“Par Dieu! Ze detectives!” he screamed.

Then he began to yell, swear, and rave in French, as he scrambled to his feet, and the officers made a rush for him.

“Ze Bradys!  Ze Bradys!” he shrieked.

At first they imagined these cries were due to his excitement.  But when he backed up against a door opening into an adjoining room with his arms stretched out, they saw through his purpose.

“Harry!”

“Well?”

“He’s warning some one in the next room.”

“I’ll see!”

The boy dashed out into the hall.

Old King Brady had his pistol in his hand.

Taking aim at the man’s head, he roared in stern tones: 

“Drop on your knees!”

“Oh, don’t fiair!” yelled La Croix, obeying.

“Raise your hands!”

“Sairtainly, Monsieur.”

“Now don’t budge, or—­”

He made a threatening gesture with the pistol at the wild-eyed Frenchman, from whose face all vestige of color had fled.

“No!  No!” gasped La Croix, imploringly.

Reaching his side, the detective handcuffed him.

Just then a boy knocked at the hall door.

“Who’s there?” cried the old detective.

“Boy, sir.”

“What do you want?”

“Mr. Gibson wants to see you, sir.”

“Send him up.”

“Yes, sir.”

Just then the door between the two rooms was flung open and Harry strode through with a puzzled look upon his face.

“No one in here,” he announced.

A pleased smile crossed La Croix’s face.

Observing it, Old King Brady exclaimed: 

“Your daughter was in that room, wasn’t she?”

“She was,” admitted La Croix, “but she hear ze attack and escape.”

“You warned her by yelling our names?”

“I deed, Monsieur.”

“Confound you!  Where are those diamonds?”

“Clara has got zem.”

“Don’t lie.”

“Sairch ze place an’ you see.”

The Bradys complied, but failed to find the missing diamonds.

“I’ll go after her!” cried Harry, hastily, and he rushed out.

A few moments after he had gone, Gibson came in, and a look of mingled surprise, rage and jealousy crossed his face when he saw the situation of affairs.

“How are you, Gibson?” laughed Old King Brady.  “I’ve got La Croix!”

“You’ve cheated me!” snarled the inspector, furiously.

“Bless your heart, you’ve got the matter twisted.  It was you interfering with our game.  We’ve been after this man two months.  And you ain’t going to skim the cream off our hard work, I can tell you.”

“You lie, Brady—­”

An angry light sparkled in the old detective’s eyes at this insult and he doubled up his fist, strode over to the inspector and struck him in the face.

“Don’t you dare insult me, you cur!” he exclaimed.