“Give me a hand,” I urged, when he stopped laughing to mop his eyes, and I shoved the dummy into his arms. “Will you put her in the taxi? If the driver sees this without the law around he’ll think I’m kidnapping someone. And listen, don’t let your lack of chivalry take advantage of a lady who can’t protect herself.”
That set him off again. He gathered the dummy up in his arms. “Do you waltz, madam?” he asked, and then locking at me he said, “Her breath smelts of Scotch.”
“What of It?” I demanded, “you’d smell of something too it you were as stiff as she is.”
“Yeah,” he said, “I hadn’t thought of that,” and he staggered out into the Street, snorting with mirth.
I grabbed Lydia, who stirred as I picked her up. I felt the sweat running down my back, but I had to go through with it. Moving fast, I joined the patrolman by the taxi.
At that second, the copper drifted up and stood looking at us with a disapproving eye.
“What goes on?” he demanded, staring at the two shrouded figures and then at the patrolman.
“Well, if it ain’t O’Hara,” the patrolman said, losing his good humoured expression. “Holy Moses! Don’t I ever get any privacy on my beat?”
“I’m on a special job,” O’Hara said. “What have you got there?”
“You look after your special job,” the patrolman said shortly. “I’m just helping this guy kidnap a couple of dames,” and he began laughing again.