The Detective snorted. “Go on,” he said with a faint frown.
“Sure it was! Well, I moves over and starts puttin’ a penny in the slot-machine outside the drug-store. The machine didn’t work very well on account of the snow. I’m a long time gettin’ my piece of chewin’-gum. I sees them talking in the drug-store. His coat is off ’cause it’s warm inside. He had an officer’s uniform on.”
“One bar or two?”
“Two bars on his shoulder, Chief.”
“Captain, then. Go on.”
“He’s a tall lad with thick lips and wide-blue eyes. He’s straight as a pike-staff and good lookin’—for a blonde.”
“Not so I could notice! Seemed to be a bit of a swell. Had gloves and a high-class wrist watch. I hate them things.”
Drew smiled. “Hurry,” he said. “Don’t take too long. What happened? What about the smoke-wagon?”
“I’m comin’ to it, Chief. They moves over to the drug-case. They chins some more. Then he blows her to a soda—a cherry sundae.”