The muzzle of Harris' revolver was pushed closer to Harper's face. He cringed away from it with a frightened look in his eyes.
"Don't get careless with that," he whined. "I'm not goin' to run away."
"You're right you're not. It wouldn't do you any good if you did try. Where's Brady? I'm not going to ask you many times."
"Who're you?" demanded Harper. "What right you got to ask me things like that?"
"I'm an officer from South Chicago," and Harris pulled back his coat and showed the badge pinned to his vest.
"And I," spoke up Dennison, going through the same movements, "am a Grand Haven officer. You're nigged good and plenty, my man. If you know when you're well off, you'll help rather than hinder this game we're playing."
Harper cast an appealing look at Ochiltree. The latter met the look savagely.
"What ye lookin' at me fer?" he snapped. "I don't know you—never seen ye before in my life. Ye can see what trouble ye've got me in by comin' here. Take him away an' jug him," Ochiltree added, turning to Harris. "He's nothin' ter me, an' I'd like ter have ye git him out o' this house as soon as ye kin."
"We'll jug the two of you, Ochiltree," answered Dennison grimly, "until we find out just where you stand in this business."
Ochiltree relapsed into his chair with a black scowl. This byplay between Ochiltree and the officer did not serve to make Harper any more easy in his mind.