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The Kid’s eye caught sight of a window that was lighted and gorgeous with nature’s most entrancing colors. The light suddenly went out. The Kid sprinted and caught the fruiterer locking his door.

“Peaches?” said he, with extreme deliberation.

“Well, no, Sir. Not for three or four weeks yet. I haven’t any idea where you might find some. There may be a few in town from under the glass, but they’d be hard to locate. Maybe at one of the more expensive hotels–some place where there’s plenty of money to waste. I’ve got some very fine oranges, though–from a shipload that came in to-day.”

The Kid lingered on the corner for a moment, and then set out briskly toward a pair of green lights that flanked the steps of a building down a dark side street.

“Captain around anywhere?” he asked of the desk sergeant of the police station.

At that moment the captain came briskly forward from the rear. He was in plain clothes and had a busy air.

“Hello, Kid,” he said to the pugilist. “Thought you were bridal-touring?

“Got back yesterday. I’m a solid citizen now. Think I’ll take an interest in municipal doings. How would it suit you to get into Denver Dick’s place to-night, Cap?

“Past performances,” said the captain, twisting his moustache. “Denver was closed up two months ago.”

“Correct,” said the Kid. “Rafferty chased him out of the Forty-third. He’s running in your precinct now, and his game’s bigger than ever. I’m down on this gambling business. I can put you against his game.”

“In my precinct?” growled the captain. “Are you sure, Kid? I’ll take it as a favor. Have you got the entree? How is it to be done?”

“Hammers,” said the Kid. “They haven’t got any steel on the doors yet. You’ll need ten men. No, they won’t let me in the place. Denver has been trying to do me. He thought I tipped him off for the other raid. I didn’t, though. You want to hurry. I’ve got to get back home. The house is only three blocks from here.”

Before ten minutes had sped the captain with a dozen men stole with their guide into the hallway of a dark and virtuous-looking building in which many businesses were conducted by day.

“Third floor, rear,” said the Kid, softly. “I’ll lead the way.”

Two axemen faced the door that he pointed out to them.

“It seems all quiet,” said the captain, doubtfully. “Are you sure your tip is straight?”

“Cut away!” said the Kid. “It’s on me if it ain’t.”

The axes crashed through the as yet unprotected door. A blaze of light from within poured through the smashed panels. The door fell, and the raiders sprang into the room with their guns handy.

The big room was furnished with the gaudy magnificence dear to Denver Dick’s western ideas. Various well-patronized games were in progress. About fifty men who were in the room rushed upon the police in a grand break for personal liberty. The plain-clothes men had to do a little club-swinging. More than half the patrons escaped.

Denver Dick had graced his game with his own presence that night. He led the rush that was intended to sweep away the smaller body of raiders, But when he saw the Kid his manner became personal. Being in the heavyweight class he cast himself joyfully upon his slighter enemy, and they rolled down a flight of stairs in each other’s arms. On the landing they separated and arose, and then the Kid was able to use some of his professional tactics, which had been useless to him while in the excited clutch of a 200-pound sporting gentleman who was about to lose $20,000 worth of paraphernalia.

After vanquishing his adversary the Kid hurried upstairs and through the gambling-room into a smaller apartment connecting by an arched doorway.

Here was a long table set with choicest chinaware and silver, and lavishly furnished with food of that expensive and spectacular sort of which the devotees of sport are supposed to be fond. Here again was to be perceived the liberal and florid taste of the gentleman with the urban cognomenal prefix.