the face of the thief.

"I know you," he attacked the smile again. It was a bullet-proof smile
and never wavered.

"Well, who is he?" interrupted the real Travers Gladwin, eagerly.

"He's the greatest picture _expert_ in--the world!"

"You flatter me," said the thief with a bow, and a side glance at
Helen Burton, who was gazing at him as if both fascinated and
repelled.

"You admit it then," said Kearney roughly, unable to disguise the
triumph he felt at this identification of a man he had never seen
before.

"I am not so egotistical," the other bowed, "but I will go along with
you with pleasure and see what you are able to prove."

"Are you sure about this, Kearney?" asked Captain Stone, still
doubting and hating to admit he had been led into an egregious
blunder.

"Certain," retorted the detective. "He's been fooling them on the
other side for several years, but they nearly got him in Scotland Yard
two months ago. I got a full report on him from his straight eyebrows
and gray eyes down to the cut of his vest, with picture and
measurement attached. His real name is Alf Wilson--there were a
hundred men on his trail, but he made a getaway."

"I don't suppose there's any use trying to deny all this now," said
Wilson, without the slightest change of tone, shoving his hands into
his trousers pockets and lifting his head in contemplation of the
pictures on the wall.

"Not the slightest," returned the detective, snatching a pair of
handcuffs from his coat pocket.

"Wait just a moment, officer," interrupted Travers Gladwin. "I'd like
to ask this man one question."

"Delighted," cried the picture expert, turning and showing all his
teeth in a mocking smile.

Travers Gladwin pointed to the portrait of "The Blue Boy."

"How did you know I bought that picture in London upon certain
misrepresentations?"

"I was the man behind the gun--think it over."

He swung round to face the spurious Gainsborough. As he did so
something caught his eye and he moved toward the portrait. Gladwin
followed and inquired:

"But you not only knew it was a fake, but when I bought it and what I
paid for it."

"I knew about it," came the jaunty reply, "because _I_ painted it."

He moved another step nearer the painting as Gladwin gasped.

"Yes," he went on lightly, running his hand along the bottom of the
frame, "according to this gentleman," and he nodded over his shoulder
to Kearney, who had kept pace with him, backing to cov