t it that
still works is the horn. You've got a hell of a horn, Gavegan, and it
never stops blowing."

A tug was nearing the dock, and by its light Larry saw the terrific
swing that the enraged detective started. Larry swayed slightly aside,
and as Gavegan lunged by, Larry's right fist drove into Gavegan's
chin--drove with all the power of his dislike and all the strength of
five years in a Y.M.C.A. gymnasium and a year in a prison boiler-room.

Gavegan went down and out.

Larry gazed a moment at the dim, sprawling figure, then turned and made
his way off the pier and again to the door of the pawnshop. Casey was
gone; he could see no one within but Old Isaac, the assistant.

Larry opened the door and entered. "Hello, Isaac. Where's grandmother?"

It is not a desirable trait in one connected with a pawnshop, that is
also reputed to be a fence, to show surprise or curiosity. So Isaac's
reply was confined to a few facts and brief direction.

Wondering, Larry mounted the stairway which opened from the confidential
business room behind the pawnshop. It was common enough for his
grandmother to rent out the third floor; but to a painter, and a crazy
painter--that seemed strange. And yet more strange was it for her to be
having dinner with the painter.

Larry knocked at the door. A big male voice within gave order:

"Be parlor-maid, Maggie, and see who's there."

The door opened and Larry half entered. Then he stopped, and in surprise
gazed at the flushed, gleaming Maggie, slender and supple in the folds
of the Spanish shawl.

"Why, Maggie!" he exclaimed, holding out his hand.

"Larry!"

She was thrillingly confused by his surprised admiration. For a moment
they stood gazing at each other, holding hands. The clothes given him on
leaving prison were of course atrocious, but in all else he measured up
to her dreams: lithe, well-built, handsome, a laugh ready on his lips,
and the very devil of daring in his smiling, gray-blue eyes.

"How you have grown up, Maggie!" he said, still amazed.

"That's all I've had to do for two years," she returned.

"Come on in, Larry," said the Duchess.

Larry shut the door, bowed with light grace as he had to pass in front
of Maggie, and crossed to the Duchess.

"Hello, grandmother," he said as though he had last seen her the
day before. He held out his hand, the left one, and she took it in a
mummified claw. In all his life he had never kissed his grandmother, nor
did he rememb