He silently returned the picture, and then examined the portrait of Old Jimmie--then of Maggie--then of the Italian madonna, throned on her curbstone.

He replaced this last and crossed swiftly to Hunt.

Maggie watched this move in amazement.
Larry faced the big painter.

His figure was tense, his features hard with suspicion.

That moment one could understand why he was sometimes called "Terrible Larry"; just then he looked a devastating explosion that was still unexploded.
"What's your game down here, Hunt ?" he demanded harshly.
"My game ?" repeated the big painter.