"Hello, Carruthers!" he drawled.

"Ah, Jimmie!" Carruthers turned with an excited smile. "That's the boy!
You've made mighty quick time."

"Well, you told me to hurry," grumbled Jimmie Dale. "I'm doing my best
to please you to-night. Came down in my car, and got summoned for three
fines to-morrow."

Carruthers laughed. "Come on," he said; and, linking his arm in Jimmie
Dale's, turned the corner, and headed west along the cross street. "This
is going to make a noise," he continued, a grim note creeping into his
voice. "The biggest noise the city has ever heard. I take back all I
said about the Gray Seal. I'd always pictured his cleverness as being
inseparable with at least a decent sort of man, even if he was a rogue
and a criminal, but I'm through with that. He's a rotter and a hound
of the rankest sort! I didn't think there was anything more vulgar or
brutal than murder, but he's shown me that there is. A guttersnipe's got
more decency! To murder a man and then boastfully label the corpse is--"

"Say, Carruthers," said Jimmie Dale plaintively, suddenly hanging back,
"I say, you know, it's--it's all right for you to mess up in this sort
of thing, it's your beastly business, and I'm awfully damned thankful to
you for giving me a look-in, but isn't it--er--rather INFRA DIG for me?
A bit morbid, you know, and all that sort of thing. I'd never hear the
end of it at the club--you know what the St. James is. Couldn't I be
Merideth Stanley Annstruther, or something like that, one of your new
reporters, or something like that, you know?"