He himself was none too well versed in the matter of his legal rights of intrusion.

And, for the moment, he had no chance to execute his errand.

Later, armed with a magistrate's order, he could pay back with interest his humiliation of this morning.

In the meantime-- "Gimme my gun!" he demanded in grouchy surrender.
The Master stooped; picked up the pistol, and held it in both hands.
Lad, all eagerness, stood dancingly waiting for him to throw it again.
But it was not thrown.

Instead, the Master "broke" the weapon; shaking the greasy cartridges out on to his own palm and then transferring them to his pockets.
"In case of accidents," he explained, pleasantly, as he handed the pistol back to its scowling owner.