"Oh, no, Birdie, you naughty, wicked man!" he said genially, "I won't believe you've degenerated that much. Not when you see as much of Snooper as you do. What does the Good Book say? 'Snooper finds some mischief still for Birdie Sands to do.' Birdie, go home!" "As a lore-abiding citizen an' a man of edjucation," Birdie began haughtily--but Teal was in no mood for wasting time. He signed to one of the "connosewers" who was loafing near by, and a protesting Birdie was taken gently but firmly by the arm and conducted towards the open air. Following which Teal, with intent to continue his clean-up, looked around him for a fresh victim. He never accomplished his ambition. Startlingly loud above the hushed whispering of the crowd a voice rang out in a curt command: "Everybody will now stand perfectly still and keep silence!" Teal swung round, his hand moving instinctively to his hip. It stayed abruptly, for he saw the means there were for enforcing the order. At one end of the room stood six men, in line, their right hands held high above their heads. And in every one of those hands was something round and black and shining. "Shades of Mills!" breathed Teal. The leader spoke again: "These are Mills bombs. The pins are out, and at the first sign of resistance they will be thrown. Also, if any one of us is shot, his bomb will, of course, explode when he falls. Please be sensible. We do not wish to shed blood unnecessarily." The detectives, uncertain, looked to Storm for their cue. He only hesitated for a second, and then he gave them their instructions in a clear voice. "You will all obey that order. Carry on, Gat!" Three of the men handed their bombs to their companions and moved towards the glass cases. The other three, now holding a bomb in each hand, stood motionless. "Everybody will now move down to the far end of the room," said Gat Morini. "The officers of the law, except Mr. Teal and Captain Arden, will be at the back of the crowd. If a bomb has to be thrown, I should dislike having to hurt any policemen or any of my assistants." Storm, standing well to the front, was coolly lighting a cigarette. That amazing young man was smiling, and the hand that held the match was coldly steady as an iceberg. He looked at Teal, and found that the detective was flushed and shaking with rage. Teal's vanity was an unsuspected tender spot, and there was no doubt that the barefaced effrontery of the gang in so holding up a squad of detectives was likely to strike him with apoplexy. "Can't anything be done, sir?" he pleaded unsteadily. "There's about thirty armed men behind us, and we're helpless!" "And there's about sixty civilians, male and female," Storm told him, "who'll get where the bottle got the cork if we start any funny stuff and bombs go flying about! And they will throw 'em--you can invest your hosiery in that!" Teal shook his head despondently.