my promise! All I said was that the weather bureau of my bad toe
predicts that there's likely to be a storm because of this--and I want
you to use your brain, son, I want you to use your brain!"

He upreared his big, shag-haired figure and gripped Larry's hand.
"You're all right, Larry--and here's wishing you luck! Now get to hell
out of here before Gavegan and Casey drop in for a cup of tea, or your
old friends begin target practice with their hip artillery. I want a
little quiet in which to finish my packing.

"And say, son," he added, as he pushed Larry through the door, "don't
fall dead at the sight of me when you see me next, for I'm likely to be
walking around inside all the finery and vanity of Fifth Avenue."

CHAPTER XXI

Larry came down the stairway from Hunt's studio in a mood of high
elation. Through Hunt's promise of cooperation he had at least made a
start in his unformed plan regarding Maggie. Somehow, he'd work out and
put across the rest of it.

Then Hunt's prediction of the trouble that might rise through
his silence recurred to Larry. Indeed, that was a delicate
situation!--containing all kinds of possible disasters for himself as
well as for Hunt. He would have to be most watchful, most careful, or he
would find himself entangled in worse circumstances than at present.

As he came down into the little back room, his grandmother was sitting
over her interminable accounts, each of which represented a little
profit to herself, some a little relief to many, some a tragedy to a
few; and many of which were in code, for these represented transactions
of a character which no pawnshop, particularly one reputed to be a
fence, wishes ever to have understood by those presumptive busy-bodies,
the police. When Larry had first entered, she had merely given him an
unsurprised "good-evening" and permitted him to pass on. But now, as
he told her good-night and turned to leave, she said in her thin,
monotonous voice:

"Sit down for a minute, Larry. I want to talk to you."

Larry obeyed. "Yes, grandmother."

But the Duchess did not at once speak. She held her red-rimmed,
unblinking eyes on him steadily. Larry waited patiently. Though she was
so composed, so self-contained, Larry knew her well enough to know that
what was passing in her mind was something of deep importance, at least
to her.

At length she spoke. "You saw Maggie that night you hurried away from
here?"

"Yes, grandmother. Have you hea