that wretch Gladwin? But they can't hoodwink me. I know what to do now. Helen is not of age. I'll swear out a warrant. I'll have him arrested for a moment. I'll have him arrested for abduction, a state prison offence. No, no, no, implored Barnes in real alarm. You must not do that. That will make the whole thing public, and that is just what Gladwin is trying to avoid. Don't you suppose I know that? sneered Mrs. Burton. He's probably a bigamist. He may have a dozen wives living, the beast. But won't you understand, insisted Barnes. He's trying to save her privately. Now, what are you talking about? Mrs. Burton regarded him as if she had suddenly realized he was a raving maniac. And by way of justifying her inspiration, he stumbled on blindly. I don't know. You see, it's this way. Gladwin and I only found it out this afternoon, quite by accident, and we decided to save her. That's enough. Stop! cried Mrs. Burton. You're talking all this nonsense to detain us. But I won't stay a minute longer. Come, Sadie, we will go to the police station. I'll never rest until I have that monster in jail. And with another dagger glance at Barnes, she swept her knee sent herself out of the room and out of the house to the waiting automobile. Barnes gripped his forehead in both hands to steady his reeling brain. Isn't that just like a woman? he complained. After explaining explicitly, she's going to have him arrested. But by Jove, I must find Travers and warn him that the police are on his track. Seizing his hat and stick, he rushed out into the night. Just in time to see Mrs. Burton's, or rather, Jabez Hogg's, big car glide away from the curb and shoot down the avenue like a vast projectile. End of Chapter 24. Recording by Roger Maline. Chapter 25 of Officer 666. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Roger Maline. Officer 666 by Barton W. Currie and Augustine McHugh. Chapter 25. Phelan meets his uniform again. About the time the Gladwin mansion was ringing with the shrill staccato outbursts of Mrs. Elvira Burton, the owner of that luxurious dwelling was leaning against the central park wall a few blocks away, engaged in earnest conversation with a small boy. You ought to be in bed, the young man was saying severely, looking down at the lad and noting how thinly he was clad and yet how little he appeared to suffer from the sting of the chill night air. Bed-nutton, responded the boy curtly. I'm looking for me dog. Did you have seen him go by? He's a thoroughbred and lost one ear battling with a bull. Oh, so you're her brother then, laughed Gladwin. Whose brother? asked the boy suspiciously. Mays, said Gladwin, or I should say the brother of Miss May Henney. Hully G. ejaculated the boy. Did that kid skin out too after me and the old man telling her to stay in bed and shut up or bellerin'? Yes, said Gladwin. And the young lady, with my aid, found the valuable animal you're searching for, a black dog with a white spot over the right eye and no tail. Hully G. cried the boy ecstatically. She found him, eh? Well, who'd have taught it and me, looking for him, three hours. Where did she find him, Officer? His name's Mike, named after me old man's boss, what bites nails. We found him in the park in company with a disreputable friend, said Gladwin. A yellow mutt, asked the boy with a contemptuous emphasis on the mutt. That's the janitor's dog, and he's nothing but a tramp. I wished he'd fallen to river and get at by a catfish. I wouldn't wish him all that hard luck, laughed Gladwin, for he had a large bone he was sharing with Mike. I was watching them over the park wall when May came along. I sent them all and the bone home in a taxi cab. In a witch, ejaculated the boy while his eyes popped. In a taxi, said Gladwin, lightly. Ah, say! and the little chap's jaw fell. Now I know you're kiddin'. Where'd May get the price of a taxi, and— Oh, I arranged all that, the uniformed mystery explained, reassuringly. And if you'd like, I'll call one for you. You look pretty tired. I guess you've walked a good many miles on the trail of Mike. The youngster tried to speak, but he couldn't speak. But could not. The very thought of a ride in a taxi cab froze his brain. Gladwin took him by the hand and led him to the curb. Now, would you prefer a yellow or a red one? he asked. There's all kinds goin' by. Yaller! cried the boy. I likes them best. They had only a moment to wait, when one of the mystic yellow hue cruised round a corner and came toward them. Gladwin hailed it, and the chauffeur stopped with a wondering look at the pair. Gladwin had a bill ready in his hand and passed it up to the chauffeur. Take this boy over to number 287 East 80th Street, commanded Gladwin, and whatever you've got left out of the ten spot above what the meter registers, split the change with the boy, and as for you, son, padding the urchin on the head, you keep your eye peeled on the meter. Gee, will I! responded the boy. And as Gladwin opened the door, he hopped in and took up a perch where he could best observe the fascinating operations of the register. The chauffeur, a bullet-headed cross-eyed individual, squinted at the bill half a dozen times before he stowed it away in his pocket and set the meter. Then he made a swift, fierce scrutiny of Traverse Gladwin's face, shook his head, swallowed a mouthful of oaths, threw in the clutch, and spurred diagonally for the cross-street. As he vanished, the uniformed similitude of Officer 666 consulted his watch, made out that it was almost ten-thirty, and strode rapidly in the direction of his home. He wore a smile that was fairly refulgent. Wouldn't have missed this night patrol for a hundred thousand, he said inwardly, and they say that the life of a patrolman is a monotonous drudgery. Arriving at the stoop of his home, he reconnoitred the avenue in both directions, and then looked up at the black windows of the house. A sudden lull had come upon the neighborhood, and there seemed not a soul stirring. He sped lightly up the stoop and let himself in. He was surprised to find the lights burning brilliantly in the drawing-room, and no sign of barns. The heavy curtains, he saw, were carefully arranged to prevent the mirrored ray of light from showing outside. He took the further precaution, however, of turning off all but the single globe in one lamp. He speculated in the disappearance of barns until he heard a stealthy step approaching through the corridor that led to the kitchen. Without noise he glided to the window and concealed himself behind the curtains. He had scarcely hidden himself when the hinged panel that answered for a door opened slowly, and the countenance of Michael Phelan protruded itself into the room. The Phelan shoulders and embalm point still in negligee followed. Taking a cautious step forward, he uttered behind his hand, Psst! Psst! Hey, use dare! There was no answer, and Phelan worked his head round like a wary weasel muttering. Who was that woman, I wonder? She must have took that slim gym away with her. Masha! Masha, if they should call the police! Bad sess to that feller in his five hundred dollar bill. Murder! Murder! I'm done for! Traverse Gladwin had stepped out of the folds of the curtain. Hey there! he blurted. What he is up to? Holy St. Patrick! I'm gone now, sure, groaned Phelan, and trembled where he stood. Come, come, Officer, 666, laughed Gladwin. I'm only your ghost. Phelan exhaled a tremendous sigh of relief. The Lord be praised if it ain't his, he exclaimed delightedly. But where did you get that disguise? At a hair store. Madame Flynn's on Avenue A. Do you like it? laughed the young man. I didn't want any of my friends or neighbors to recognize me, you know. But for the love of heaven, where have you been all the time? asked Phelan, sinking into a chair and breathing hard. Patrolling my beat, I mean your beat, returned the young man, and keeping my eye out for my friend the burglar. Oh, I've had quite a party. When I got hungry I sent to the plaza for lunch, and sat on the park wall and ate it. And, by the way, I saw a friend of mine coming along in an automobile, and I arrested him for speeding. What? Phelan exploded, jumping to his feet and turning white as his boiled shirt. Yes, nabbed him for breaking the speed limit, Gladwin nodded, leaning back against a table and lighting a cigarette. For, for, for breaking the speed limit? For, for, you made an arrest? Exactly. He was going so slow he deserved to be arrested, and what's more, he was making love to a pretty girl without shame. I got in and told him to drive me to the station. Phelan threw up his hands with a groan. And did you take him to the station? How could I, chuckled Gladwin? I didn't know where it was. That is, your station. So I told him most any would do. We rode about a bit, and as he didn't seem anxious to be locked up, I compromised for fifty dollars. It was really quite simple, Phelan, and if I had only had more time, I might have got back that five hundred. You've lost me, me job! That's what you've done, moaned Phelan, while his brain reeled with pictures of police headquarters, trial rooms, and ruthless commissioners. Come, give me the uniform! he cried with a sudden accession of passion. What's that? asked the young man, quickly, his grin vanishing. Me uniform! rassed Phelan with a rush toward the young man. Give me me uniform, and let me get out of here. Gladwin dodged around the table, protesting. No, no, not yet. The burglar, that is, my friend, will be here any moment. Your friend! Phelan stopped, again a prey to bewilderment. Yes, yes, I explained all that before. The one I'm playing the joke on. You don't suppose I'm going to take it off now, do you? Is can bet your life yous are, roared Phelan, with another savage rush around the table. I've had enough of this, and too much. Now, just a minute, pleaded Gladwin. I assure you, everything is all right, and I'm not going to leave the house again. If anything happens, so you need your uniform, I'll be right here where you can get it. I'm not going to leave the house. Tell me, where's Barnes? Who? said Phelan, more calmly, and pausing in his pursuit. My friend, the one I left here. I don't know. There was a ring at the bell here a while ago, and in come a wild woman, and— Great Scott! I hope my friend wasn't scared off. If that fellow was to meet her here at ten-thirty, why, it's after that now. Here, Phelan, quick, help me put these covers on the chairs and things. Over there in the corner, back of the chest. He mustn't know that anybody's been here. Hurry, man, hurry! We haven't a second to spare. Phelan submitted to the breathless commands as if he were hypnotized, puffing and blowing like a porpoise as he struggled to slip the linen covers over the chairs. Gladwin worked at top speed, too, and just as he was covering the great chest, he gave a start and held up his hand. Sh! he whispered. There's a motor stopping outside. You go down into the kitchen and be ready to come up if you hear me whistle. But you'll promise you won't leave the house with them clothes, gasped Phelan. No, no, certainly not. Be quick now. I'll switch off this light and step out on the balcony. Close that door tight after you, and be sure you switch out the lights in the back hall. Gladwin only waited for the disappearance of Phelan and the soft closing of the door when he plunged the room into darkness. He could hear the click of a key on the front door lock as he groped his way to the window curtains and pressed back into the semicircular recess that led out onto a window balcony. As he did so, he unlatched the heavily-grilled balcony window, drew out his pen-knife, and slid a peephole in the curtain. End of Chapter 25 Recording by Roger Maline Chapter 26 of Officer 666 This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Roger Maline Officer 666 by Barton W. Currie and Augustine McHugh Chapter 26 Gladwin meets himself Standing as stiff and demovable as if he had been turned to stone, Traverse Gladwin peered with one eye through the narrow aperture he had slashed in the heavy brocade-portier. Still gazing into inky darkness, he could hear the cautious tread of two persons. His senses told him that one of the visitors was a heavy, sure-footed man, and that the other was of lighter build and nervously wary. His deduction ceased instantly as a flash of light crossed his vision. For a moment the concealed watcher saw nothing save the incisive ray of light that cut like a knife thrust through the darkness. Then, as he followed the shaft of light to its source, he made out the silhouette of a man in evening dress, a white shirt front, square shoulders that branched off into the nothingness of the cloaking shadows, and a handsome, sharp profile that lost itself in the gloom of a silk hat. He also made out a cane from which the flashlight beamed. It was a new device to the experience of Traverse Gladwin, and he watched it with the same fascination that a man as want to manifest in the gleam of a revolver muzzle that suddenly protrudes itself from the mysterious depths of night. The wielder of this smart burglar's implement did not move as he gassed the darkness with the ray of light, and to Gladwin he seemed inordinately calm. His companion was somewhere behind him, groping, and did not come into the picture until suddenly he found the push-button in the wall and switched on the full glare of the electrolyirs suspended from the ceiling. Gladwin saw and recognized. He drew in a deep breath of surprise. It was Watkins, the thieving butler he had discharged in London. His attention did not linger on this familiar soft-shuffling tool of the master thief, however, but snapped back to the big, good-looking young man with the branching shoulders and erect confident carriage. Used as he was to immaculate exteriors, Traverse Gladwin had never seen a better groomed man. He had never seen a man with a quicker eye and more unconscious grace of movement. It was no wonder that bitter envy nodded his heart for a little while, as there rose again before him the picture of that bewilderingly pretty girl and her passionate insistence that she would elope with Traverse Gladwin in spite of any and all obstacles. That, underneath all these splendid sheathings, the man had the mean spirit of a deceiver and a robber never entered the young man's head. But presently things began to happen with such avalanching rapidity of action that there was not even a second to spare for speculation upon the vast gap between their social positions. The lights had hardly been switched on before the big fellow put the sharp quarry to his companion. Watkins, is this room just as you left it when you went away with Mr. Gladwin? I don't know, sir, but I don't know what to say about it. I don't know, sir,' replied Watkins, with characteristic deference of tone. Badiotto the Jap closed the house. Said the other, laying his cane and hat on a table, and drawing from the pocket of his light overcoat a blue print diagram of the house. Casting his eyes about the room, he unfolded the diagram and pointed to it, nodding his head behind him for a Watkins to come and look. We're in this room now, he said easily. Yes, sir. Out that way is the corridor to the kitchen. He pointed to the panel-like door, which a few minutes before had swallowed the very much undressed Officer 666. Yes, sir. And there's no other way out, save through the front door or by way of this balcony behind those curtains? No, sir. And, still running his fingers over the diagram, on the floor above are Gladwin's apartments? Yes, sir, at the head of the stairs, first door to the left. Ah, very good! Slipping the diagram back into his pocket and lifting his eyes to the great portrait of the ancestral Gladwin. Ah! he exclaimed suddenly and with palpable relish. That's a steward! Is that the great grandfather, Watkins? Yes, sir, responded Watkins, without any of his companion's enthusiasm. Huh! with the same grim emphasis, and off came the overcoat to be carelessly tossed across his hat and stick. His eye fell upon the great antique chest by the wall. He lifted the lid to inspect its void interior. Glancing up above it, he motioned to Watkins and said, Here, help me get this out of the way! Watkins glided to one end of the chest, and together they hauled it clear of the wall. This done, he addressed Watkins as if he were but a creature to command. I can manage alone in here, but I want to be ready to leave by the time Miss Burton arrives. You go outside and wait in the car, and keep a sharp look out. Watkins bowed himself out with his stereotype. Yes, sir! and the door clicked gently after him. The now lone invader returned to his interested survey of the paintings that covered the walls, turning easily on his heel until his line of vision embraced the blue boy. From his difficult peephole, Traverse Gladwin could see the sharp stern features wrinkle with smiles before the intruder laughed lightly, and breathed with seeming great enjoyment. Ha! the blue boy! The smile went out as swiftly as it had come, and was replaced by an utterly different expression, as he swung about and visualized the Rembrandt on the wall above, where the great empty chest had stood. There was reverence and quick admiration in every feature as he bowed, and exclaimed with a long sigh, Rembrandt! Rembrandt! God, to paint like that! The emotions of this remarkable young man came and went with the quickness of his eye. While still in the act of outpouring his admiration, he whipped from the tail of his dress-coat a flat fold of a dozen or more sheets of wrapping paper, shook them out, and laid them on the lid of the chest. With another swift gesture, he produced a knife, sprang the thin gleaming blade, and walked up to the Rembrandt. He raised the knife to the canvas with the ease of a practised hand, when he heard a movement behind him, and turned his head. Traverse Gladwin had stepped from the sheltering screen of portiers, and stopped abruptly. Whatever shock this sudden apparition of a uniformed policeman was to the man, caught in the act of cutting a priceless canvas from its frame, he managed to conceal by taking tight grip of every muscle in his body. His eyes revealed nothing. There was no rush of colour to or from his face. His first change of expression was to smile. Dropping the arm that poised him, he let himself down easily from tiptoe, and turned squarely to Gladwin. Good evening, officer! he said, without a tremor, showing his teeth and as engaging a smile as Traverse Gladwin had ever looked upon. Evening! said Gladwin, shortly, with an admirable affectation of Phelan's brogue. Do you find something on the balcony that interests you? said the other, slowly, still holding his smile and his amazingly confident bearing. You climbed up there to enjoy the moonlight, perhaps? He added, even more softly, gaining reassurance from the wooden expression that Gladwin had forced upon his features. No, not the moonlight! responded the uniformed similitude of Officer 666. The other, like the other, looked as if he had seen him go on. This house has been closed for months. Oh, yes, to be sure, the other shrugged. You're most alert, officer, right on the job, as they say. I congratulate you. I've been watching this house ever since Mr. Gladwin went away, said Gladwin, slowly, unable to make up his mind whether to call Phelan or to continue the intensely interesting dialogue. His visitor decided the situation for him by coolly lighting a cigar, taking a few deliberate puffs and turning it over in his fingers to inspect it, as if it were the only object worth attention in the room. Gladwin read this elaborate bi-play for what it was worth, an effort to decide just how best to play his part, and was pleasantly thrilled with the realization that he himself was so well disguised in the uniform of Officer 666. So he clung to his own role and forgot Michael Phelan. Said the invader, reflectively. That's very good of you, officer. Let me offer you this as a slight token of my appreciation. His left hand slid into his trousers' pocket and brought up a roll of bills. His nonchalance was a perfect mask as he stripped off one of the bills and held it out carelessly to Gladwin. On his part, Gladwin's expression was superbly blank as he reached for the bill, pocketed it, and said with his purring brogue, Thank you, sir, and might I ask who you are? That's good, chuckled the other, now thoroughly master of himself and utterly confident. Now, who do you suppose, officer, would come to the front door, unlock it, walk in, and turn up the lights? A thief? They do sometimes, said Gladwin, cocking his head to one side with an air of owlish wisdom. The other raised his eyebrows to express surprise. Do they really? he drawled. You amaze me, officer. I've always supposed they broke in somehow and used dark lanterns. Not always, said Gladwin obstinately. The big man shrugged his shoulders contemptuously, puffed his cigar for a moment, and said indulgently, Well, I'm sorry, officer, to deprive you of the pleasure you would evidently derive in catching a thief and making an arrest. Now, with a light laugh, who might you imagine I was? Well, if I wasn't sure Mr. Gladwin was across the Atlantic, I'd imagine that yous were Mr. Gladwin himself. This was said with such laborious canniness that the thief made haste to discover just how the land lay. Oh, so you're sure Mr. Gladwin is abroad, eh? Well, I see by the papers. A real hearty laugh escaped this time, and he added brightly, Well, Mr. Policeman, I'll tell you something to help you make a good shrewd guess. Mr. Gladwin is not abroad. Then yous are Mr. Gladwin, sir? cried the young man eagerly as if delighted at the discovery. The other leaned back against the table, crossed one foot over the other, and said musingly, You found me out, officer. I must admit it. Permit me to thank you again for looking out for my house, and if you don't mind, I'll double this little reward. Again the roll of bills came out, and another $20 gold certificate was gathered in by Officer 666, who grinned as he took it. Thank you, sir! The gesture with which this second benefaction was bestowed was a gesture of dismissal, and the bestower set off on an easy saunter about the room, humming a tune. Officer 666 did not move, and after a moment, the other casually remarked, You don't seem to be in any hurry to get back to your post, officer. No, sir! I ain't in no hurry. Have a cigar, then! And one was offered with the same assumption of good-natured indifference that had accompanied the tender of the bribes. Gladwin accepted the cigar, took off his cap, dropped it in, and returned the cap to his head. The thief was puzzled for a moment, until it occurred to him that it would suit his purpose best to have this thick-skulled copper in his company, rather than have him go outside and discuss the matter with a more shrewd superior. Therefore, he said quickly, Oh, officer, could you be spared off your rounds for, say, an hour? Why, yes, sir, I think so. Well, I want you to do me a favor. I'll pay you well for it. What is it? You look to me like a chap who could keep a secret? That's part of me trade. Good. Well, then, I'm expecting a call from a lady. Oh, I see, sir, and Gladwin forced another fatuous grin. No, you don't see, said the other impressively. This lady is my fiancee. Well, that's your business, sir. Gladwin was beginning to enjoy the battle hugely. You don't understand, explained the thief. I'm about to be married. Oh, is there about to be married with a slight wint. Yes, I'm going to be married tonight, secretly. Is that so? Well, I can't help you's about that, can I? Oh, yes you can, because I want it kept quiet on the lady's account. Well, I'll help you keep it quiet on the lady's account, with an emphasis that got away from him, but was misinterpreted. Good, and out came the roll of bills again, and another yellow boy was slipped into the greedy palm of Officer 666. Thank you, sir, but what can I do, sir? I'll show you later on. In the meantime, help me take the covers off this furniture, and make the place look habitable. Hurry now, for I haven't much time. That's the idea, brisk. Switch on the hall lights. You can find the button. Then go upstairs and straighten my room. Glad when stopped in his activities as if he had run against a wall. Your room, sir? Yes, at the head of the stairs, first door to the left. Then come back here and help me pack. End of Chapter 26. Recording by Roger Maline. Chapter 27 of Officer 666. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Roger Maline. Officer 666 by Barton W. Curry and Augustine McHugh. Chapter 27. Misadventures of Whitney Barnes. Just as it had not occurred to Travers Gladwin to ask Michael Falon to define the limits of his beat along Fifth Avenue, so it happened that Whitney Barnes went forth in search of his friend without even the vaguest notion of where he might be found. It is doubtful if young Mr. Barnes knew what a policeman's beat was. Certainly he did not conceive of it as a restricted territory. He had gone about six blocks at his best stride, eagerly scanning both sides of the avenue before the thought came into his mind that he might be going in the wrong direction and that he might keep on indefinitely to the Staten Island ferry and obtain never a glimpse of the borrowed uniform of Officer 666. But I must warn the chap, he thought fiercely, or there will be the very deuce and all to pay. Whitney slowed down, came to a full stop, and was meditatively chewing the head of his cane when an automobile halted at the curb. A head thrust itself out of a window of the limousine and a musical voice asked, Why, Mr. Barnes, what are you doing here? Whitney Barnes guiltily jumped and barely missed swallowing his cane. Voll-planning to earth, he looked for the source of this dismaying interruption. He recognized with a start one of the past season's debutants. Whose mama had spread a maze of traps and labyrinths for him. Miss Sybil Hocker Sponge of New York, Newport, Tuxedo, and Lennox. Before he could even stutter a reply, a motor footman had leaped down from the box and opened the door of the limousine. Miss Hocker Sponge fluttered out, contrived her most winning smile, and repeated, Why, Mr. Barnes, what are you doing here? Her big doll eyes rolled a double circuit of coquetry and slanted off with a suggestive glance at the massive doorway of the Hocker Sponge mansion, one of the most aristocratically mortgage dwellings in America. It is rather late for a call, she gushed suddenly. But I know Mama. Impossible! cried Barnes. That is, I beg your pardon, I should be charmed. But the fact is, I was looking for a friend. I mean a policeman. Uh, you haven't seen a good-looking policeman going by, have you, Miss Sybil? All the coquetry and Miss Hocker Sponge's eyes went into stony eclipse. You are looking for a policeman friend, Mr. Barnes? She said, icily, gathering up her skirts and beginning to back away. I hope you find him. She gave him her back with the abruptness of a slap in the face. In another moment he was again a lone wayfarer in the bleak night wilderness of out-of-doors Fifth Avenue. Indubitably he had committed a hideous breach of good manners and could never expect forgiveness from Miss Hocker Sponge. She had really invited him into her home and he had preferred to hunt for a policeman friend. Yet the tragedy of it was so grotesquely funny that Whitney Barnes laughed and in laughing dismissed Miss Hocker Sponge from his mind. He must find Traverse Gladwin and off he went at another burst of speed. He covered about three blocks without pause. A second and far more sensational interruption came from a side street and again of the feminine gender. It was a tall, weird-looking figure wound in a black shawl and it bumped squarely into Whitney Barnes and brought him up sharply, spinning on one foot. Before he stopped spinning he felt himself seized by the arm. Without warning a bundle was thrust into his arms and he had to clutch it. In another instant the weird figure had fled up the avenue, turned a corner, and vanished. Instantly the bundle that Whitney Barnes held awkwardly and painfully, as if it were a firebrand, emitted an anguished wail. If that wasn't a pretty pickle for Whitney Barnes, his cane had clattered to the pavement and he did not dare stoop to pick it up. The anguish from the bundle he held increased terrifically in volume. He could feel beads of perspiration running down his face. What, in desperation, was he going to do with that awful bundle? He knew intuitively that the tall shawl figure would never return. My God! he cried. I'll be arrested as the father of it, and what will Seedy say to that? It was no wonder that the sun and air of old grim Barnes sweated. It wasn't perspiration. One doesn't perspire in such awful straightness. One sweats, like a navvy. It seemed ages before he could form the impulse to move in any direction for any definite purpose. He was on the point of making up his mind to lay the bundle in the doorstep, when he sensed a heavy step from behind, and was paralyzed by the gruff ejaculation. Well, I'll be damned! Barnes twisted his head and beheld a big, deep-chested policeman, a haughty, domineering policeman who showed in every inch of him that the gods had anointed him above the mere ranks of mortal patrolmen. Take it! Take it! cried Barnes, extending the bundle toward the uniformed presence. It's not mine! he almost shrieked. A woman gave it to me, and I have a very important engagement, and must hurry. Sergeant McGinnis, for it was none other, drew back and waved the bundle from him. Just a minute, my young friend, he spoke through one side of his large mouth. You'll hold that infant till its mother comes, or you'll go with me to the police station and tell your story to the captain. But I can't wait, wailed Barnes. I've got to find a policeman. A policeman, eh? Well, here's one for you and a sergeant at that. I mean a friend. It's horribly important. I'll give you anything you ask if you'll only take this howling bundle. None of that, young feller, McGinnis snapped him up. You'll give me nothing, and you'll come sharp and straight to the station. Now I know there's something back at this. But I haven't time, Barnes objected. It's most horribly important that I should find. Chop it, chop it. You'll come with me, and you'll lug that infant. If you won't come quiet, I'll slip the nippers on you. Barnes realized the hopelessness of the situation and looked about him wildly. Stop that taxi cab, officer, he urged as he saw one of the vehicles approaching. I can't walk like this. I'll pay the fare. I'll pay everything. McGinnis consented to this arrangement. The taxi cab stopped. A few minutes later it bore the sergeant, his prisoner, and the still howling infant to the threshold of the East 88th Street police station. McGinnis consented to carry the infant as they got out, and once inside the station lost no time in turning it over to the matron. Hello, McGinnis, said Lieutenant Einstein from the desk. What's all this? McGinnis explained in a few crisp sentences. Is the captain in, Lieutenant? He asked. This young fellow is after trying to bribe me. Barnes protested that such a thought had never entered his head. I simply told him, he declared hotly, that I had an important engagement. Looking for a policeman, he says. For a friend. I may have said policeman. I may have said anything in such a beastly situation. I am sure that when the captain hears me, he will understand immediately. That may be true, sir, said the Lieutenant politely. But the captain is out at present and won't be back till after midnight. If you want to, you can sit in the back room and wait for him. Further protestations were unavailing. With a sigh of despair, Barnes permitted himself to be led to the back room, where he dropped down on a chair and looked savagely about him. The room was empty and there was nothing to gaze at, save four blank walls, and a black cat sitting in a corner, idly washing its paws. Now and then a door opened, and a black cat sitting now and then a door opened, a face peered in, and the door shut again. Somewhere a clock ticked dolefully. An hour passed while the young man sought in vain to enchain his incoherent thoughts. He could think of nothing vividly. He could recall nothing at all. Whenever the wail of that infant the matron was caring for reached him, he writhed and ground his teeth. In this sad plight he remained until a door near him opened, and a man in plain clothes came stealthily in. He walked straight to Barnes, bent down, and whispered, If you've got a hundred dollar bill about you, drop it onto the floor and walk out. The lieutenant won't see you. The individual turned on his heel and went out the way he had come. He did not shut the door tightly behind him. Barnes felt that an eye was watching through the slit, so he lost no time in jumping to his feet, getting his money out of his wallet, and dropping two one hundred dollar bills on the floor. This done, he jammed the wallet back in his pocket, picked up his cane and gloves, and opened the door through which he had entered the room. He started warily forward with his eye straight ahead. He could feel that the lieutenant who sat behind the high-railed-off desk was the only person in the room, and he could hear the scratch of his busy pen. Gaining the street entrance, he drew an immense sigh of relief, opened it eagerly, and fairly leaped outside to the steps. As the door shut behind him, he thought he heard a sudden explosive laugh, but it meant nothing to him as he hurried along boy's way. Nothing to him as he hurried along blindly, increasing his pace at every stride. At the corner of Third Avenue he stopped and consulted his watch. It was midnight. End of Chapter 27. Recording by Roger Maline Chapter 28 of Officer 666 This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Roger Maline Officer 666 by Barton W. Currie and Augustine McHugh Chapter 28 An Instance of Epic Nerve Travers Gladwin scaled the great staircase three steps at a time. Stumbling against a divan, he threw himself across it and lay for a few moments, stretched on his back with every muscle relaxed. He felt as if he had been buffeted by mighty tempests and overwhelmed by cataclysms. His head throbbed with fever and he felt a sickening emptiness inside. How was he going to avert the catastrophe of an elopement, and at the same time save himself and that charming young girl from a shrieking scandal? There didn't seem any coherent solution. If Whitney Barnes had only remained with him, at least to lend him moral courage, where had the confounded ass gone? Why didn't he return? A fine friend in need was he. There was no time to unravel his perplexities and lay any definite plan. He must act, taking his cue as it was presented to him by the racing events of the moment. He got up from the divan and rushed downstairs. He cleared the last landing with a momentum that slid him across the polished floor of the hallway after the manner of small boys who slide on ice. He fairly coasted into the room, but his precipitated intrusion did not in the least disturb his visitor. During Gladwin's brief absence, that supernaturally composed individual had cut the Rembrandt from the frame and laid it on one of the sheets of wrapping paper he had spread out on the chest. He had also cut out a Manet, a Corot, and a Vegas, all small canvases, and hung them over the back of a chair. As the owner of these masterpieces skidded into the room, the thief was taking down a maissonier, frame and all, fondling it tenderly and feasting his eyes on the superb wealth of detail, and the rich crimson and scarlet pigments in the tiny oblong within the heavy guilt-mounding. Ah, officer, you are back, he said easily, as Gladwin staggered against a table and gripped it for support. The methodical dispoiler did not so much as turn his head as he placed the maissonier on the chest and deftly cut out the canvas. His back was still squared to the flabbergasted young man as he continued, Come, get busy, officer, if you are going to help me. Take down that picture over there on the right. He pointed and went on wrapping up the immensely valuable plunder. Gladwin got up on a chair and reached for one of the least noteworthy of his collection. No, no, not that one, said the thief sharply, the one above. An old Dutch painting that had cost around ten thousand dollars. The young man took it down gingerly, biting his lips and cursing inwardly. That's it, he was rewarded. Bring it here. Gladwin managed to cross the room with an appearance of stolid indifference, and as he handed the picture to the collector, he said haltingly, I take it these pictures is worth a lot of money, sir. You're right, I take it, said the other with a laugh, beginning it once to slash out the canvas. Yes, sir, I mean you take it, said Gladwin viciously. The wrathful emphasis missed its mark. The collector was humming to himself and working with masterful deafness. Now that woman's head to the left, he commanded as soon as he had disposed of the Dutch masterpiece. And be quick about it, you move as if you were in a trance. Gladwin saw that he was to take down his only rubens, wherefore he deliberately reached for another painting, The Blue Boy. No, not that thing, exclaimed the collector. Why, what's the matter with this one, sir? snapped back, Gladwin. It's a fake, said the other contemptuously. I paid two old frauds five hundred pounds for that thing in London a couple of years ago. It's absolutely worthless from the standpoint of art. Gladwin looked at him in open-mouth amazement and slid from the chair to the floor. How had this astounding person come by the secret of The Blue Boy? There was a positive awe in Gladwin's gaze as he sized up the big man again from his shining patent leather shoes to his piercing eyes and broad intellectual forehead. He fairly jumped when the command was repeated to take down the rubens and hand it to him. As he handed it over, he stammered, I don't think much of this one, sir. You don't, said the other, in pitying disgust. Well, it's a rubens worth forty thousand dollars if it's worth a cent. Yes, don't tell me, Gladwin managed to articulate. Indicating the full-length portrait of the ancestral Gladwin, he added, Who is that old fellow over there, sir? Kindly don't refer to the subject of that portrait as fellow, the other caught him up. That is my great-grandfather, painted by Gilbert Charles Stewart more than a century ago. You monumental liar, was on Gladwin's lips. He managed to stifle the outburst and ask, Are you going to take all these pictures away with these tonight? Oh, no, not all of them, was the careless reply. Only the best ones. How unspeakably kind of him, thought the unregarded victim. If he is one of the others, he said with fine sarcasm, I could pack him up after you're gone and send them to you. That might be a good idea, officer. I'll think it over, the pilferer thanked him. Then he went on with his task of taking the back out of the mounting of the Rubens, showing that he did not trust his knife with such an ancient and priceless canvas. Gladwin was thinking up another ironic opening when the doorbell rang. He jumped and cried, If that's the lady, sir, I'll go and let her in. No, you wait here, the other objected. She might be frightened at the sight of a policeman. You stay here. I'll let her in myself. And he strode swiftly out into the hallway. End of Chapter 28 Recording by Roger Maline Chapter 29 Of Officer 666 This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Roger Maline Officer 666 By Barton W. Curry and Augustine McHugh Chapter 29 In which the hero is kept on the hop Travers Gladwin watched the big handsome mispresentiment of himself disappear into the hallway with every nerve at full strain. As he heard the door open, then a delighted feminine cry, and the unmistakable subtle sound of an embrace, he ground his fingernails into his palms and bit his lips. Every fiber of him burned with jealous hatred of this imposter. If there had been only more of the brute left in the Gladwin strain, undoubtedly there would have been a sensational clash between the two men for the benefit of the beautiful young girl who Gladwin strove to acknowledge was the helpless pawn of circumstances. But the refinements of blood robbed the physical man of his savage resources and imposed a serious hamper upon his primordial impulses. Helen came into the room with the thief's arm about her waist, while Gladwin stood dumbly at attention, his features hardened and inscrutable. At sight of his uniform, and failing to recognize him in his disguise, the girl turned pale and uttered a frightened exclamation. Don't be alarmed, dear, the man at her side reassured her, smiling down upon her. He looked up with a laughing expression of inquiry. Murphy, sir, responded Gladwin, through tightly compressed lips. Yes, the pretender nodded quickly. Murphy, officer Murphy, my dear, looks after my house when I'm away. He is one of the city's best little watchmen, and he is going to see that everything is made safe and secure after we have gone. Helen breathed an exclamation of relief, but the fright in her eyes lingered, as the unconscious feeling struck in that the attitude of the policeman seemed more than a trifle strained. She carried a little grip in one hand, which the bogus Gladwin took from her, and handed to the real Gladwin, nodding significantly for him to leave the room. Turning to Helen, he said, But why did you bring the bag, dear? My man told me he found your trunk at the Grand Central Station. Yes, Helen answered, but Auntie insisted that I go to the opera, so I had to pack my travelling dress. I slipped out of the opera during the Entree Act, and went home to change my gown. I was so frightened, and in such a dreadful state of mind, that I had to go to the opera. I was so frightened, and in such a dreadful state of nerves, that I couldn't. A shudder ran through her, and she seemed on the point of breaking down, when the man with whom she had chosen to elope, drew her to him, and said with what had every expression of genuine tenderness, There, there, dear, calm yourself. Why, you're trembling like a leaf. There is nothing to be frightened about now. She yielded to his embrace, and he bent down his head to kiss her on the lips. Whatever he projected in the nature of an enduring osculation was spoiled, as Gladwin dropped the bag to the floor with a crash. The man looked up angrily, and the girl gave a frightened cry. What's the matter with you, officer? The thief shot at him. Excuse me, sir, said Gladwin, with mock humility, turning away his head to hide his emotions. As the girl shrank from his arms, the thief switched his attention from Officer 666, and led her to a chair, resuming his gentle tones. He pressed her to sit down, saying, I am just packing up some pictures. I shan't keep you waiting long. Now, that's good. You're getting calmer. You're all right now, aren't you? Yes, Travers dear, she responded with an effort looking into his face. I shan't break down, she went on, with a nervous laugh. I'm stronger than I look. I've made my mind up to it. The trouble is that my heart won't behave. It's beating terribly. Just feel it. He was about to place his hand on her heart when Gladwin was seized with the paroxysm of coughing. The thief straightened up and turned scowlingly upon the young man. Say, what's the matter with you, McCarthy? Murphy, sir, Gladwin retorted. Me, throat tickled me. Well, return to the other, sharply. If you would move around, as I told you, your throat wouldn't tickle you. Get something to pack these paintings in. There isn't anything in this room. Go upstairs and get a trunk. I don't know where there is none, sir, Gladwin objected. Well, look around for one. A small, empty trunk, and be quick about it. He spoke with crackling emphasis. Stung to the quick by the overbearing insolence of this command, it required a prodigious effort for the young man to control his voice, he said with difficulty. I was thinking, sir, suppose the trunk is full. The thief squared his broad shoulders and walked threateningly toward Gladwin. He stopped directly in front of the young man and said through his teeth, slowly and deliberately and without raising his voice. If the trunks are full, now listen carefully, because I want you to understand this. If the trunks are full, then empty one. Do you get my meaning? Take the fullness out of it, and after you have done that, and there is nothing more left in it, then bring it down here. Now do you think you get my idea clearly? Yes, sir, said Gladwin, dully, feeling that there was no way out of the situation for the moment saved to obey. Strive as he might, he could not wholly shake off the influence of this splendid big animal's dominating willpower. And if it affected him that way, he didn't wonder at the spell the man had cast upon the impressionable and sentimental Helen. He left the room with a sudden spurt and swiftly mounted the stairs, the chief object of his haste being to prevent an extended interview in his absence and a resumption of tender dialogue. He had scarcely gone when the spurious Gladwin turned again to the girl with his most engaging smile and softest tones. You see, dear, with the sweeping gesture that included his work of spoilation, I am taking your advice, packing only the most valuable ones. I am afraid, Travers, said Helen, rising from her chair and coming toward him with all her impulsive love and confidence restored, that I am giving you a lot of trouble. Trouble, he cried, with the gushing effusiveness of a matinee idol. You're bringing a great joy into my life. He took her hand and caressed it, adding with the true lover's frown of perplexity. But are you going to be happy, dear? That's what you must think of now, before it is too late. It was a magnificent bluff and carried with deadly aim. The girl stopped him passionately. We must not stop to talk about that now. There isn't time. We must hurry, dear, and get away before Auntie finds out and comes after me. Do you think she'll come here? He asked slowly, while his forehead wrinkled. I'm afraid Sadie will tell her. Sadie, your cousin? Huh! He made no effort to conceal that he was thinking rapidly. Perhaps you'd rather postpone it after all, Travers? She said quickly, while the color rushed to her cheeks and her lips trembled. If you only thought it best, I'd like to tell Auntie what I'm going to do. No, he retorted. We can't do that. We've gone over all this before. It must be this way, or not at all. Which is it to be? I've given you my word, you know, she said under her breath. That's my brave little girl, he cried with the burst of feeling, reaching out his arm to embrace her. Crash, bang, biff, slam, bam! They're burst into the room, Officer 666, and tangled in the lid and straps of an empty trunk. It was a steamer trunk, and not very heavy, but Travers Gladwin was far from adept in baggage smashing. He had wasted so much time in hunting for the trunk that he had sought to make up for the delay by executing what resembled an aeroplane descent. At the final twist of the staircase, the trunk had mastered him and charged with him into the room. As he lay sprawled on the floor with the foolish grin in his face, the discompeted lover turned on him with the voice of fury. Officer, what that deuces the matter with you? The intense savagery of his tone made the girl shrink away from him and turned pale. He managed to cover his break so quickly with a forced laugh and an effort to assist Gladwin to his feet that her fear was only momentary. In the last stage of his downward flight, Gladwin glimpsed that he had dropped in barely in time to spoil another touching scene. With a grin of sheer delight, he asked, Where'll I put the trunk, sir? Put it there. The self-styled Gladwin pointed to the right of the chest and set to work to gather up his few hundred thousand dollars' worth of pelf. He was about to place the flat packages in the trunk when he turned to Helen and asked, Do you see any others that you'd like me to take, dear? Oh, you know best, she replied. Only I should think that you would take some of the miniatures. The miniatures, he asked, raising his eyebrows. Yes, said the girl. They are the loveliest I have ever seen, and they'll hardly take up any room at all. If we are going to be away such a long time, I think it would be safer to take them. It was palpable to Travers Gladwin that the big chap had received a psychic jolt, for his hand trembled a little as he laid down the canvases on top of the chest and addressed the girl. I didn't know you'd seen the miniatures. Oh, yes, when I was here this afternoon. He took this between the eyes without flinching. His voice was marvelously steady, as he said. I didn't know you were here this afternoon. You didn't, she asked in a puzzled tone. How funny! You'd just gone out when I called, but two of your friends were here, and one of them showed me the miniatures, and china, and plate, and lots of things. Why, I left a message for you about the opera. Didn't they tell you? The girl stood with her back to Gladwin and the man she was talking to. The girl stood with her back to Gladwin and the man she addressed slowly turned his head and glanced over her head with a keen flashing look of inquiry. Gladwin lifted his chin a little and met the look without change of expression. Didn't they tell you, Travers? The girl repeated. Yes, yes, they told me, he said hastily, still maintaining his fixed gaze upon Gladwin. There was barely an instant's pause before he spoke. Officer, kindly go up to my room and see if you can find a bag and pack enough things to last a week or two. Yes, sir, Gladwin flung out of the room. He started noisily up the stairs until he saw that the thief had turned his back to him. Where at, he vaulted the banister and dropped lightly upon a die-van in a recessed niche that could not be seen from the room he left. The moment Gladwin vanished, the thief turned to Helen and asked sharply, What time did you see my friends here? A little after five, replied the girl, recoiling slightly with the look of dismay, for there was a new raw edge to the sharpness of his tone. Did you tell them about the allotment, he said less harshly, but with a scarcely veiled eagerness? Why, they knew all about it, Helen hastened to reply, searching his face apprehensively. Knew about it, he mused, fairly grinding his brows together under the pressure of his agitated thoughts. What did you tell them? He queried steadily, measuring her fresh young beauty, and vowing to himself, that whatever struggle impended, he was going through with it to the limit of his resources. That we were to meet here, she answered with increasing fear. That we were to meet here, he repeated. Yes, at half-past ten. Oh, was it something I shouldn't have told them? She cried, coming toward him. Once more Officer 666 snapped the tension. He had wriggled around the staircase, and found the suitcase Batiato had packed and left for him. Hating to play the role of an eavesdropper any longer than necessary, he made a flying start and burst into the room. CHAPTER XXXX GLADWIN comes out of his shell. What the— The spurious aristocrat and art collector suppressed his torrid exclamation. The impulse moved him to seize the uniformed butter 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, sir," drawled Gladwin. "'I told you to pack it,' said the other, sharply. "'All packed, sir. Hunting clothes, shirts, 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, sir?' 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 curtain 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 pass through the portiers 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 portiers 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.' "'Why? What's the matter?' she stammered, wincing at the crushing 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 to the back stairs 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 Batiato stuck in his head, fearing that some harm had come to his master, the little chap 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, Batiato noticed the rippling down portiers 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, "'What's this? Oh, hell! Damn!' Helen was in too good training by this time to swoon, though she wanted to. She started to think about it. She swooned, though she wanted to. She started back in alarm and exclaimed, "'Oh, how you startled me!' Batiato circled round her like an enraged rat. "'You know fool me! I know you teeth! You steal picture! I get police! Much police! Hold big lot police! Quick!' He headed for the door. Helen pursued him, crying, "'See here! Wait a minute! You don't understand! Mr. Gladwin!' The jap was gone and the hall door slammed after him before she had reached the folding doors. In another instant, Travers Gladwin, who had been making a vain hunt for a revolver in the upper part of the house, came flying down the stairs and assailed the frightened girl with another overwhelming shock. Seeing she was alone, he threw himself into the breach headlong, "'Miss Helen! Just a moment! I've been waiting for a chance to speak to you. You must get away from here at once. Do you understand? At once! Don't waste time talking. Go quick while you have a chance. You mustn't be mixed up in what's coming!' The girl felt that her heart would burst with its palpitations of fear, but she was incapable of flight. Her limbs seemed like leaden weights. Some force, working without the zone of her mental control, made her stammer, "'Who are you?' "'Listen,' the young man raced on, "'and you must believe what I say. This man you came here to meet and to loathe with is not Travers Gladwin at all.' She expressed her horrified disbelief in a frozen stare. "'It's true,' he pursued passionately. "'He's an imposter. The real Travers Gladwin you met here this afternoon. He was I. That is, I was he. I mean, I am Travers Gladwin. Only I've got this uniform on now. It is only on your account that I have not caused his arrest and a sensation. I can't have you mixed up in a nasty scandal. I want to save you. Don't you see I do? But I can't wait much longer. I don't believe what you are saying. I can't believe it. Oh, it's too horrible!' sobbed Helen, clinging to a fragment of her shattered idol, as a drowning man clings to a straw. Gladwin was on the point of resuming his appeal when he sensed a heavy tread. He had divined that the picture-thief had left the room to reconnoitre emergency exits, or to learn whether or not the house was surrounded. He had hoped that he might run into Michael Phelan, but did not stop to puzzle out why this had not happened. Backing to the door, he whispered, "'He's coming. Question him. That's all I ask. I'll be waiting to see that you get out in safety. Trust me.' He wriggled backward and disappeared through the folding doors. End of Chapter 30 Recording by Roger Maline Chapter 31 of Officer 666 This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Roger Maline. Officer 666 by Barton W. Curry and Augustine McHugh Chapter 31 A Visit to the Exiled Phelan But where, oh, where was the exiled Phelan when the bogus Gladwin went on his back-stairs investigation? Puzzled as he was by the fast-moving events of the night, stripped of the uniform of his authority, still his police instincts should have warned him of this new character in his dream. Michael Phelan, however, was busy. Busy in a way one little would suppose. As the gentlemanly outlaw entered the kitchen, Phelan was standing on the tubs of the adjoining laundry. His face almost glued to the window-pane, and his eyes uplifted to the fourth-story rear window of a house diagonally opposite, through which he could observe a pantomime that thrilled him. It was late, well past bedtime, even for the aristocratic precincts of New York. Yet there was going on behind that brilliantly lighted window a one-man drama strangely and grotesquely wide awake. A first casual glance had conveyed the impression to Phelan that a tragedy was being enacted before his eyes, that murder was being done with fiendish brutality, and he, Phelan, powerless to intervene. The seeming murderer was a man of amazing obesity, a red-faced man with a bull-neck and enormous shoulders, clad in pink-striped pajamas and a tassled nightcap of flaming red. Back and forth the rotund giant swayed with something in his arms, something which he crushed in his fists and brutally shook, something which he held off at arm's length and hammered with ruthless blows. The murderen baste! ejaculated Phelan as he switched off the one light he had been reading by and darted into the next room to get a better view from the summit of the kitchen tubs. Suddenly the mountain of flesh and the debile victim that he was ruthlessly manhandling disappeared from view. For several long, thundering seconds the petrified Phelan could see nothing save a dancing crimson tassel, the tassel attached to the nightcap. Surely a mighty struggle was going on, on the floor. Phelan did not hear the light step upon the kitchen stair or the stealthy tread of the big man in evening-dress as he pussy-footed his way to the kitchen door leading out into the back yard and found that it was easily opened. Every sentient nerve in Michael Phelan's being was concentrated in his eyes at that moment and it is highly doubtful if he would have heard a fife and drum-core and full blare enter the kitchen. He heard nothing and saw nothing below that upward focal angle. The man Phelan should have heard flash the light in his cane only at infrequent intervals. He did not aim its bright revealing beam into the half-open door of the adjoining laundry, and he was as unconscious of the proximity of Phelan as that unfrocked or de-uniformed officer was of the invader. He returned to Miss Helen Burton in complete ignorance of the fact that the lower regions of the dwelling were otherwise than empty. But the second he re-entered the room he saw the girl was strangely agitated and that she feared to look at him. Laying down his cane he crossed the room to her side and said in his softest tones, Well, you haven't got on very fast in your packing, have you, dear? Helen was leaning against the back of a chair, feeling she was surely going to topple over in a wound. Summoning all her reserve of nerve power she strove to reply naturally, No, I didn't quite understand how to pack. He was at her side now and seized both her hands. Why, Helen, what's the matter? Your hands are cold as ice. He spoke warmly and tenderly while at the same time his eyes were everywhere about the room and he was listening with the wary alertness of a rodent. There was more than a little of the rat in the sole enclosed in the splendid envelope. It's nothing, only I'm faint, she said tremulously. That policeman has been talking to you, hasn't he? he said quietly. Yes, he has, she blurted with a catch in her throat. Did he tell you who he was? He measured out each word and conveyed the sense. Did he tell you who he pretended to be? Yes, the girl responded scarcely above a whisper. He took her by the shoulders and turned her squarely toward him, looking down into her face with frowning eyes. Now, Helen, I want you to tell me the truth. The truth, you understand? I shall know it even if you don't. Who did he say he was? A feeling of repugnance took possession of the girl and she shook herself free and stood back. Her body had warmed into life again and she looked steadily into his eyes as she answered, Travers Gladwin, he needed all his great bulk of flesh and steel-fibred nerve to fend off this shock. Not the remotest fancy had crossed his mind that Travers Gladwin might be in New York. It was with a palpably forced laugh that he ejaculated, Travers Gladwin. Oh, he did, huh? The girl had read more than he imagined the sudden contraction of his features and dilation of his eyes had revealed. I want you to tell me the truth. You must, she said passionately. Who are you? A man who loves you, he let go impulsively. The desire to possess her had sprung uppermost in his mind again. But are you the man you pretended to be? Are you Travers Gladwin? She insisted, compelled against her convictions to grope for a forlorn hope. And if I were not, he cried, with all the dramatic intensity he could bring to voice. If, instead of being the son of a millionaire, a pampered mollycoddle who never earned a dollar in his life, suppose I were a man who had to fight every inch of the way? He stopped. His alert ear had caught a sound in the hallway. He sped noiselessly to the folding door and forced one back, revealing Officer Murphy. Come in, he said, threateningly, and Gladwin came in a little way. Where's that bag? said the thief with a glare and a suggestive movement of his hands. What bag, sir? said Gladwin, feeling that for the moment discretion was the better part of Valor. The one you brought in here. You told me to unpack it, sir. It's upstairs, sir. Go and get it. Go, now, and don't waste time. Gladwin went, determined this time that he must arm himself with some weapon, even if it were one of the rusted old bowie knives of his grandfather that ornamented the wall of his den. He estimated accurately that he would prove a poor, weak read in the hands of that Hercules in evening dress, and while the thought of a knife sickened him, he was impelled to seek one. As he mounted the stairs, the thief strode to the table near the window and gathered up Helen's opera-cloak and handed it to her. Now go quickly, he urged. My car is just across the street. There is no time to argue your absurd suspicions. No, I shan't go, retorted Helen, accepting the cloak and backing away. So you believe that, man? he asked reproachfully. I am afraid I do, she said firmly. Then I'll show you mighty quick you're wrong, he cried as a crowning bluff. He's probably some spy sent by your aunt. I'll get my man in here and we'll have him arrested after you and I have gone. Wait here, I shan't be a moment. As the door slammed after him, Helen ran to the window and then back to the door. She was now terribly alarmed on another score. She feared to go out and she feared to remain in the house. She feared physically, feared violence. Travers Gladwin had found the buoy-knife and slipped it into his trousers pocket. Then he had gone down the stairs on the run. As he entered the room and saw that the man had gone, he said, Is he running away and without his pictures or his hat and coat? What's his game, I wonder? He's coming back. He says my aunt sent you here, said Helen, but less afraid at his return to the room. Never mind what he says, Gladwin returned, gesturing excitedly. You must go home now. Tomorrow you can learn the truth. But if I go out, he'll be sure to see me, she protested. Gladwin looked about him and thought a moment. Do you see that little alcove back of the stairs? He said quickly, pointing. Helen crossed the room and nodded. Well, hide in there, he commanded. The curtains will conceal you. If he and his man come back, I'll get them in this room. Then I'll press this button, see? He indicated a button and added, That rings a buzzer. You can hear it from the alcove, and then slip out the front door. The girl paused but an instant, then fled to the place of shelter. End of CHAPTER XXXI CHAPTER XXXII CHAPTER XXXII CHAPTER XXXII CHAPTER XXXII CHAPTER XXXII There was no passion in the stodgy movements of the great patty arms. Even so far away as he was, Phalan could see that the man puffed and blew, and that his vigor was slowly waning. Then suddenly the huge man stooped and held up in plain view a dangling, wrestling dummy. The lone watcher swallowed a savage oath. Sure, to his exercising and not murder he was doing, Phalan hissed through his teeth. His anger was white-hot. Again he had been the victim of delusion, and had wasted heroic emotions on a stuffed dummy that served merely as an inanimate instrument in a course of anti-fat calisthenics. Every nerve in Phalan's body was fairly abrisal as he made his way upstairs and burst into the great drawing-room and picture-gallery. For the love of hyven, he cried, give me me uniform, and let me out of here. Here is your uniform. I've had enough of it," replied Gladwin, throwing him the coat and cap, and get into it quick. There's work for you right in this house. There is not, nor play neither, snapped Phalan. I've got to go out and chase up a drunk or throw a faint or get run over or something desperate to square myself with the captain. I'm an hour overdue at the station. You'll square yourself with the captain all right if you just do what I tell you, said Gladwin eagerly, helping him on with his coat and pushing him toward the window recess. You go right in there behind those curtains and wait till I call you. Phalan took one look at the young man's face and muttered as he obeyed. This must be a hell of a joke. And just then the thief breezed in again, jerking back on his heels as he caught sight of Gladwin, Sans' uniform, Sans' mustache, and Sans' eyebrows. But a glance at that young man meant volumes, and there was no limit to his spontaneous resources. He summoned a laugh and jerked out, Oh, so you've resigned from the force? Yes, retorted Gladwin, and let me tell you that this little excursion of yours has gone far enough. I'll give you one chance. Get away from here as quickly as you can. The big fellow curled one corner of his lip in a contemptuous smile, then glanced about him quickly and asked, Where's the young lady? Never mind the young lady, Gladwin flung back at him. It was only on her account that I let you go as far as this. Now get out and keep away from that young lady and drop my name. The sneering smile returned, and balancing himself easily as he looked down on Gladwin, he said, Easy, son, easy! I don't like to have little boys talk to me like that. And turning to the doorway behind him, he beckoned. The obedient Watkins sidled in and stopped with head averted from Gladwin, who started with surprise at seeing him. Stepping forward and making sure there could be no mistake, Gladwin turned to the thief and exclaimed, Oh, now I understand how you knew all about my house. This is what I get for not sending this man to jail where he belonged. Don't bother with him, Watkins, snarled the big fellow, as he noted his companion's complexion run through three shades of yellow. There's no time to bother with him, he went on, and, reaching out, he caught Travers Gladwin by the shoulder and whirled him halfway across the room. The young man spun half a dozen times as he reeled across the carpet, and he had to use both hands to stop himself against a big onyx table. As he pulled himself up standing, he saw that Watkins had lifted the trunk of the young man's hand, and that he had to use both hands to stop Watkins had lifted the trunk on his shoulders and was headed for the hallway. Failing, he gasped out, Here, quick! Officer 666 came out with the snort and rush of a bull. Stop that man, cried the thief, pointing to Watkins. He's trying to get out of here with a trunk full of pictures. The man's hair-trigger mind had thought this out before Failing was halfway around the table. One lightning glance at the thickness of the patrolman's neck and the general contour of his Rubicon countenance had translated to him the sort of man he had to deal with. Here! Here! Put down that trunk! spluttered Failing, brandishing his club at Watkins. Watkins dropped the trunk and had a signal from his companion was gone. Swiftly and silently as he vanished he could not have been halfway to the door before the thief urged Failing. Quick! Go after that man! He's a thief! Stop, Failing! cried Gladwin, who had begun to see through the pantomime. They're both thieves! Failing tried to run four ways at once. 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 blaze is kind of a joke is this! Blurted Failing, 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 Failing. Arrest this man, Failing! Do you mean it? asked the astonished Failing, 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 Failing might be concealed there. Failing headed him off, whereupon the thief said severely, in a tone that was far more convincing than Gladwin's most passionate sincerity, Now be careful, Officer, or you'll get yourself into a lot of trouble. Don't let him bluff you, Failing, cautioned Gladwin. You bet you're a life I won't! Failing answered, though he was already bluffed. I'll stick close to you, 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's 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? Failing's jaw dropped wide open. He's lying to you, said 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 Failing was falling under the spell of the big man's superb bluff, and at the same time remembering Helen and pressing the button 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 Failing gave him the benefit of his Popeyes 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 impoturbability. You let one go out, Failing, and there were two others beside this one. The buttons on Failing's coat were fairly undulating with the emotions that stirred within him. In his seething gray matter there stirred the remembrance that Batillado 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 Japanese called me off me beat, he said there was women crooks here too. He's lying to you, Failing, 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 passed his lips when a woman's voice raised in hysterical protest was audible in the hallway. End of Chapter 32, Recording by Roger Moline