“I know I can—but I won’t. Just go easy, Mister Bull, and don’t monkey with the works. You’re talking to a big-town boy now, and that stuff doesn’t go. And if you think you’re disguised so that I can’t spot you, think again. Those flatfoot shoes are a dead give-away, not to mention your hip-bump and your cop face.”
“Yeah? Guess you’re in the habit of watchin’ for them things, hey? And whatcha doin’ up here, my fine boid? Kind of a funny place for a big-town boy to hang out, ain’t it, huh? What was the last name you went by?”
He was moving, almost imperceptibly, to get Douglas between him and his companion. The blond man foiled the attempt by taking one swift side-step and getting his back to the open doorway.
“Don’t make a fool of yourself,” he advised wearily. “You can’t scare me that way in a year of Sundays. Just to satisfy you—though it’s none of your business—I’m Hampton, of the New York Whirl, up here on a vacation. If you get too obstreperous, Mister Man, I can give you a lovely write-up when I get back to town—that kind that may let you out of your job. Go easy.”
The other halted where he was. The name of the Whirl and the thinly veiled threat coupled with it stopped him dead; for it conjured up the vision dreaded by every officer, even though he may affect to scoff at it—the possibility of being held up to scorn in the public prints. He understood now why this fellow refused to be bulldozed, why he laughed in his face—he was “one o’ them newspaper guys,” than whom there is no more nervy and disrespectful tribe on earth; whose friendship is worth much to any police officer, and whose enmity is not to be lightly incurred. Naturally, he did not know that Hampton was no longer connected with newspaperdom.
“You on the Whoil?” he growled, a crafty light in his eyes. “Who’s city editor there now?”
“Chapman, of course. Same old grouch he always was, too.”
The other nodded grudgingly. City Editor Chapman was known far and wide in both newspaper and police circles for his uncanny news ability and his vitriolic temper. This fellow’s knowledge of Chapman and his impudent assurance carried conviction.
“All right, Hampton. Guess you’re O. K. Know this fella?” He nodded toward Uncle Eb.
“Sure. He’s as honest as they make ’em. What are you fellows in here for? Got anything good?”