“I have been told on what job you were sent out this morning, also that you were detained by a policeman who----” “That’s wrong, sir,” McLauren said quickly. “I may have said a policeman, sir, not thinking, but he was a plain-clothes man who stopped me.” “One you knew by sight?” “No, sir. But he showed me his detective badge and----” “I understand,” Nick interrupted. “Where did he stop you?” “In Forty-eighth Street, sir, when I was driving through from Second Avenue. He held me up and made me pull off to one side of the street, and then he began to question me, as much as saying that I was a crook he was looking for. I tried to convince him he was wrong, but the infernal bonehead wouldn’t have it, and he threatened to take me down to headquarters, team and all, unless I answered his questions. He hung me up there for near half an hour, sir, until I got hot around my collar and told him he’d better pull a gink who went by just then, instead of me.” “Some one you knew?” questioned Nick. “I know him by sight, sir, that’s all.” “Why didn’t you appeal to him, then, and have him vouch for you?” “I’d have got fat, sir, doing that,” said McLauren, with an expressive grin. “Surest thing you know, in that case, the dick would have collared me.” “You mean that the man who went by is a crook?” “I reckon so, though I couldn’t swear to it,” said McLauren. “But he’s a gangman, all right, and I’ve heard he’s a gunman, as well. I only know him by sight, sir.” “Do you know his name?” “I do.” “What is it?” “Tim Bannon, sir, though he’s better known as Bug Bannon, being a small, bow-legged chap with a head like a bullet.” “Humph!” grunted Nick, who knew all about the young gangster. “Did he say anything, or look at the man who had stopped you?” “He did not. He was whistling and on the other side of the street.” “How much longer were you detained, McLauren?” “Only a couple of minutes, sir. The dick seemed to see he was in wrong and he let me go.” “Describe him,” said Nick. “He looked all right, sir, as far as that goes,” said the truckman. “He’s a medium-built man, kind of pale, but with dark hair and a beard. He----” “That’s all, McLauren,” Nick interrupted. “Send in Frank Gilbert when you go out. Wait until I have finished with him and I will give you further instructions.” “I hope you don’t think, sir, that I----” “I know that you had no hand in the robbery,” Nick again cut in, anticipating what the other was about to say. “Do what I have directed and say nothing about my inquiries.” “I will not, sir,” McLauren assured him, with a look of relief as he turned and left the room. “By Jove, this looks as if----” Chick began. He quickly checked himself, however, when the chauffeur, who had been waiting in the hall, entered and closed the door. He was a tall, clean-cut man in the twenties, with a frank face and clear blue eyes, that met with convincing gaze the somewhat searching scrutiny of the detective.