street, he saw that Old Isaac has
switched on the lights; and he also saw Officer Gavegan bearing down in
his direction. They sighted each other in the same instant, and Gavegan
let out a roar and started for him.

Caught between two opposing forces, Larry again had no time to plan.
Rather, there was nothing he could plan, for only one way was open
to him. He dashed into the pawnshop and into the back room. At the
Duchess's desk Hunt was scribbling at furious speed.

"I'm caught, Hunt--Gavegan's coming," he gasped, and ran up the stairs,
Hunt following and stuffing his scribblings into a pocket. As Larry
passed the open studio door he saw Casey sitting up. "Down on the floor
with you, Casey! Hunt, work over him to bring him to--and stall Gavegan
for a while if you can."

With that Larry sprang to a ladder at the end of the little hall, ran
up it, unhooked and pushed up the trap, scrambled through upon the roof,
and pushed the trap back into place.

Fortune, or rather the well-wishing wits of friends below, gave Larry a
few precious moments more than he had counted on. He was barely out
on the rain-greased tin roof, with the trap down, when Gavegan came
thumping up the stairs and into the studio. At sight of the recumbent
Casey, head limply on Hunt's knees, and his loose face being laved by a
wet towel in Hunt's hands, Gavegan let out another roar:

"Hell's bells! What the hell's this mean?"

"I tried to nab Brainard," Casey mumbled feebly, "and he knocked me out
cold--the same as he did you, Gavegan."

"Hell!" snorted Gavegan, his wrath increased by this reference. "You
there"--to Hunt and the Duchess--"where'd Brainard go? He's in this
house some place!"

"I don't know," said Hunt.

"Yes, you do! Leave that boob side-kick of mine sleep it off, and help
me find Brainard or you'll feel my boot!"

The big painter stood up facing the big detective and his left hand
gripped the latter's wrist and his right closed upon the detective's
throat just as it had closed upon the lean throat of Old Jimmie on the
day of Larry's return--only now there was nothing playful in the noose
of that big hand. He shook Gavegan as he might have shaken a pillow,
with a thumb thrusting painfully in beneath Gavegan's ear.

"I've done nothing, and that bully stuff doesn't go with me!" he
fairly spat into Gavegan's face. "You talk to me like a gentleman and
apologize, or I'll throw you out of the window and let your head bounce
off