"Come where ?" "Headquarters." "I haven't done a thing, Gavegan, and you know it! What do you want me for ?" "Me and the Chief had a little talk about you," leered Gavegan.

"And now the Chief wants to have a little personal talk with you.

He asked me to round you up and bring you in." "I've done nothing, and I'll not go!" Larry cried hotly.
"Oh, yes, you will!" Gavegan withdrew his right hand from his coat pocket where it had been resting in readiness.

In the hand, its thong about his wrist, was a short leather-covered object filled with lead.
"I've got my orders, and you'll come peaceably, or--But I'd just as soon you'd resist, for I owe you something for the punch you slipped over on me the other night." Larry, taut with the desire to strike, gazed for a moment into the glowering face of the detective.

Gavegan, gripping his right arm, with that bone-crushing slug-shot itching for instant use, was apparently master in the present circumstances.