Patsy Garvan realized on the instant that he had been trapped; that he was in wrong, as well as right; that the man who now held him up must have suspected something threatening, and instead of responding to the knock on the outer door, had quickly extinguished the light in the parlor and then stepped into the bedroom to await developments.
That, at least, was the way Patsy immediately sized it up.
As quickly, too, recalling the bandage around his neck and his upturned collar, he resorted to a subterfuge which he thought might serve his purpose and prevent an exposure of his true identity and designs.
Sharply eying the threatening intruder, therefore, whom he rightly inferred was the absent physician’s valet, or more properly his confederate, Patsy coolly answered:
“Don’t get miffed, o
