"Let go of my sleeve," Marc said evenly.
The hand, nevertheless, remained. "You see here, right in front of your own eyes, one of the rare, unattainable hard-to-get exotic spring tonics of the world. It lifts the spirit and opens the eyes. It ain't harmful or habit-formin'."
Marc frowned severely. "I am not, nor do I care to become, a dope addict."
"This ain't no dope, man," the little man insisted. "I told you! It gives a guy a new perspective."
"From which he can more clearly look at the photographs of naked ladies? If that's your idea of...."
Marc stopped, for his adversary, seemed suddenly to go mad. Blanching, the little man hurled himself forward, apparently out of control. Colliding with Marc, he grabbled wildly with him for a moment, then abruptly shoved himself away. For a moment Marc was completely at a loss to explain this startling performance; then he caught sight of the policeman approaching from across the street.
"Sorry, man!" the purveyor of erotics said hastily and, with that, he darted off down the street.
In almost the same instant, the policeman gained the curbing on the run. He cast Marc a swift glance but kept on rapidly down the street.
Marc watched the chase bemusedly as it continued half way up the block, then out of sight into the entrance of an alley. He hoped the little peddler would be caught; a salesman of smutty pictures only added to the loose atmosphere of the day. He turned away, heading for the office. And then he stopped.