"I'll allow you only one," said the waster judicially as the car moved off. "I know where the chap makes them perfectly—brings a mummy back to life—"
"A mum—what mummy?" asked Bean dreamily.
"Your own, if you had one, you silly juggins!"
Bean winced, but made no reply.
The car halted before an uptown hotel.
"Come on!" said the waster.
"Bring it out," suggested Bean, devising flight.
The waster prepared to use force.
"Quit. I'll go," said Bean.
He was before a polished bar, the white-jacketed attendant of which not only recognized the waster but seemed to divine his errand.