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A tug was nearing the dock, and by its light Larry saw the terrific swing that the enraged detective started. Larry swayed slightly aside, and as Gavegan lunged by, Larry's right fist drove into Gavegan's chin drove with all the power of his dislike and all the strength of five years in a Y.M.C.A. gymnasium and a year in a prison boiler-room. Gavegan went down and out.
"She came down to see me, told me what had just happened at her place, told me about Barney hurrying away to slip the news to that Gavegan, and begged me to warn you at once. She was terribly nervous and wrought up." "Maggie did that!" he breathed. His heart leaped at her unexpected concern for him. "Maggie did that!" And then: "There wasn't any need; she should have known that I would know."
Down toward the river the one gaslight glowed faintly like an expiring nebula; all the little shops were closed; home lights gleamed behind the curtained windows which the storm had closed; so that the street was now a little canyon of uncertain shadows. Larry had not needed to think to know that Gavegan would be making his vindictive approach from the westerly regions where lay Headquarters.
Barney nodded to Gavegan, chatted for a few minutes with his musical-comedy friend, during which he gave Gavegan a signal, then crossed to the once-crowded bar, now sunk to isolation and the lowly estate of soft drinks, and ordered a ginger ale. Not until then did he notice Barlow, chief of the Detective Bureau, at a corner table.
Close beside the Chief he saw the gloating, malignant face of Gavegan; Casey, who had been restless since the beginning of the scene, had moved to the window and was gazing down into Center Street. For a moment Larry did not reply. Barlow mistook Larry's silence for wavering, or the beginning of an inclination to yield. "You turn that over in your noodle," Barlow drove on.
Maggie did not yet know what had befallen Larry, and Gavegan had neglected to telephone his Chief of the arrest. Even had Gavegan done so, the large and vague manner in which Maggie had stated the situation would have stirred Barlow's curiosity. "All right. I'll put a couple of my good men on the case. Where shall I send 'em?" "A couple of your good men won't do.
He returned and faced Larry. "I guess you'll admit, Brainard, that I've got you for keeps this time." "Then suppose we be starting for Headquarters." Larry responded. Hunt moved to Larry's side. "I'll just trail along after you, Larry. Anyhow, this doesn't seem to be any place for me." A few minutes afterwards Larry was in a car beside Gavegan, speeding away from Cedar Crest toward the city.
Brandon, but Miss Sherwood knows exactly who I am and what I've been." "How long have you been here?" "Since that night when Barney and Old Jimmie took you away to begin your new career the same night that I ran away from those gunmen who thought I was a squealer, and from Casey and Gavegan."
Brainard, how do you come to possess Miss Cameron's portrait?" It was Gavegan who spoke up promptly, and not either of the two suddenly discomfited men. And Gavegan instantly sensed in the situation a chance to get even for the humiliation his self-esteem had just suffered. "Miss Cameron nothing!
Them Chicago bums couldn't catch a crook if he walked along State Street with a sign-board on him!" "Saw Larry Brainard to-night." Gavegan had difficulty in maintaining his attitude of non-awareness of his bar-mate. "Where?" "Right here in New York." "What! Where'd you see him?" "Coming out of the Grantham." "When?" "Fifteen minutes ago."
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