You don't suppose a
determined criminal like Anisty, for instance, would bother
himself about a handful of thick-headed servants, do you?"
"Anisty?"--with a rising inflection of inquiry.
Bannerman squared himself to face his host, elbows on table.
"You don't mean to say you've not heard of Anisty, the great
Anisty?" he demanded.
"I dare say I have," Maitland conceded, unperturbed. "Name rings
familiar, somehow."
"Anisty,"--deliberately, "is said to be the greatest jewel thief
the world has ever known. He has the police of America and Europe
by the ears to catch him. They have been hot on his trail for the
past three years, and would have nabbed him a dozen times if only
he'd had the grace to stay in one place long enough. The man who
made off with the Bracegirdle diamonds, smashing a burglar-proof
vault into scrap-iron to get 'em--don't you remember?"
"Ye-es; I seem to recall the affair, now that you mention it,"
Maitland admitted, bored. "Well, and what of Mr. Anisty?"
"Only what I have told you, taken in connection with the
circumstance that he is known to be in New York, and that the
Maitland heirlooms are tolerably famous--as much so as your
careless habits, Dan. Now, a safe deposit vault--"
"Um-m-m," considered Maitland. "You really believe that Mr. Anisty
has his bold burglarious eye on my property?"
"It's a big enough haul to attract him," argued the lawyer
earnestly; "Anisty always aims high.... Now, _will_ you do
what I have been begging you to do for the past eight years?"
"Seven," corrected Maitland punctiliously.
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