undred to one against me, but I've beaten bigger
odds than that. You get up that chimney and I'll plant myself in the
chest. Quick, they're coming down again."

Watkins went up the chimney with the sinuous speed of a snake, and the
picture expert went into the chest with the agility of a wolf spider
ducking into its trap.

They were coming from all directions this time--Gladwin down the
stairs, about fourteen jumps ahead of Kearney, proclaiming that he
would telephone his lawyer and that he could put up $5,000,000 in
bonds for bail if need be. Phelan was coming through the front door
and Captain Stone through the hallway from the kitchen.

Glimpsing Gladwin, Phelan made a flying dive for him, yelling, "I got
him! I got him!"

They rolled on the floor in a heap.

"Have you got him, Phelan?" cried Captain Stone, rushing through the
room and into the hallway.

"I have, sorr," responded Phelan, proudly, getting to his feet and
pulling up his captive.

"What the devil's this," bawled Captain Stone, recognizing Gladwin.

"The thief, sorr," responded Phelan.

"The thief, hell! That's Mr. Gladwin!"

"W-w-w-what?" stuttered Phelan. Once again he entered into a condition
of complete mental paralysis.

"Has he hurt you, sir?" asked the captain, solicitously, noticing that
Gladwin's face was writhing.

"Nothing mortal," winced the young man.

"What's the matter with you, Phelan," the captain jumped on him. "Have
you been drunk to-day?"

"No, sorr," gurgled Phelan, "I"----

"Don't try to stop me, officer, I've come for my niece," crashed the
shrill voice of Mrs. Elvira Burton. She had seized a dramatic moment
for her re-entry.

CHAPTER XXXIX.

PILING ON PHELAN'S AGONY.

Mrs. Burton would have arrived much earlier into the midst of the
maelstrom of events at the Gladwin mansion had not Fate in the shape
of a tire-blowout intervened.

She had set out from Police Headquarters with Detective Kearney as a
passenger and she had urged her red-headed chauffeur to pay not the
slightest heed to speed laws or any other laws. He had obeyed with
such enthusiasm that the blowout had occurred at the intersection of
Fifth avenue and Forty-second street.

Late as the hour was there was a large crowd gathered to hear the
society leader of Omaha deliver a lecture in strange French and
caustic English.

Kearney had transshipped to a taxicab, which accounted for his earlier
arrival.

"Who's in charge here?" cried