"Am I invited?"
"Invited?" said Hunt. "You're the guest of honor."
"Then might the guest of honor beg the privilege of cleaning up a
bit?" Larry drew his right hand from his coat pocket, where it had
been all this while, and started to unwind the handkerchief which he
had wound about his knuckles as he had crossed from the pier.
"Is your hand hurt much?" Maggie inquired eagerly.
"Just skinned my knuckles."
"How?"
"They happened to connect with a flatfoot's jaw while he was trying to
make hypnotic passes at me. He's coming to about now. Officer
Gavegan."
"Gavegan!" exclaimed Hunt. "You picked a tough bird. Young man, you're
off to a grand start--a charge of assault on an officer the very day
they turn you out of jail."
Larry smiled. "Gavegan is a dirty one, but he'll make no charge of
assault. He claims to be heavy-weight champion boxer of the Police
Department. Put a fine crimp in his reputation, wouldn't it, if he
admitted in public that he'd been knocked out by a fellow, bare-
handed, supposed to be weak from prison life, forty pounds lighter.
He'd get the grand razoo all along the line. Oh, Gavegan will never
let out a peep."
"He'll square things in some other way," said Hunt.
"I suppose he'll try," Larry responded carelessly.
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