pocket. He was bellowing like a bull--yelling at Billy
that he was under arrest. Men at the tables were on their feet. Those at
the bar had turned around as Flannagan started to run across the floor.
Now some of them were moving in the direction of the detective and
his prey, but whether from curiosity or with sinister intentions it is
difficult to say.

One thing, however, is certain--if all the love that was felt for
policemen in general by the men in that room could have been combined
in a single individual it still scarcely would have constituted a grand
passion.

Flannagan felt rather than saw that others were closing in on him,
and then, fortunately for himself, he thought, he managed to draw his
weapon. It was just as Billy was fading through the doorway into the
room beyond. He saw the revolver gleam in the policeman's hand and then
it became evident why Billy had clung so tenaciously to his schooner
of beer. Left-handed and hurriedly he threw it; but even Flannagan must
have been constrained to admit that it was a good shot. It struck the
detective directly in the midst of his features, gave him a nasty cut on
the cheek as it broke and filled his eyes full of beer--and beer never
was intended as an eye wash.

Spluttering and cursing, Flannagan came to a sudden stop, and when he
had wiped the beer from his eyes he found that Billy Byrne had passed
through the doorway and closed the door after him.

The room in which Billy and Bridge found themselves was a small one in
the center of which was a large round table at which were gathered
a half-dozen men at poker. Above the table swung a single arc lamp,
casting a garish light upon the players beneath.

Billy looked quickly about for another exit, only to find that besides
the doorway through which he had entered there was but a single aperture
in the four walls-a small window, heavily barred. The place was a
veritable trap.

At their hurried entrance the men had ceased their play, and one or two
had risen in profane questioning and protest. Billy ignored them. He was
standing with his shoulder against the door trying to secure it against
the detective without; but there was neither bolt nor bar.

Flannagan hurtling against the opposite side exerted his noblest efforts
to force an entrance to the room; but Billy Byrne's great weight held
firm as Gibraltar. His mind revolved various wild plans of escape; but
none bade fair to offer the slightest foothold to h