"And I'll get plenty on you again!--now that I know you are the main
guy of a clever outfit. You'll be starting some smooth game--but I'm
going to be right after you every minute. And I'll get you. That's the
news I wanted to slip you."

"So!" commented Larry drawlingly. "Casey's a fairly decent guy,
considering his line--but, Gavegan, I don't see how Casey stands you
as a partner. And, Gavegan, I don't see why the Board of Health lets
you stay around the streets--when putrefying matter causes so much
disease."

"None of your lip, young feller!" growled Gavegan. He stepped closer,
bulking over Larry. "You think you are such a damned smart talker and
such a damned clever schemer--but I'll bet I'll have you locked up in
six months."

Anger boiled up within Larry. Against all the persons connected with
his arrest, trial, and imprisonment, he had no particular resentment,
except against this one man. He never could forget the time he and
Gavegan, he handcuffed, had been locked in a sound-proof cell, and
Gavegan had given him the third degree--in this case a length of heavy
rubber hose, applied with a powerful arm upon head and shoulders--in
an effort to make him squeal upon his confederates. And that third
degree was merely a sample of the material of which Gavegan was made.

Larry held his desire in leash. "So you bet you'll get me. I'll take
that bet--any figure you like. I've already got a new game cooked up,
Gavegan. Cleverer than anything I've ever tried before."

"Oh, I'll get you!" Gavegan growled again.