"Well, what's on your chest?" he grunted, not even asking her to be
seated.
It was suddenly Maggie's impulse--sprung perhaps out of unconscious
memory of what Larry had suffered--to inflict upon herself the
uttermost humiliation. So she said:
"I've come here to offer myself as a stool-pigeon."
"What's that?" Barlow exclaimed, startled. It was not often that a
swell lady--who of course couldn't be a swell (he did not know who
Maggie was)--voluntarily walked into his office with such a
proposition.
"I can give you some real information about a big game that's being
worked up. In fact, I can arrange for you to be present when the game
is pulled off, and you can make the arrests."
"Who are the people?" he asked brusquely.
Maggie knew it would be fatal to mention Barney or Old Jimmie, if that
story about Barlow's protection contained any truth. Again
inspiration, or incredibly swift thinking, came to her aid, and with
sure touch she twanged one of Barlow's rawest and most responsive
nerves.
"Larry Brainard is behind it all. He's been doing a lot of things on
the quiet these last few months. Here is where you can get his whole
crowd."
"Larry Brainard!"
Maggie did not yet know what had befallen Larry, and Gavegan had
neglected to telephone his Chief of the arrest.
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