With that he swung open the door, switched on the electric light, and
Narkom fairly blinked at the dazzling sight that confronted him. Three
long tables, laden with crystal and silver, cut glass and jewels, and
running the full length of the room, flashed and scintillated under the
glare of the electric bulbs which encircled the cornice of the gallery,
and clustered in luminous splendour in the crystal and frosted silver of
a huge central chandelier, and spread out on the middle one of these--a
dazzle of splintered rainbows, a very plain of living light--lay caskets
and cases, boxes and trays, containing those royal gifts of which the
newspapers had made so much and the Vanishing Cracksman had sworn to
make so few.

Mr. Narkom went over and stood beside the glittering mass, resting his
hand against the table and feasting his eyes upon all that opulent
splendour.

"God bless my soul! it's superb, it's amazing," he commented. "No wonder
the fellow is willing to take risks for a prize like this. You are a
splendid temptation; a gorgeous bait, you beauties; but the fish that
snaps at you will find that there's a nasty hook underneath in the shape
of Maverick Narkom. Never mind the many windows, Sir Horace. Let him
come in by them, if that's his plan. I'll never leave these things for
one instant between now and the morning. Good night, Miss Lorne. Go to
bed and to sleep--you do the same, Sir Horace. My lay is here!"

With that he stooped and, lifting the long drapery which covered the
table and swept down in heavy folds to the floor, crept out of sight
under it, and let it drop back into place again.

"Switch off the light and go," he called to them in a low-sunk voice.