CHAPTER X.
TIP SCAMMON TALKS---BUT NOT ENOUGH If that ugly blow hadn't proved a glancing one, Dick Prescott might have been for a long siege of brain fever.
As it was, he was slightly stunned for the moment.
By the time he could leap up and look about him, rather dizzily, his late assailant had made a clean escape.
"No time to waste on a fellow who's got away," quoth Dick.
He staggered slightly, at first, as he hurried from the yard back into the alleyway.
"Now, you quiet down!" commanded Dave Darrin hoarsely.

"No more from you, Mr.Thug!" "Lemme go, or it'll be worse for ye!" threatened a harsh voice that, nevertheless, had a whine in it.
"What use to let you go, Tip Scammon ?" demanded Darrin.

"We know you, and the police would pick you up again in an hour." "Lemme go, and keep yer mouth shut," whined the fellow.

"If ye don't, ye'll be sorry.

If ye _do_ lemme go, I'll pay ye for the accommodation." "Yes," retorted Dave, scornfully.