infernal shackles?" he asked, while Sadie
looked wonderingly after him.

"I've got a key to nothin'," growled Phelan. "Don't talk to me--I'd
like to kill some of yez."

Barnes retreated, backing into Mrs. Burton, who turned and seized
him.

"Do you know where my niece is?" she demanded.

"Oh, yes, she's here, only you're breaking my arm."

"Where is she and where is that fiend Gladwin?"

"Oh, _the fiend Gladwin_ just went upstairs to her. She's upstairs
asleep."

"Asleep!"

"Oh, I don't know--go up and find her, that is--I beg your pardon--I'll
lead the way--come, Miss Sadie."

The handcuffed youth led the procession up the stairs, leaving Officer
666 as solitary sentinel in the great drawing room and picture
gallery.

"Well, I guess I'm dished fer fair," groaned Phelan as he mournfully
surveyed the deserted room and allowed his eyes to rest on the
portrait of a woman who looked out at him from mischievous blue eyes.

"An' all fer a pair o' them eyes," he added, wistfully. "'Tis tough."

He might have gone on at some length with this doleful soliloquy had
not a hand suddenly closed over his mouth with the grip of a steel
trap.

Alf Wilson had come out of the chest as noiselessly as he had
originally entered it and good fortune favored him to the extent of
placing Phelan with his back to him while his troubled mind was
steeped in a mixture of love and despair.

As the thief pounced upon the ill-fated Officer 666 he uttered, "Pst!
Pst! Watkins!"

That sinuous individual writhed out of the fireplace and came to his
assistance.

"Get his elbows and put your knee in his back," instructed the thief,
"while I reach for my ether-gun. Thank God! Here it is in my pocket."

Phelan struggled in a fruitless effort to tear himself free, but
Wilson's grip was the grip of unyielding withes of steel and the slim
and wiry Watkins was just as muscular for his weight.

It was the task of a moment for the picture expert to bring round the
little silver device he called his ether-gun. Phelan was gasping for
breath through his nostrils, and Wilson had only to press the bulb
once or twice before the policeman's muscles relaxed and he fell
limply into Watkins's arms.

"That'll hold him for ten minutes at least," breathed Wilson. "That's
right, Watkins, prop him up while I get his belt and coat off--then
into the chest."

Phelan was completely insensible, but his weight and the squareness of
his bulk made it a stren