Three hundred and ten dollars, Mag Monahan. Three hundred and
ten, and Nance Olden!

"Glory be!" I whispered.

"Glory be damned!" I heard behind me.

I turned. The bills just leaked out of my hand on to the floor.

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!"