“How do you come to be here with Maggie?” he demanded abruptly.
“Happened to catch sight of her on the street to-day. Trailed her here to the Grantham, and to-night I just dropped in.”
Barney's tone grew more authoritative, more ugly. “We told you long ago we were through with you. So why did you come here?”
“That's easy answered, Barney. The last time we were all together, you'd come to take Maggie away. This is that same scene reproduced—only this time I've come to take Maggie away.”
“What's that?” snapped Barney.
Larry's voice threw off its assumed geniality, and became drivingly hard. “And to get Maggie to come, I've been telling her the kind of a bird you are, Barney Palmer! Oh, I've got the straight dope on you! I've been telling her how you framed me, and were able to frame me because you are Chief Barlow's stool.”
Barney went as near white as it was possible for him to become, and his mouth sagged. “What—what—” he stammered.
“I've been telling her that you are the one who really squealed on Red Hannigan and Jack Rosenfeldt.”
“You're a damned liar!” Barney burst out, and instantly from beneath his left arm he whipped an automatic which he thrust against Larry's stomach. “Take that back, damn you, or I'll blow you straight to hell!”
“Barney!—Larry!” interjected Maggie in sickened fright.