The old policeman who guards the entrance--a landmark he is in that place where men come and go so quickly--stepped in front of them, saying that visitors were not allowed on the floor. But they jerked their coats open impatiently so that he could see the stars that were pinned inside them, and then walked briskly over to the provision pit. They climbed the pair of steps outside the circle, and one waited on the rim, while the other wriggled his way through the dense press of men down toward the centre. He laid his hand on the Bear’s wide shoulder. “You’re Melville Sponley, aren’t you?” The Bear was making an entry on his card, and he paid no heed. The hand gripped his shoulder more tightly. “Isn’t your name Melville Sponley?” “That’s it,” he answered shortly, and he raised his hand to make another sale. Then, in a flash, for even John Bagsbury was a very little slower than he, the Bear knew what it meant. He wheeled suddenly upon his interrogator, and he did not need the glimpse he caught of the point of a star beneath the coat to convince him that he had comprehended aright. He spoke directly into the man’s ear and so rapidly that the words blurred together. But the man understood. “Do you want to earn a thousand dollars in the next five minutes? Stand where you are and don’t speak to me or interfere with me till then. That’s all you’ll have to do.” He turned back toward Keyes and started to raise his arm, but again the detaining hand came down upon his shoulder. “Do you want five?” he snapped. It might have saved him. If John Bagsbury had not been waiting for them over across the hall, it would in all probability have saved him. The detectives had known John less than half an hour, but in that time one can sometimes learn something of a man’s essential characteristics. The detective turned away uneasily and called to his fellow, “Come down here, Ryan.” Until that moment the pit had been a scene of tumult; in other words, its yelling, frenzied, chaotic self. But at that call the tempest died away into a mere buzzing curiosity. The men who a moment before had been oblivious to all save the price of lard, were now wondering what the man called Ryan was going to do, and they stood aside to make way for him. They would only have had to crowd a bit close and perhaps indulge in a little harmless rushing to give Sponley the three or four minutes he needed to win his fight, but no one began it. Friends and enemies simply stood by and watched Ryan join his fellow close beside Sponley. “You’ll have to come along with us,” said the one who had first accosted him. “You’re wanted for assault and battery.” “Assault and battery!” echoed the Bear, looking at the two men in genuine surprise. “You’ve got the wrong man.” He shook himself free and turned again upon Keyes, but in a second the detectives had his elbows pinned at his sides and were forcing him backward toward the rim of the pit. “Show me your warrant.”