“No,” answered Kennedy, rather piqued, “it isn’t money that I am after.  I merely wanted to be sure that you are in earnest.  I can get you past that door as if it were made of green baize.”

It was O’Connor’s turn to look incredulous, but as Kennedy apparently meant exactly what he said, he simply asked, “And will you?”

“I will do it to-night if you say so,” replied Kennedy quietly.  “Are you ready?”

For answer O’Connor simply grasped Craig’s hand, as if to seal the compact.

“All right, then,” continued Kennedy.  “Send a furniture-van, one of those closed vans that the storage warehouses use, up to my laboratory any time before seven o’clock.  How many men will you need in the raid?  Twelve?  Will a van hold that many comfortably?  I’ll want to put some apparatus in it, but that won’t take much room.”

“Why, yes, I think so,” answered O’Connor.  “I’ll get a well-padded van so that they won’t be badly jolted by the ride down-town.  By George!  Kennedy, I see you know more of that side of police strategy than I gave you credit for.”

“Then have the men drop into my laboratory singly about the same time.  You can arrange that so that it will not look suspicious, so far uptown.  It will be dark, anyhow.  Perhaps, O’Connor, you can make up as the driver yourself—­anyhow, get one you can trust absolutely.  Then have the van down near the corner of Broadway below the club, driving slowly along about the time the theatre crowd is out.  Leave the rest to me.  I will give you or the driver orders when the time comes.”

As O’Connor thanked Craig, he remarked without a shade of insincerity, “Kennedy, talk about being commissioner, you ought to be commissioner.”

“Wait till I deliver the goods,” answered Craig simply.  “I may fall down and bring you nothing but a lawsuit for damages for unlawful entry or unjust persecution, or whatever they call it.”

“I’ll take a chance at that,” called back O’Connor as he jumped into his car and directed, “Headquarters, quick.”

As the car disappeared, Kennedy filled his lungs with air as if reluctant to leave the drive.  “Our constitutional,” he remarked, “is abruptly at an end, Walter.”

Then he laughed, as he looked about him.

“What a place in which to plot a raid on Danfield’s Vesper Club!  Why, the nurse-maids have hardly got the children all in for supper and bed.  It’s incongruous.  Well, I must go over to the laboratory and get some things ready to put in that van with the men.  Meet me about half-past seven, Walter, up in the room, all togged up.  We’ll dine at the Cafe Riviera to-night in style.  And, by the way, you’re quite a man about town—­you must know someone who can introduce us into the Vesper Club.”

“But, Craig,” I demurred, “if there is any rough work as a result, it might queer me with them.  They might object to being used—­”