The Bachelor Beauty had come home, Mag, and nabbed the poor Princess,
instead of her catching him napping.
He wasn't a beauty either--a big, stout fellow with a black mustache.
His hand on my shoulder held me tight, but the look in his eyes behind
his glasses held me tighter. I threw out my arms over the desk and hid
my face.
Caught! Nancy Olden, with her hands dripping, and not a lie in her
smart mouth!
He picked up the bills I had dropped, counted them and put them in his
pocket. Then he unhooked a telephone and lifted the stand from his
desk.
"Hello! Spring 3100--please. Hello! Chief's office? This is
Obermuller, Standard Theater. I want an officer to take charge of a
thief I've caught in my apartments here at the Bronsonia. Yes, right
on the corner. Hold him till you come? Well--rather!"
He put down the 'phone. I pulled the pearl studs out of my pocket.
"You might as well take these, too," I said.
"So thoughtful of you, seeing that you'd be searched! But I'll take
'em, anyway. You intended them for--Him? You didn't get anything
else?"