"It's a life appointment, Bucky."
"Really—bless me—then your bloomin' government has some sense after all."
The two men saluted gravely, with a parting exchange.
"Now, Bub—keep fit."
"Same to you, Bucky."
[a/]
IV
The view of Greenfield sauntering lightly away among the noisy tables, bravado in his manner, deviltry in his heart, was the last glimpse Inspector Frawley was destined to have of him in many months. True, Greenfield had not lied: the address was genuine, but the man was gone. For days Frawley had the city scoured without gaining a clue. No steamer had left the harbor, not even a tramp. If Greenfield was not in hiding, he must have buried himself in the interior.
It was a week before Frawley found the track. Greenfield had walked thirty miles into the country and taken the train for Rio Mendoza on the route across the Andes to Valparaiso.