Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1907-02-05

the lid open with his steel screw-driver.
One look was enough. 1t held the Blue
Pear.
He stopped and carefully brushed up the
steel cuttings under his shoeless feet. AS
carefully he closed the inner drawers of the
safe. His hand was on the nickel lock-
knob once more to swing the ponderous
outer doors shut. when a sound fell on his
ears. a sound that made his very blood
chill and Jingle and chill again through all
his tense body.
1t was Franks voice, outside the same
building in which he stood. not a hundred
feet away from him, her voice shrilly
screaming for help.
His first mad impulse was to rush out to
her, blindly. second precautionary flash
OF thought kept him rooted to the spot,
where he stood listening. He could hear
confused, sharp voices, and the scuff1ing of
feet. He heard the quick scream again:
then cultural, angry protests. Some sub
liminal prompting told Durkn that that
scream was not one of terror, but of warn
ing.
Swapping out his incandescent lamp. he
stole cautiously forward through the row
of partitioned heavily-carpeted little offices,
and, without showing himself. peered to-
ward the shop-front. AS he did so. Sec
ond involuntary thrill Of apprehension sped
up and down his backbone. The street door
itself was open. Already half way in
through that door was a dark stoutly
built man. He stood struggling in the arms
of determined young woman. That Wom-
an. Durkin could see was Frances Gambler.
And all the while that she was clinging to
him and holding him she was crying Justify
for help.
The next moment Durkin made out the
man. 1t was Ottenheimer, himself For
some unknown reason. he hastily surmised,
the diamond merchant had intended to drop
into his own office. But why, he still asked
was Frank taking such risks?
Durkin did not try to work the thing out
in its minute details. Like a FASH he
darted back to the open safe. He swung
the big doors to, locked them, caught up
his drill and the loose strands of wire, and
then backed quickly out through the steel
door, securing 1t with deft twist or two
of piece Of his number twelve. The outer
cellar door he as quickly closed after him.
Then he flew upstairs. two steps at a
time, rebolted the photographers hall door,
replaced the transom as he swung up
through it, and as hurriedly reftted the
loose iron bar in the roof-fencing
Three minutes later, a well-dressed gentle
man. wearing a silk hat and carrying a
large leather suit case, stopped. with not
unnatural curiosity, on his way up 9Th ave-
little crowd that clustered about two police
men and woman in the doorway of Isaac
Ottenheimer & Co.
He drew up casually enough. and listened
while q short, stout, and very indignant
man spluttered and gesticulated and angrly
demanded how any one should dare to stop
him from going into his own store. He
was the owner of the place-there was his
own Waterman to identify him-and some
body would be broke for this tomfoolery,
he declared, with shake of the fist toward
the silent sergeant beside him.
The young woman, who CHANGED to be
yelled. explained In her well-modulated
rich contralto voice that the hour had
seemed so unusual, the store had looked so
dark inside, even the burglar-alarm, she
stubborniy insisted, had rung so loudly,
that. naturally it had made her suspicious
She was sorry If it was mistake. But now
the officers were there; they could attend
to tiff some one would kindly call car
rage for her.
The sergeant between her and Often
heimer agreed with her, and stepping out
and stopping empty motor-cab on its
way up the avenue. turned back to the still
enraged owner of the store and solicitously
advised him to go home and cool down.
You hold that woman!' demanded OF
tenheimer. husky with rage. you hold
that woman, until I examine these prem
isesp'
The young woman, obviously. and also
quite naturally, objected to being held
There was moment of puzzled silence, and
then murmur Of disapproval from the
crowd. for about the carefully gloved girl
in the black street-gown and plumed hat