Guy Garrick HTML version

9. The Raid
Garrick was evidently turning over and over in his mind some plan of action.
"This thing has gone just about far enough," he remarked meditatively, looking at
his watch. It was now well along in the afternoon.
"But what do you intend doing?" I asked, regarding the whole affair so far as a
hopeless mystery from which I could not see that we had extracted so much as a
promising clew.
"Doing?" he echoed. "Why, there is only one thing to do, and that is to take the
bull by the horns, to play the game without any further attempt at finessing. I shall
see Dillon, get a warrant, and raid that gambling place--that's all."
I had no counter suggestion to offer. In fact the plan rather appealed to me. If any
blow were to be struck it must be just a little bit ahead of any that the gamblers
anticipated, and this was a blow they would not expect if they already had wind of
Warrington's intention to cancel the lease.
Garrick called up Dillon and made an appointment to meet him early in the
evening, without telling him what was afoot.
"Meet me down at police headquarters, Tom," was all that Garrick said to me. "I
want to work here at the office for a little while, first, testing a new contrivance, or,
rather, an old one that I think may be put to a new use."
Meanwhile I decided to employ my time by visiting some newspaper friends that I
had known a long time on the Star, one of the most enterprising papers in the
city. Fortunately I found my friend, Davenport, the managing editor, at his desk
and ready to talk in the infrequent lulls that came in his work.