"Knew about it?" he mused, fairly grinding his brows together under the pressure of his agitated thoughts.
"What did you tell them?" he queried steadily, measuring her fresh, young beauty and vowing to himself that whatever struggle impended he was going through with it to the limit of his resources.
"That we were to meet here," she answered with increasing fear.
"That we were to meet _here_?" he repeated.
"Yes, at half-past ten--oh, was it something I shouldn't have told them?" she cried, coming toward him.
Once more Officer 666 snapped the tension. He had wriggled around the staircase and found the suitcase Bateato had packed and left for him. Hating to play the rôle of an eavesdropper any longer than necessary he made a flying start and burst into the room.
The spurious aristocrat and art collector suppressed his torrid exclamation. The impulse moved him to seize the uniformed butter-in and pitch him through the nearest window. He was big and powerful enough to do it, too.
In the furious glance he got, Travers Gladwin read a warning that in an earlier stage of his career would have made him feel mighty uncomfortable. Now he liked the smell of danger and met the message of wrath without a flicker.
"What's that you've got there?" the thief, having mastered himself, asked, pointing to the grip.
"'Tis the bag you asked for, sorr," drawled Gladwin.
"I told you to pack it," said the other, sharply.
"All packed, sorr. Hunting clothes, shirts, ties, socks"----
He looked up with a boyish grin and the big chap was stumped for a moment. The thief said slowly:
"Now take it up to my room and unpack it." It was his turn to grin.
"What, sorr?" asked the dismayed Gladwin.
"I shan't want these things after all," came the velvety rejoinder. "Unpack it carefully and bring it back here. And kindly be more careful of the stairs when you come down--one step at a time, _please_! Now, what are you waiting for?"
Gladwin withdrew reluctantly, stealing a glance at Helen as he sidled through the curtained doorway. Her eyes never left the face of the man she thought she loved, but whose character was being swiftly revealed to her in a new light.
That resourceful individual waited only for the blue uniform to pass through the portières, when he sprang forward and reached out on both sides for the heavy mahogany folding doors. He brought them together swiftly and softly, then ripped down the portières from the pole, flinging one to the left of the door and the other across the chest.