"Honest to Gawd, I don't know nothin' about it!"
The Inspector's fist shot out toward Chicago Red's jaw. The
impact was enough. The thief went to his knees under the blow.
"Now, get up--and talk!" Burke's voice came with unrepentant
noisiness against the stricken man.
Cringingly, Chicago Red, who so gloried in his strength, yet was
now altogether humble in this precarious case, obeyed as far as
the getting to his feet was concerned.... It never occurred to
him even that he should carry his obedience to the point of
"squealing on a pal!" Had the circumstances been different, he
might have refused to accept the Inspector's blow with such
meekness, since above all things he loved a bit of bodily strife
with some one near his own strength, and the Inspector was of a
sort to offer him a battle worth while.
So, now, while he got slowly to his feet, he took care to keep at
a respectful distance from the official, though his big hands
fairly ached to double into fists for blows with this man who had
so maltreated him.
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