Any obsession is a blindfold. A straight course lay open to Cutty,
but he chose the labyrinthian because he was obsessed. He wanted
those emeralds. Nothing less than the possession of them would, to his
thinking, round out a varied and active career. Later, perhaps, he would
declare the stones to the customs and pay the duty; perhaps. Thus his
subsequent mishaps this night may be laid to the fact that he thought
and saw through green spectacles.

The idea that the jewels were hidden near by made it imperative that he
should handle this affair exclusively. Coles, the operative he had sent
to negotiate with Karlov, was conceivably a prisoner upstairs or down.
Coles knew about the drums, and they must not turn up under his eye.
Federal property, in that event.

If ever he laid his hands upon the drums he would buy something gorgeous
for Kitty. Little thoroughbred!

Time for work. Without doubt Karlov had cellar exits through this
warehouse or the other. The job on hand would be first to locate these
exits, and then to the trap on the roof. With his pocket lamp blazing a
trail he went down to the cellar and carefully inspected the walls that
abutted those of the house. Nothing on this side.

He left the warehouse and hugged the street wall for a space. The street
was deserted. Instead of passing Karlov's abode he wisely made a detour
of the block. He reached the entrance to the second warehouse without
sighting even a marauding tom. In the cellar of this warehouse he
discovered a newly made door, painted skillfully to represent the
limestone of the foundation. Tiptop.