into the room, but his precipitate 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 Meissonier, 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 gilt
mounting.

"Ah, Officer, you are back," he said easily, as Gladwin staggered
against a table and gripped it for support. The methodical despoiler
did not so much as turn his head as he placed the Meissonier 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 a round $10,000.

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, sorr."

"You're right, I take it," said the other with a laugh, beginning at
once to slash out the canvas.

"Yes, sorr, I mean, _you take it_!" said Gladwin viciously. The
wrathful emphasis missed its mark. The "collector" was humming to
himself and working with masterful deftness.

"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, sorr," snapped back Gladwin.

"It's a fake," said the other, contemptuously. "I pai