“I’ve done nothing, and I’ll not go!” Larry cried hotly.

“Oh, yes, you will!” Gavegan withdrew his right hand from his coat pocket where it had been resting in readiness.  In the hand, its thong about his wrist, was a short leather-covered object filled with lead.  “I’ve got my orders, and you’ll come peaceably, or—­But I’d just as soon you’d resist, for I owe you something for the punch you slipped over on me the other night.”

Larry, taut with the desire to strike, gazed for a moment into the glowering face of the detective.  Gavegan, gripping his right arm, with that bone-crushing slug-shot itching for instant use, was apparently master in the present circumstances.  But before Larry’s quick mind had decided upon a course, the door of the pawnshop opened and closed, and a voice said sharply: 

“Nothing doing on that rough stuff, Gavegan!” The speaker was now on Larry’s left side, a heavy-faced man in a black derby.  “Larry, better be a nice boy and come with us.”

“Oh, it’s you, Casey!” said Larry.  “If you say I’ve got to go, I’ll go—­for you’re one white copper, even if you do have Gavegan for a partner.  Come on.  What’re we standing here for?”

The trio made their way out of the narrow street, and after some fifteen minutes of walking through the twisting byways of that part of the city, they passed through the granite doorway at Headquarters and entered the office of Deputy Commissioner Barlow, Chief of the Detective Bureau.  Barlow was talking over the telephone in a growling staccato, and the three men sat down.  After a moment Barlow banged the receiver upon its hook, and turned upon them.  He had a clenched, driving face, with small, commanding eyes.  It was his boast that he got results, that it was his policy to make people do what you told ’em.  He had no other code.

“Well, Brainard,” he snapped, “here you are again.  What you up to now?”

“Going to try the straight game, Chief,” returned Larry.

“Don’t try to put that old bunk over on me!”

“It’s not bunk, Chief.  It’s the real stuff.”

“Cut it out, I say!  Don’t you suppose I had a clever bird like you picked up the minute you landed in the city, and have had you covered ever since?  And if you are going straight, what about the session you had with Barney Palmer and Old Jimmie Carlisle the very night you blew in?  And I’m on to this bluff of your going to that business institute.  So come across, Brainard!  I’ve got your every move covered!”

“I’ve already come across, Chief,” replied Larry, trying to keep his temper in the face of the other’s bullying manner.  “I told Barney and Old Jimmie that I was through with the old game, and through with them as pals at the old game—­that’s all there was to that meeting.  I’m going to that business institute for the same reason that every other person goes there—­to learn.  That’s all there is to the whole business, Chief:  I’m going to go straight.”