At the kitchen window he turned and played a flashlight in one swift circle about the room, but I had been prepared for that move and was crouched back of the table which stood near the stove.
He paused on the window sill and then dropped out into the night, and I gave him a second or two before I followed. I did not wish to attract the attention of the guards, and I could not risk detection by the man who had taken that bag through the window, but I dared not delay. Those gems were going straight to old Icy-Eyes, himself. The quarry that had taken my bait was carrying it to the lair, and I must not lose that trail. With the theft of those gems I felt I had taken a long step toward insuring the safety of Helen Chadwick, and that was all I cared for. My own life was of no value, save and except as my existence offered some protection to her.
I went over the sill doubled up, cautious, and I dropped to the ground easily. I could see neither of the watchmen, but I could hear the footsteps of one of them as he approached through the darkness, walking with that measured, marching tread which showed that he suspected nothing.
He was approaching, and that indicated that he had been even farther away when the man with the bag had jumped from the window. There were two watchmen, one to each side of the house, and they were, of course, not adequate protection. In grounds such as those it would have taken two dozen men to form any sort of a patrol; but those watchmen could and did become damnable nuisances. To run into one of them now would be a fatal mistake. Now that the gems were out of the house, I must follow.
What had my man done? Was he crouched in the shadows waiting for the watchman to pass? In that event he would see me as I slipped through the grounds if I should sprint on before the watchman came nearer.
Or had the thief slipped right along through the shadows, taking advantage of the auspicious moment which had found the watchman at the other end of the yard? In that event I dared not wait longer.
In the game I was playing I could take almost any chances other than the chance of losing the man I was following. If I should overtake him I could capture him in my character of Russian Grand Duke who was following his priceless gems, and the man would never be the wiser. If he should get away from me, however, I would have taken desperate chances without being absolutely assured that my scheme had worked, that the trap had sprung upon the prey I sought. I would know when the trap sprung all right, but I wanted to be morally certain of the prey I had caught.
So I prayed a short prayer that I was acting on the right hunch and slipped away in the dark shadows of the yard, finding, as I had suspected all along, that it was absolutely no trick to elude the watchman.
Then I got a jolt. I made my way toward the garage, thinking that I would find the man with the bag preparing to take one of the cars, perhaps merely to borrow it, perhaps stealing it. The cars were all there, all in order, and I could find no trace of anyone in the garage.
Had I misjudged the man? Had he been ultra cautious and waited in the shadows there at the house? If so, beyond a doubt he had seen me follow what I supposed his trail had been, and there would be no chance that he was going to make it easier for me to capture him by coming to the garage — taking the very direction in which I had sprinted.
That left but one bet, and that was the paved road at the foot of the hill to the left. I swung out of the garage and skipped lightly through the shadows of the hedge, working my way over toward that paved road.
It was when I was halfway there that fortune once more played into my hands. There was a peculiar gleam ahead — darkness — the gleam again, then darkness, and then a small circle of light thrown down on the ground.
I slowed and began to stalk that circle of light. Under the circumstances, considering the stage of the game, and the stakes for which I was playing, I could afford to overlook no bets, and I had to find out what was in that light circle.
As silently as a moving shadow, I slipped along the deep grass, and then, suddenly heaved a great sigh of relief. It was the thief, and as might be expected, he was taking the first, apparently safe opportunity to make certain that he really had what he wanted. It would hardly do to bring to Icy-Eyes a substituted bag stuffed with paper and loaded with brick for weight.
The plush cases with the separate gems he hurriedly passed over, apparently anxious to examine the contents of the massive box in which I had placed the crown.
Prying back the cover with a small jimmy, he directed the beam from the flashlight inside, and then gasped. Well he might. I had worked out the color combinations of that crown with an eye to beauty, and with the idea of dazzling the eye so that an accurate appraisement would be nearly impossible. Now, in the reflected light which came from the brilliant beam of that flashlight, the whole interior of the box seemed to be one brilliant fire of dancing lights, of scintillating splendor. No wonder he sucked in his breath in a gasp of pure admiration, of sheer delight.
After a moment’s examination he bent to consider the workmanship of the box and crown more carefully. Here I could watch him, and must. I sneaked even closer, saw the prying fingers go down and examine the unusual manner in which the box had been constructed, the foreign touch to the workmanship, the crown which was set into the box with screwed clamps which must require a small wrench to unfasten them so that the crown could be taken out, and which, in the meantime, held the glittering bauble rigidly in place, preventing it from shifting about in the box.
These things he examined, then shut the lid of the box, picked up the cases which were on the grass, and tumbled them all back into the bag which he had slit open with a knife.
That done, he went through the hedge and gave a low whistle. Almost immediately there was the purr of a motor. A long, racing car which had been concealed within the shadows of some trees came quietly throbbing to the curb opposite the hedge, and the man with the bag scuttled across the sidewalk.
In that instant when he was getting in the machine and stowing the bag between his legs, while the attention of the two was distracted, the thief s upon the bag, the driver’s upon his gears, I sprinted for the rear of the car.
But they didn’t see me. I was like a fast flying shadow as I dashed on noiseless feet across the sidewalk, and by the time they raised their heads for an inspection of the hedge and street, I was hidden from their sight. Luck certainly had been with me so far, and I considered it as an omen. Not only had things worked out as I had hoped, but there was one of those folding luggage carriers on the rear bumper.
I did not have to cling desperately to a spare tire as I had expected would be the case, but was able to sit in comfort upon the flat surface of the trunk rack, taking my ease, chuckling at the antics that machine went through in order to make sure it was not being followed.
It was in one of the older residential districts where the houses sat well back from the street with plenty of elbow room, where the new type of construction had not penetrated, that the machine slowed down, swerved into the curb, and the man with the bag jumped from the seat and dashed up a walk.
With hardly so much as a pause in its progress, the car gathered speed and swept on. I left it at the next corner. My business was with the man with the bag, and while the car might come back, I could take no chances. It had to slow enough for the turn to enable me to jump clear without taking a spill, and that was my only move.
I worked through dark yards and regarded the back of the house into which the man with the bag had gone. There seemed to be no watchers in the yard. The whole place was just as a thousand other similar houses — to all outward appearance, anyway.
It was a small insulator on the side of the house that gave me my first clue. It had no business being there, for one thing, and it caught the light from a street corner and reflected it in my eyes, for another. It was not for a telephone wire, nor for electric light service.