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 Tony stiffened and sat up straight, his eyes blaz­ing as he stared at the crowd of officers. Who had squealed?

"Take it easy, Tony," growled Flanagan warningly, sensing the gang leader's sudden arousal. "You're comin' to the D.A.'s office with us. Stick out your mitts!"

There was a metallic rattle as another detective stepped forward with a pair of handcuffs. Tony stared at them. Then an expression of disgust crossed his face and he looked up at Flanagan again with his usual defiant pride flooding back into his face and manner.

"You don't need no bracelets for me!" he snapped. "I'm no cheap second-story man. I'll go with you, anywhere you want to take me, but I'm goin' to call a mouthpiece to come down and see that I get my rights."

He reached for the telephone but one of the of­ficers snatched it away from him. Half a dozen others closed in on him, their attitude obviously menacing. And Flanagan had lifted the muzzle of his revolver until it pointed at Tony's chest.

"Oh, you're goin', all right! " said the burly chief of detectives, seeming oddly elated. "And you're goin' to wear the bracelets. We ain't takin' no