III
The studio-door opened quietly and the same austere and self-contained man who had sat at the café table stepped into the room.
There was no visible change of facial expression as his eye swept the studio and at one circling glance seemed to take in every detail of the situation.
"What's this?" was his final curt demand.
"We caught this guy rubberin' into our safe," was the girl's answer. She stepped over and swung half-shut the steel door to which still clung Kestner's sounding-tube of pasteboard. "And, say, Governor, he ain't no sandpaper artist, either!"
Kestner saw it was time to talk.
"I want you to listen to me, Lambert," he began, in that clear and steady note of authority which his office could at times give to him.
"Shut up!" was Lambert's command.
"No; I'll not shut up! We've got something to talk out here, and—"
"Gag him, Tony!" cried Lambert, with an impatient gesture towards the door at the far end of the studio.
Morello stepped through this door, and promptly stepped back into the room with a towel in his hands. This towel he quickly tore in two, knotting the two pieces together as he approached the chair where Kestner sat.
26
