uff, 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."

Chief Barlow, hunched forward, his undershot jaw clenched on a cigar
stub, regarded Larry steadily with his beady, autocratic eyes. Barlow
was trained to penetrate to the inside of men's minds, and he recognized
that Larry was in earnest.

"You mean you think you are going to go straight," Barlow remarked
slowly and meaningly.

"I know I am going to go straight," Larry returned evenly, meeting