he man caught in the act of cutting a priceless canvas from its frame
he managed to conceal by taking tight grip of every muscle in his
body.

His eyes revealed nothing. There was no rush of color to or from his
face. His first change of expression was to smile.

Dropping the arm that poised the knife, he let himself down easily
from tiptoe and turned squarely to Gladwin.

"Good evening, Officer," he said without a tremor, showing his teeth
in as engaging a smile as Travers Gladwin had ever looked upon.

"Evenin'!" said Gladwin, shortly, with an admirable affectation of
Phelan's brogue.

"Do you find something on the balcony that interests you?" said the
other slowly, still holding his smile and his amazingly confident
bearing.

"You climbed up there to enjoy the moonlight, perhaps?" he added, even
more softly, gaining reassurance from the wooden expression that
Gladwin had forced upon his features.

"No, not the moonlight," responded the uniformed similitude of Officer
666, "the other light. I seen 'em go on. This house has been closed
for months."

"Oh, yes, to be sure," the other shrugged. "You're most alert,
Officer--right on the job, as they say. I congratulate you."

"I've been watching this house ever since Mr. Gladwin went away," said
Gladwin slowly, unable to make up his mind whether to call Phelan or
to continue the intensely interesting dialogue.

His visitor decided the situation for him by coolly lighting a cigar,
taking a few deliberate puffs and turning it over in his fingers to
inspect it as if it were the only object worth attention in the room.

Gladwin read this elaborate by-play for what it was worth--an effort
to decide just how best to play his part--and was pleasantly thrilled
with the realization that he himself was so well disguised in the
uniform of Officer 666.

So he clung to his own role and forgot Michael Phelan.

"H'm," said the invader, reflectively. "That's very good of you,
Officer. Let me offer you this as a slight token of my appreciation."

His left hand slid into his trousers pocket and brought up a roll of
bills. His nonchalance was a perfect mask as he stripped off one of
the bills and held it out carelessly to Gladwin.

On his part, Gladwin's expression was superbly blank as he reached for
the bill, pocketed it and said with his purring brogue:

"Thank ye, sorr! And might I ask who ye are?"

"H'm, that's good," chuckled the other, now thoroughly master of
hi