“The smallest I’ve got is a century and I really need some of that.”
“That’s aisy,” rejoined Gladwin. “Sure’n I change hundred dollar bills ivry day. Slip me the paper an’ here’s a fifty, which is lettin’ ye off aisy, seein’ ye’re an ould offinder.”
The transfer of bills was made swiftly, whereupon Gladwin commanded:
“Now run me back to me peg post an’ drop me off, on’y take it slow an’ gradual or I might have to pinch yez again.”
A few minutes later Gladwin heard the young girl say passionately:
“Oh, Johnny, how could you give him the money? He’s no better than a thief. I hope you’ve taken his number.”
“It wouldn’t do any good, dearest,” said Johnny, sadly. “They’re all in together and I’d only get the worst of it. But did you notice, Phyllis, that he looks a lot like Travers Gladwin?”
“Impossible!” retorted the girl. “Travers Gladwin is good looking, and this man’s nothing but an Irish monster.”
The girl was about to speak again when she was sure she heard muffled laughter behind her. Then the car sped on into the avenue and just missed colliding 141 with a Fifth avenue motor ’bus. Officer 666 was put down a block from his own home and resumed the patrolling of the immediate precincts of the Gladwin mansion. His only parting salute from Johnny Parkinson’s car was a flashing glance of contempt from the girl, whose identity he strove in vain to place.