one of its brother cobblestones below!"

Gavegan choked out an apology, whereat Hunt flung him from him. The
detective, glowering at the other, pulled aside curtains, peered into
corners; then made furious and fruitless search of the rooms below,
bringing up at last at Maggie's door, which the Duchess had slipped
ahead of him and locked. When he demanded the key, the Duchess told him
of Maggie's departure and her carrying the key with her. It was a
solid door, with strong lock and hinges; and two minutes of Gavegan's
battering shoulders were required to make it yield entrance. Not till he
found the room empty did Gavegan think of the trap and the roof.

Larry made good use of these few extra minutes granted him. Whatever
he was to do he realized he must do it quickly. Not for long would the
forces arrayed against him be small in number; Gavegan, though beaten at
the outset, would send out an alarm that would arouse the police of the
city--and in their own degree the gangsters would do the same. During
his weeks of freedom Larry had unconsciously studied the layout of the
neighborhood, his old instincts at work. The subconscious knowledge thus
gained was of instant value. He hurried along the slippery roofs, taking
care not to trip over the dividing walls, and came to the rear edge of
a roof where he had marked a fire-escape with an unusually broad upper
landing. He could discern the faint outlines of this; and hanging to the
gutter he dropped to the fire-escape, and a moment later he was down
in the back yard; and yet two moments later he was over two fences and
going through a rabbit's burrow of a passageway that went beneath a
house into the street behind his own.

He did not pause to reconnoiter. Time was of the essence of his safety,
risks had to be taken. He plunged out of his hole--around the first
corner--around the next--and thus wove in and out, working westward,
till at last, on turning a corner into a lighted street, he saw possible
relief in two stray taxicabs before a little East Side restaurant, one
of which was just leaving.

"Taxi!" he called breathlessly.

The chauffeur of the moving car swung back beside the curb and opened
the door. But even as he started to enter he saw Little Mick and Lefty
Ed turn into the street behind him. However, the brightness of this
street ill-accorded with the anonymity with which their art is most
safely and profitably practiced, so Larry got in without a bullet
flick