From behind him somewhere in Wildwood Zoo, a sharp cry of alarm went up. His theft had been detected. In five minutes the roads to town would be blocked by police patrols.
Jim's forehead wrinkled into tight furrows. The coupe was doing eighty-five. With one hand he reached down and petted the fox's smooth head.
"You snap at me," he warned, "and I'll send you back to your cage."
A warm tongue touched his hand softly.
The police sirens were dying now, and he breathed with relief as they passed the city limits and swept into heavy traffic. Slowing down a little, his forehead smoothed out and a sly smile swept across his face. Fifteen minutes later Drake eased the car into the alley behind the apartment hotel.
There was no one on duty at the freight elevator. With the silver fox in his arms Drake made a hurried entrance and shortly they reached the private floor of his apartment. He placed the animal carefully on the floor and with his key opened the door.
Puffy Adams was stretched across the bed. His eyes opened with a jerk at the sight of Jim's passenger, and he drew himself toward the safety of the far end of the bed.
"Well," Puffy said hesitantly. "If you go for this kind 'a thing it's okay with me. Just keep that four-legged Dracula away from me. No more blood-letting this week, please."
Jim ignored him. He locked the door swiftly and turned on the fox.
"You can come out now," he said. "It's safe here."