Barlow had passed this tip along to
Gavegan. Gavegan had grumbled to himself that it was only a thousand
to one shot; but luck had been with him, and his long shot had won.
Miss Sherwood, Hunt behind her, had been drawn by the sound of voices
around to the side of the veranda where stood the four men. "What are
you doing?" she now sharply demanded of Gavegan.
"Don't like to make any unpleasant scene, Miss Sherwood, but I've
gotta tell you that this so-called Brandon is a well-known crook."
Gavegan enjoyed few things more than astounding people with unpleasant
facts. "His real name is Brainard; he's done time, and now he's wanted
by the New York police for a tough job he pulled."
"I knew all that long ago," said Miss Sherwood.
"Eh--what?" stammered Gavegan.
"Mr. Brainard told me all that the first time I saw him."
"Hello, Gavegan," said Hunt, stepping forward.
"Well, I'll be--if you ain't that crazy--" Again the ability to
express himself coherently and with restraint failed Gavegan. "If you
ain't that painter that lived down at the Duchess's!"
"Right, Gavegan--as a detective always should be. And Larry Brainard
was then, and is now, my friend."
Miss Sherwood again spoke up sharply. "Mr. Gavegan--if that is your
name--you will please take those foolish things off Mr.
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