Barlow came promptly at half-past eight. He brought news which for a
few moments almost completely upset Maggie's delicately balanced
structure.
"I know who you are now," he said brusquely. "And part of your game's
cold before you start."
"Why?--What part?"
"Just after you left Headquarters Officer Gavegan showed up. He had
this Larry Brainard in tow--had pinched him out on Long Island."
This announcement staggered Maggie; for the moment made all her
strenuous planning seem to have lost its purpose. In her normal
condition she might either have given up or betrayed her real intent.
But just now, in her super-excited state, in which she felt she was
fighting desperately for others, she was acting far above her ordinary
capacity; and she was making decisions so swift that they hardly
seemed to proceed from conscious thought. So Barlow, vigilant watcher
of faces that he was, saw nothing unusual in her expression or manner.
"What did you do with him?" she asked.
"Left him with Gavegan--and with Casey, who had just come in. Trailing
with Brainard was a swell named Hunt, cussing mad. He was snorting
around about being pals with most of the magistrates, and swore he'd
have Brainard out on bail inside an hour. But what he does don't make
any difference to me.
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