“You know where to go?” I asked him.
He nodded. “Right you are, sir. Jump in!” he said, as though I had given him an address. A moment later we were speeding away. My new life and associations had begun.
Once started, I fell to wondering again as to why I had been sent for and how I could serve the ends of the Department, for of course the Department must have some definite object in view. I pictured the interview, imagining myself in some spick and span Municipal Office temporarily placed at the disposal of this distinguished visitor from Washington, chatting with some elderly gentleman of a curt and somewhat pompous mien. I was never more mistaken in my life!
We drove for ten or fifteen minutes, in and out among the little streets of Greenwich Village. Then suddenly the taxi pulled up in front of a little hotel below Washington Square, of which I had never even heard.
As I got out, the man glanced at the meter and raised his flag. “It’s sixty cents, sir,” he said casually.
Somewhat at a loss, I handed him a dollar bill. At that he dived into his pocket, picked out a dollar in change and presented it to me with a grin. He leaned forward as he did so. “Room 333, sir,” he said softly. Then, raising his voice: “All right, sir, I’ll be here at ten!”
A moment later he and his taxi had disappeared.
I entered the hotel, walked through the lobby, nodded to the elevator-boy and told him the third floor. And presently I was knocking at the door of Room 333.
It flew open and disclosed Moore, as immaculate as ever, but with an anxious look on his face which disappeared when he saw me. He reached out and pulled me into the room, shutting and locking the door again without wasting an instant.
“Thank goodness you got here all right. I was getting nervous. Now let me introduce you to the Chief.”