"Now, this is what you are to do," Gibson continued. "You will go with my detectives and see the whole show with your own eyes. You will be the only reporters with them. I am to meet 'Red Mike' at 7 and go with him. You can understand how essential it is that everything goes just as I planned it. If there's a slip-up anywhere it means my life. 'Red Mike' has told me that he'll kill me if he finds that he has been double-crossed. "That's all I need to tell you, I think, except that you will meet my detectives outside this building at half past seven. I'm doing this to save the lives of the passengers on the 'Lark' and to show the people of Los Angeles that the detectives of the police department, as I have charged, aren't on their jobs. It should convince them that there is something at least in what I have been saying." He glanced at his watch again. "It's half past six now," he said. "I must get out of here. 'Red Mike' is waiting for me and I can't let him become suspicious." He rose from his chair. "By the way, have you boys guns?" he asked. Brennan and John answered negatively by shaking their heads. He reached into a drawer of his desk and drew out two automatic pistols. "My detectives will carry rifles and sawed-off shotguns," he said, handing the pistols to the reporters. "You boys might as well have these." He hesitated, a half-smile on his lips. "You may need them," he added. John saw Brennan look at Gibson with what he thought was unbounded admiration. The commissioner held out his hand. "Well, Brennan," he said. "What do you think of it?" "It's a peach," Brennan said, taking Gibson's hand. "And here's luck, Mr. Commissioner. I'll hand it to you, you've got nerve." Gibson smiled again as he turned to John. "And you, Gallant?" he asked. "I hope----" he began. "I know you do," Gibson said. "Do you know why I let you and Brennan in on this?" Oddly, a thought of Consuello came into John's mind. "Well," Gibson explained, "I saw you that night you mixed it with Battling Rodriguez out at Vernon. I knew I could trust any man who took what you got and kept going until you dropped." "Thanks," John managed to say. Gibson opened the door to his outer office and caught sight of Benton, the photographer, waiting there. "What about your photographer?" he asked. "We'll take care of him," Brennan gave the assurance. "All right, see you later," said the police commissioner, going out and closing the door behind him. They heard him hurrying away. John looked at his watch. It was twenty minutes to seven. Brennan stood still, watching the door through which Gibson had gone for several minutes and then turned quickly. "Well?" he said. "What do you say?" said John. "Let's go," Brennan said snapping out his words. "We're in on something big." The photographer followed them to the elevator and down to the street where they waited for Gibson's detectives. "What's doing?" Benton asked.