Anisty stuffed something bulky back into his pocket and wadded another
something--green and yellow colored--into a little pill, which he presently
flicked carelessly across the table. The detective's large mottled paw
closed over it and moved toward his waistcoat.

"As I was sayin'," he resumed, "I'm sorry yeh don't see yer way to givin'
us a hand. But p'rhaps yeh're right. Still, if the citizens'd only give us
a hand onct in a while----"

"Ah, but what gives you your living, Hickey?" argued the amateur sophist.
"What but the activities of the criminal element? If society combined with
you for the elimination of crime, what would become of your job?"

He rose and wrung the disconsolate one warmly by the hand. "But there, I am
sorry I have to hurry you away.... Now that you know where to find me, drop
in some evening and have a cigar and a chat. I'm in town a good deal, off
and on, and always glad to see a friend."

At another time, and with another man, Anisty would not have ventured to
play his catch so roughly; but, as he had reckoned, the comfortable state
of mind induced by an unexpected addition to his income and a quart of
champagne, had dulled the official apprehensions of Sergeant Hickey.

Mumbling a vague acceptance of the too-genial invitation, the exalted
detective rose and ambled cheerfully down the room and out of the door.

Anisty lit another cigarette and contemplated the future with satisfaction.
As a diplomat he was inclined to hold himself a success. Indeed, all things
taken under mature consideration, the conclusion was inevitable that he was