"
"Don't see how a man can forget a whole _gang_," objected the
detective. He stared at George; frowned; produced his note-book. "Let
us have the facts, sir."
As if drawn by the glare fixed upon him, George moved from the sofa to
the table.
"Now, the facts," Mr. Brunger repeated. "Let's get these gangs settled
first."
George took a chair. He had no plan. He plunged wildly. "Gang A, gang
B, gang C, gang D--"
Mr. Brunger stopped short in the midst of his note.
"Why, that's _four_ gangs!"
The twisting of George's legs beneath the table was sympathetic with
the struggles of his bewildered mind. He said desperately, "Well,
there _are_ four gangs."
The detective threw down his pencil. "You're making a fool of me!" he
cried. "First you said two gangs, then three gangs--"
"You're making a fool of yourself," George answered hotly. "If you
knew anything about gangs you'd know they're always breaking up--
quarrelling, and then rejoining, and then splitting again. If you
can't follow, don't follow. Find the damned gangs yourself. You're a
detective--I'm not. At least you say you are. You're a precious poor
one, seems to me. You've not done much."
In his bewilderment and fear my unfortunate George had unwittingly hit
upon an admirable policy. Since first Mr.
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