"Oh!" she exclaimed desperately and keeled backward. Baxter's calculations were close, for he caught her in his arms.
"Quick! Quick!" he cried to the big uniformed carriage attendant at the door. "Get me a taxicab. My sister has fainted."
The man whistled for a machine, as Burke watched them. The officer was calculating his own chances on what baseball players call a "double play." Craig was close behind Baxter, in the curious crowd. Burke guessed that it would take at least a minute or two for Baxter to get the girl into a machine. So he rushed for Craig and surprised that young gentleman with a vicious grasp of the throat.
"Help! Police!" cried Craig, as some women screamed. His wish was doubly answered, for Burke's police whistle was in his mouth and he blew it shrilly. A traffic squad man rushed across from the middle of the street.
"Hurry, I want to get my sister away!" ordered Baxter excitedly to the door man. "You big boob, what's the matter with you?"
The crowd of people about him shut off the view of Burke's activities fifteen feet away. Baxter was nervous and was doing his best to make a quick exit with his victim.
"What's this?" gruffly exclaimed the big traffic policeman, as he caught Craig's arm.
"The needle!" grunted Burke. "Here, I've got it from his pocket."
He drew forth a small hypodermic needle syringe from Craig's coat pocket, and held it up.
"It's a frame-up!" squealed Craig.