"Thanks very much, my friend," and the face unsnarled itself,
into the amiable lines of the normal. The voice was agreeable
and smooth, which surprised the man the more. "You took me out
of a ticklish situation tonight. I don't want any mere policemen
to spoil my little game. Please oil up your forgettery with
these, and then--forget!"

"Say, gov'nor," retorted the driver, as he put the money into the
band of his leather cap. "I ain't seen so much real change since
my boss got stung on the war. I ain't so certain but what you
was the gink robbin' that house, at that. But that's them guys
funeral if you beat 'em to it. Good-night--much obliged. But I
got to slip it to you, gov'nor--you ain't none of them Central
Office flat-feet, sure 'nuff! If you are a detective, you're
some fly cop!"




CHAPTER IV

A SCIENTIFIC NOVELTY


In a private ward room at Bellevue Hospital, Captain Cronin was
just returning to memory of himself and things that had been.
Shirley arrived at his cot-side as he was being propped up more
comfortably. The older man's face broke into game smiles, as the
criminologist took the chair provided by the pretty nurse.