"No, not at all; there are hundreds of them sold here, especially to the laborers on the water-works—the Italians and Poles," answered the Chief.
"It is a very peculiar 'S,'" said Oakes, as he folded the handkerchief and put it in his pocket, giving the cartridges to Martin. He said nothing more, but seemed serious and thoughtful, as usual. And then we set out all together on a wild drive to police headquarters.
Despite the lateness of the hour, the crowds were increasing. The square, with the hotel on one side and headquarters on the other, was the centre of a vicious body of men, pushing, struggling and forcing its way along, and pausing now and again to surge around headquarters. We could all see that Hallen was to have his hands full.
"I should like to see Skinner very much," remarked Oakes in a sarcastic vein.
"I should like to see his arms," said Moore; "they might be interesting."
Oakes looked at the speaker with one of his undefinable expressions. We could not tell whether the shot had been a true one or not.
Misadventures