"Because they know very well I take care never to part with the last
handful of my wares. I've it always by me." He touched the breast of
his coat lightly. "In a thick glass flask," he added.

"So I have been told," said Ossipon, with a shade of wonder in his voice.
"But I didn't know if--"

"They know," interrupted the little man crisply, leaning against the
straight chair back, which rose higher than his fragile head. "I shall
never be arrested. The game isn't good enough for any policeman of them
all. To deal with a man like me you require sheer, naked, inglorious
heroism." Again his lips closed with a self-confident snap. Ossipon
repressed a movement of impatience.

"Or recklessness--or simply ignorance," he retorted. "They've only to
get somebody for the job who does not know you carry enough stuff in your
pocket to blow yourself and everything within sixty yards of you to
pieces."

"I never affirmed I could not be eliminated," rejoined the other. "But
that wouldn't be an arrest. Moreover, it's not so easy as it looks."

"Bah!" Ossipon contradicted. "Don't be too sure of that. What's to
prevent half-a-dozen of them jumping upon you from behind in the street?
With your arms pinned to your sides you could do nothing--could you?"

"Yes; I could. I am seldom out in the streets after dark," said the
little man impassively, "and never very late. I walk always with my
right hand closed round the india-rubber ball which I have in my trouser
pocket. The pressing of this ball actuates a detonator inside the flask