“This Larry—­what sort of chap is he, Maggie?” As with most artists, talking did not interfere with Hunt’s painting.

Warm color slowly tinted Maggie’s cheeks.  “He’s clever,” she said positively.  “You already know that.  But I was only a girl when he was sent away.”

Hunt smiled at her idea of her present maturity, implied by her last sentence.  “But you lived with the Duchess for a year before he was sent away.  You must have seen a lot of him, and got to know him well.”

“Oh, he used to come down now and then to see his grandmother—­I was only fifteen or sixteen then—­just a girl, and he didn’t pay much attention to me.  Father can tell you better just how smart he is.”

Old Jimmie spoke up promptly.  He knew Hunt was not a police stool, and he liked the painter as much as it was in him to like any man; so he felt none of the reserve or caution that might have controlled him in other company.

“You bet Larry’s smart!  Got the quickest brain of any con man in the business—­and him only about twenty-seven now.  Some think I’m a smooth proposition myself, but Larry puts it all over me.  That’s why I’m willing to let him be my boss.  He’s a wonder at thinking up new stunts, and then at working out safe new ways of putting them across.”

“But the police landed him at last,” commented Hunt.

“Yes, but that was only because another man muffed his end of the job.”

The handsome Barney Palmer had been restless during Old Jimmie’s eulogy.  “Oh, Larry’s all to the good—­but he’s not the only party that’s got real ideas.”

“Huh!” grunted Old Jimmie.  “But you’ll remember that we haven’t put over any big ones since Larry’s been in stir.”

“That’s been because you wouldn’t listen to any of my ideas!” retorted Barney.  “And I handed out some peaches.”

Even during the period of Larry’s active reign it had irked Barney to accept another man as leader, and it had irked him even more during the interregnum while Larry was guest of the State.  For Barney believed in his own Napoleonic strain.

“Don’t let yourself get sore, Barney,” Old Jimmie said appeasingly.  “You’ll have plenty of chances to try out your ideas as the main guy before you cash in.  You know the outfit wanted to lay low for a while, anyhow.  But we’ll be putting over a lot of the big stuff when Larry gets out.”

Hunt had noted a quick light come into Maggie’s dark eyes while her father praised the absent leader.  He himself suddenly perceived a new possibility.

“Maggie, ever think about teaming up with Larry?” he demanded, with his audacious keenness.

She flushed, and hesitated.  He did not wait for her slow-coming reply, but turned to her father.

“Jimmie, did Larry ever use women in his stunts?”

“Never.  Whenever we suggested using a skirt, Larry absolutely said there was nothing doing.  That’s one point where he was all wrong.  Nothing helps so much, when the sucker is at all sentimental, as a clever, good-looking woman.  And Larry’ll come around to it all right.  He’ll see the sense of it, now that he’s older and has had two years to think things over.”