I opened the car, got out.
“Hey,” he went on, leaning out of the car. “Suppose they recognize you in the jail? What happens then?”
“Let’s wait and see,” I said. “You stay with the heep. Tim and I’ll handle this. If a copper shows, sound your horn and beat it. We don’t want them to get a line on you just yet.”
He wrinkled his fat nose. “We don’t want them ever to get a line on me,” he pointed out. “Well, go ahead, I’ll sit here and pray. I’m good at that.”
Tim and I went to the side door near the display window. I rang the bell. We waited.
There was a short delay, then we heard someone coming along the passage. The door opened and a thin, narrow-shouldered girl stood in the doorway.
I tipped my hat.
“I wanted to see Mr. Maxison,” I said.
She stared at me, then at Tim. “It’s very late,” she said. “Couldn’t you see him tomorrow?”
“Well, no,” I said. “It’s something I would like him to handle and it’s urgent.”