"That happens to be a large order, Muggs. If we can do those things, victory will perch on our banner."
"I didn't know Victory was a bird," said Muggs. "In pictures they always make her a woman."
"Muggs, that was a figure of speech—merely a manner of talking. Victory always perches on a banner, Muggs—don't forget it. I've read it a thousand times. Anything more to suggest?"
"You'd better go and see your girl," Muggs told him. "You ain't been to see her for almost a week, and she'll be gettin' peeved at you."
"I thought you hated the idea of me getting married."
"I do, but it can't be helped," Muggs retorted. "And she's some girl, at that. Besides, boss, if I drive you over there, and around town a bit, it is just possible that we might spot somebody who belonged to that crook's old gang."
"That's what I've been trying to do since he escaped, Muggs, and haven't had any luck," Verbeck said. "Get out the roadster."
"Roadster?"
"Yes; we shall not take Miss Wendell out with us. I'll visit her for a short time, and then we'll drive around town."
Muggs got out the car, and ten minutes later was driving Roger Verbeck across the city to the apartment house that was the home of Faustina Wendell, Verbeck's fiancée. Verbeck watched the people on the streets as they rode along, and Muggs did when it was possible, but they failed to see anybody for whom they were looking.