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 —the court was above a station—swung open and a stream of detectives and uniformed officers streamed out and bore down on Tony's men.

“Hell!” gritted Tony, who had remained sitting beside the chauffeur in one of the cars. “The cops have seen ’em. Step on it!”

The big car roared into life and swerved around the corner, but not before two shots had rung out in the street and two bullets had thudded against the rear of the machine.

“Stop!” commanded Tony, and the car ground to a halt. Close as they were to the station, they were out of sight of it. “Gimme your gat!”

The chauffeur quickly handed over his revolver and Tony calmly dropped it down a convenient open sewer. He tossed his own heavy automatic after it then removed his small vest-pocket auto­ matic from its customary position and shoved it down inside of one sock. When two detectives came puffing around the corner with ready revolvers—he knew they would—he was standing calmly beside the car.

“Did you want to talk to me?” he demanded with a frown.

“I'll say so,” panted one. “It's lucky Lieutenant Grady looked out the window and recognized some