[CHAPTER XVIII]
LEONARD COMES TO THE PARTY
On Market street Slim led the way into a drug store and slipped onto a stool in front of the white marble counter where two aproned youths were dispensing drinks. “We’ve got to cook up some scheme,” he said, “and we might as well be comfortable while we’re at it. What’s yours?”
“Mine’s a good dinner,” answered Leonard wistfully.
“You’re in the wrong shop, General, but you can have a sandwich if you say the word.”
Leonard looked longingly at the two tiers of sandwiches under the glass cover nearby. “You?” he asked.
Slim shook his head sternly. “No, sir, I’m going to dine at Kingman’s in about ten minutes.”
Leonard sighed and mentioned his choice of a beverage. The renunciation was difficult. When their glasses were in front of them Slim lifted his gravely. “Here’s luck,” he said.
“Success to our scheme,” replied Leonard, and drank deeply. The concoction tasted good and he imbibed again and felt better. He glanced at Slim. Slim was staring hard at the counter and absently tracing a design on its smooth surface. The clock at the end of the store, above the prescription counter, proclaimed three minutes past seven. Leonard looked out through the big glass window and sought inspiration. The sidewalks were well thronged, for the evening was mild for November. A big yellow trolley car passed with a strident clanging of its gong. Automobiles went by honking warningly to the rash pedestrians who sought to find their way across the street. A smart looking policeman, his fingers crooked in his belt, paused momentarily to view the contents of the window and then continued on his beat. Leonard had found his inspiration.
“Slim, look here,” he exclaimed. “Why can’t we get a cop to put us through that mob back there? I just saw one go by. If we told him how it was—”