“Get rid of that gat—­don’t be found with a gun on,” ordered Casey.  “And beat it.  You’ve got less than five minutes to make your get-away.”

“My get-away!  What’s up?”

“You haven’t come across as the Chief ordered you to, and he’s out to give you just what he said he would,” Casey said rapidly, his speech broken by panting.  “There’s been a stick-up, with assault that may be changed to attempted manslaughter, and the Chief has three men who swear you’re the guilty party.  It’s a sure-fire case against you, Larry—­and it’ll mean five to ten years if you’re caught.  Gavegan and I got the order to arrest you.  I’ve beat Gavegan to it so’s to tip you off, but he’s only a few minutes behind.  Hurry, Larry!  Only—­only—­”

Casey paused, gasping for his wind.

“Only what, Casey?”

“Only alibi me, Larry, by slipping over a haymaker on me like you did on Gavegan.  So’s I can say I tried to get you, but you were too quick and knocked me cold.  Quick!  Only not too hard—­I know how to play possum.”

Larry handed the pistol to Hunt.  “Casey, you’re a real scout!  Thanks!” He grasped Casey’s hand, then swiftly relaxed his grip.  “Ready?”

“Fire,” said Casey.

Larry held his open left hand close to Casey’s jaw, and drove his right fist into his palm with a thudding smack.  Casey went sprawling to the floor, and lay there loosely, with mouth agape, in perfect simulation of a man who has been knocked out.

Larry turned quickly.  “You two will testify that I beat Casey up and then made my escape?”

“Sure, I’ll testify to anything for the sake of a good old goat like Casey!” cried Hunt.  “But hurry, boy—­beat it!”

The Duchess held out Larry’s hat to him, and thrust into his coat pocket a roll of bills which had come from her capacious skirt.  “Hurry, Larry—­and be careful—­for you’re all I’ve got.”

Impulsively Larry stooped and kissed the thin, shriveled lips of his grandmother—­the first kiss he had ever given her.  Then he turned and ran down the stairway, Hunt just behind him.  He turned out the light in the back room, and called to Old Isaac to darken the pawnshop proper.  He was going forth with two forces in arms against him, the police and his pals, and he had no desire to be a shining mark for either or both by stepping through a lighted doorway.

“Larry, my son, you’re all right!” said Hunt, gripping his hand in the darkness.  “Listen, boy:  if ever you’re trapped and can get to a telephone, call Plaza nine-double-o-one and say ‘Benvenuto Cellini.’”

“All right.”

“Remember, you’re to say ‘Benvenuto Cellini,’ and the telephone is Plaza nine-double-o-one.  Luck to you!” Again they gripped hands.  Then Larry slipped through the darkened doorway into whatever might lie beyond.

CHAPTER XI

A misting rain was being swirled about by a temperish wind as Larry came out into the little street.  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.