social club-room down-stairs.  The gambling is all on the second floor, beyond this door, in a room without a window in it.  Surely you’ve heard of that famous gambling-room, with its perfect system of artificial ventilation and electric lighting that makes it rival noonday at midnight.  And don’t tell me I’ve got to get on the other side of the door by strategy, either.  It is strategy-proof.  The system of lookouts is perfect.  No, force is necessary, but it must not be destructive of life or property—­or, by heaven, I’d drive up there and riddle the place with a fourteen-inch gun,” exclaimed O’Connor.

“H’m!” mused Kennedy as he flicked the ashes off his cigar and meditatively watched a passing freight-train on the railroad below us.  “There goes a car loaded with tons and tons of scrap-iron.  You want me to scrap that three-inch steel door, do you?”

“Kennedy, I’ll buy that particular scrap from you at—­almost its weight in gold.  The fact is, I have a secret fund at my disposal such as former commissioners have asked for in vain.  I can afford to pay you well, as well as any private client, and I hear you have had some good fees lately.  Only deliver the goods.”

“No,” answered Kennedy, rather piqued, “it isn’t money that I am after.  I merely wanted to be sure that you are in earnest.  I can get you past that door as if it were made of green baize.”

It was O’Connor’s turn to look incredulous, but as Kennedy apparently meant exactly what he said, he simply asked, “And will you?”

“I will do it to-night if you say so,” replied Kennedy quietly.  “Are you ready?”

For answer O’Connor simply grasped Craig’s hand, as if to seal the compact.

“All right, then,” continued Kennedy.  “Send a furniture-van, one of those closed vans that the storage warehouses use, up to my laboratory any time before seven o’clock.  How many men will you need in the raid?  Twelve?  Will a van hold that many comfortably?  I’ll want to put some apparatus in it, but that won’t take much room.”

“Why, yes, I think so,” answered O’Connor.  “I’ll get a well-padded van so that they won’t be badly jolted by the ride down-town.  By George!  Kennedy, I see you know more of that side of police strategy than I gave you credit for.”

“Then have the men drop into my laboratory singly about the same time.  You can arrange that so that it will not look suspicious, so far up-town.  It will be dark, anyhow.  Perhaps, O’Connor, you can make up as the driver yourself—­anyhow, get one you can trust absolutely.  Then have the van down near the corner of Broadway below the club, driving slowly along about the time the theatre crowd is out.  Leave the rest to me.  I will give you or the driver orders when the time comes.”

As O’Connor thanked Craig, he remarked without a shade of insincerity, “Kennedy, talk about being commissioner, you ought to be commissioner.”

“Wait till I deliver the goods,” answered Craig simply.  “I may fall down and bring you nothing but a lawsuit for damages for unlawful entry or unjust persecution, or whatever they call it.”