window--on guard as it
were."

"On guard, is it?" snorted Phelan. "On guard an' snorin' like a bazoo.
'Tis a fine night watchman ye'd make. But, say, hain't ye seen nothin'
o' 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."

"An' 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 mesilf 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."

"Howly Moses! If I ever get out of this scrape I pity the mon that
offers me money fer the lind o' me uniform agin. 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 some one at the door," spoke up Barnes. "You'd better
go and see who it is, Officer."

"Me!" gurgled Phelan. "Me! an' walk into the arms o' Sergeant
McGinnis. Let 'em stay out, whoever it is, or yez go yersilf."

"All right," said Barnes, "and in case it should be your friend
McGinnis you 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: "How the divvil did I iver let mesilf in fer this thing--I
dunno! That's what love does to yez--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.

"Howly murther! What's that?" he breathed, backing away from the
door.

"Help! Murder! Police!" was borne 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 yez're talkin' about," protested Phelan, backing
toward