"Not for the reason why you picked it! Not to wear it up into that hall, my bucko boy!"
When the man expostulated with oaths, Lanigan tripped him and held him on the sidewalk. "Hush your yawp! You can't fool me about your taste in ties! I know what's behind that color like I'd know what's behind an Orangeman's yellow! I don't need to wait for him to hooray for the battle o' the Boyne ere I get my brick ready! Peter, frisk his pockets!"
Demeter obeyed.
A crowd was collecting. Through the press rushed a young man. "Need help,
Commander?"
"Only keep your eye peeled to see that another Bullshevist don't sneak up and kick me from behind, after the like o' the breed!"
Demeter's exploration produced a bulldog revolver, a slungshot, a packet of pamphlets, and several small red flags.
"What's your name?" demanded the commander.
"No business of yours!"
Lanigan kneeled on the captive and roweled cruel thumbs into the man's neck. "Out with it before I dig deeper for it."
"Nicolai Krylovensky!"