“Yeah. In the glove compartment… Dark glasses are as near as we come to using disguises — and usually they’re all that’s necessary.”
The signal changed, and Drake eased the car into gear. “Got a description of her?” Mason asked.
“Not too much to go on,” Drake said, “just what I picked up over the telephone. The operative was calling from a cigar stand across the street from the beauty parlor. She has a swell figure, is around twenty-eight, a brunette with large, dark eyes.”
Mason frowned thoughtfully.
“Doesn’t it fit?” Drake asked.
“It depends on the eyes,” Mason said. “The girl I have in mind has dark eyes, but I wouldn’t pick them as being a particularly noticeable feature.”
“This operative is young and impressionable,” Drake said. “He made her sound like a follies’ beauty on the loose.”
He turned the car to the left, and said, “There’s the stake-out — this car right ahead. Have to hand it to that boy. He’s managed to take up two parking spaces so we can squeeze in behind.”
“That’s swell,” Mason said.
Drake pressed lightly on the horn button, and the operative looked behind, nodded, started his motor, and pulled his car forward until its bumper was touching that of the car ahead. Drake managed to work his own car into the space behind. “Want to talk with him?” he asked.