cond, on his return at the end of the afternoon, he saw standing
before the house a taxicab with a trunk beside the chauffeur. In the
musty museum of a room behind the pawnshop he found Hunt and the Duchess
and Old Jimmie and Barney; and also Maggie, coming down the stairway,
hat and coat on and carrying a suitcase. A sharp pain throbbed through
him as he recognized the significance of Maggie's hat and coat and
baggage.

"Maggie--you're going away?" he exclaimed.

"Yes."

She had paused at the foot of the stairway, and at sight of him had gone
a little pale and wide-eyed. But in an instant she had recovered her
accustomed flair; there came a proud lift to her head, a flash of scorn
into her dark eyes.

"At last I'm leaving this street for good," she said. "I told you that
some day I was going out into the world and do big things. The time's
come--I'm graduated--I'm going to begin real work. And I'm going to
succeed--you see!"

"Maggie!" he breathed. Then impulsively he started toward her
authoritatively. "Maggie, I'm not going to let you do anything of the
sort!"

But swiftly Barney had stepped in between them, Old Jimmie just behind
him.

"Keep out of this!" Barney snapped at Larry, a reddish blaze in his
eyes. "Maggie's going away and you can't stop her. D'you think her
father is going to let her stay down here any longer, where you can
spout your preaching at her!--and you all the time a stool and a
squealer!"

"What's that?" cried Larry.

"I called you a stool!" repeated the malignantly exultant Barney, alert
for any move on the part of the suddenly tensed Larry. "And you are
a stool! Didn't I see you myself go into Headquarters with Casey and
Gavegan where you sold yourself to Chief Barlow!"

"Why, you damned--"

Even before he spoke Larry launched a furious swing straight from the
hip at Barney's twisted face. But Barney had been expecting exactly
that, and was even the quicker. He caught Larry's wrist before it was
fairly started, and thrust a dull-hued automatic into Larry's stomach.

"Behave; damn you," gritted Barney, "or I'll blow your damned guts out!
No--go ahead and try to hit me. I'd like nothing better than to kill
you, you rat, and have a good plea of self-defense!"

Larry let his hands unclench and fall to his sides. "You've got the drop
on me, Barney--but you're a liar."

"You bet I got the drop on you! And not only with my gun. I've got it
on you about being a stool. Everybody kno