volver was out before he could raise the hand again. Army practice
came handy to Burke in this juncture.

"Keep your hand where it is," exclaimed the policeman, "or you'll get a
bullet through it."

"You dog, I'll get you sent up for this," muttered the big man.

But with his revolver covering the fellow, Burke quickly "frisked" the
hip pocket and discovered the bulk of a weapon. This was enough.

"I fixed the Monk. Now, you're going up for the Sullivan Law against
carrying firearms. You're number one, with me, in settling up this
score!" Jimmie had shown signs of awakening from the slumber induced
by Burke's sturdy right hand.

He pulled himself up as Burke marched his man around the corner. The
Monk hurried, somewhat unsteadily, to the edge of the fruit stand and
looked round it after the two figures.

"Do youse know dat cop, ye damn Ginnie?" muttered Jimmie.

"Signor, no!" replied the fruit dealer, nervously. "I never saw heem
on dis beat before to-day, wenna he buy de apple from me."

Jimmie turned--discretion conquering temporary vengeance, and started
in the opposite direction. He stopped long enough to say, as he rubbed
his bruised jaw, "Well, Wop, ye ain't like to see much more of 'im
around dis dump neither, an' ye ain't likely to see yerself neither, if
ye do too much talkin' wid de cops."

Jimmie hurried up the street to a certain rendezvous to arrange for a
rescue party of some sort. In the meantime Officer 4434 led an
unwilling prisoner to the station house, one hand upon the man's right
arm. His own right hand gripped his stick firmly.

"You make a wiggle and I'm going to give it to you where I got that
brick, only harder," said Burke, softly.

A crowd of urchins, young men and even a few straggling women followed
him with his prisoner. It grew to enormous proportions by the time he
had reached the station house.

As they entered the front room Captain Sawyer looked up from his desk,
where he had been checking up some reports.

"Ah, what have we this time, Burke?"

"This man is carrying a revolver in his hip pocket," declared the
officer. "That will take care of him, I suppose."

Dexter, at the captain's direction, searched the man. The revolver was
the first prize. In his pocket was a queer memorandum book. It
contained page after page of girls' names, giving only the first name,
with some curious words in cipher code after each one. In the same
pocket was a long, flat pa