The dick stopped five feet from Shayne and looked him over coldly. He unbuttoned his double-breasted coat and opened it to give the redhead a flash of his city badge. “Better not start anything in here, bud.”
Shayne laughed shortly. “Did Denton send you?”
The dick jerked his thumb back over his shoulder and said, “Beat it.”
Shayne hunched his shoulders and turned back to Bart. “I’m headed this way.”
“That’s private,” Bart said. “’Less you got a special card.”
Shayne took a step forward.
The burly man stepped back and said, “Okay, buddy,” in a resigned tone.
The dick came up behind him swiftly as he reached for the doorknob. He felt the muzzle of a gun boring into his left side. The dick said, “You better not—”
Shayne whirled and knocked the gun down with his left forearm while his right fist made a short arc to the dick’s jaw. As the man went down, pain struck savagely at the base of Shayne’s right ear. His knees gave way, and the bottom fell out of the world.