“Inspector,” said Elk. “No, I’d rather stand, mister. Stand and grow good, eh? Yes, I’m Inspector. I don’t realize it myself sometimes, especially when the men salute me—forget to salute ’em back. Now, in America I believe patrol men salute sergeants. That’s as it should be.”
His sad eyes moved from one to the other.
“I suppose your promotion has made a lot of crooks very scared, Elk?” sneered Ray.
“Why, yes. I believe it has. Especially the amatchoors,” said Elk. “The crooks that are only fly-nuts. The fancy crooks, who think they know it all, and will go on thinking so till one day somebody says, ‘Get your hat—the chief wants you!’ Otherwise,” confessed Elk modestly, “the news has created no sensation, and London is just as full as ever of tale-pitchers who’ll let you distribute their money amongst the poor if you’ll only loan ’em a hundred to prove your confidence. And,” Elk continued after a moment’s cogitation, “there’s nearly as many dud prize-fighters living on blackmail an’ robbery, an’ almost as many beautiful young ladies running faro parlours and dance emporiums.”
Ray’s face went a dull red, and if looks could blast, Inspector Elk’s friends would have been speaking of him in hushed tones.
Only then did he turn his attention to Dick Gordon.
“I was wondering, Captain, if I could have a day off next week—I’ve a little family trouble.”
Dick, who did not even know that his friend had a family was startled.
“I’m sorry to hear that, Elk,” he said sympathetically.
Elk sighed.