we are wasting time and keeping the ladies up till an
unconscionable hour. If you will get your little Jap down here without
making a noise about it, I can use him and bid you good-night."

Gladwin went warily out into the hallway, reconnoitered the front door
and vestibule, then went to the stairway and uttered a short, sharp
whistle. Bateato came down as if on winged feet and halted as if
turned to stone between the big man in the uniform of Officer 666 and
his master.

"Come here," said Wilson, and plucked the Jap by the arm.

Bateato trembled with apprehension.

"Would you like to catch the thief?" the picture expert asked him.

"Ees, sair."

Bateato looked at his master, who nodded reassuringly.

"Well, the thief is in your master's room," said Wilson, impressively.
"Go up there and bang on the door--take that poker out of the
fireplace and make all the noise you can. Do you understand me?"

"Ees, sair," and Bateato's long lost grin returned. "I make bang,
bang."

"Yes, and yell, 'Police--quick, quick, quick--catch thief.'"

"Ees, sair, big much pleece come and tief run. Bateato run too and
pleece find all empty."

"Good--hurry!" and Wilson gave the Jap an unnecessary push toward the
fireplace, for the little Oriental fairly flew on his errand.

A moment later there burst upon the stillness of the mansion a
frightful uproar. The noise was distinctly audible in the street, as
Wilson had slipped to the door and opened it, then concealed himself
behind a curtain.

It was only a matter of seconds before Captain Stone, Kearney and the
entire outside patrol rushed in and piled up the stairs.

Travers Gladwin had not stirred from where he stood in the drawing-room
when Bateato got his instructions. He was intensely excited and feared
that some slip might spoil this inspired plan.

"Good-by," came a muffled hail from the hallway. Then there was
silence both within and without.

"Gad, I hope he makes it!" cried the young man and rushed to the
window. He had hardly reached there when the stillness was punctured
by a crash of shifting gears and the racket of a sixty horsepower
engine thrown into sudden, furious action.

"He's gone!" Gladwin breathed, as he saw a touring car hurl itself
athwart his vision. He recognized his former servant, Watkins, at the
wheel.

CHAPTER XLII.

MICHAEL PHELAN'S PREDICAMENT.

It was as if a great burden had been removed from his shoulders.
Leaving the window a