"Yes, I can," says the inscrutable Lee.
"Let me have it, to-morrow morning. Not a word to Hardin."
"All right, Colonel Joe," is the answer of silent Lee.
Joseph chokes down his feelings, orders a fresh bottle of wine, some cigars, and calls for pen and ink.
While the waiter uncorks the wine, Joe says: "What do you pay for your clothes, Lee?"
"Oh, a hundred and fifty will do," is the modest answer. "That carries an overcoat."
Joe laughs as he beautifies a blank check with his order to himself, to pay to himself, five thousand one hundred and fifty dollars, and neatly indorses it, "Joseph Woods." "I guess that's the caper, Captain," he says. This "little formality" over, the wine goes to the right place THIS TIME.
"Now I don't want to see you any more till I get your reminiscences of that lady," remarks Joe, reaching for his gold-headed club.
"On time, ten o'clock," is the response of the police captain.
"Have you seen her since, Joe? She was a high stepper," muses the Captain. He has been a great connoisseur of loveliness. Many fair ones have passed under his hands in public duty or private seance.