She glanced up at him, but made no answer. White of face from the strain of the ordeal through which she had just passed, she piloted him toward headquarters, four blocks distant.
Gradually the radio cop recovered his wits. “Sister, I don’t mean to be too curious,” he apologized, “but there’s a little too much static in the old dome for me to get this thing right. How’d you happen to step in there when you did? Were you wise to them? And why didn’t that guy shoot?”
Still no answer, only a pleading look from the hazel eyes. Then swiftly she turned and hurried away.
“Hold on,” called Cates, concerned. “I haven’t learned a thing yet. Here, wait a minute, sister!”
But she did not heed. For a moment he was tempted to overtake her and demand an explanation, then decided against it. Whoever she was, she had known there would be an attempt on his life.
But why should she run a risk in saving him? The question fairly shouted for an answer, but gratitude would not allow him to ask what she very evidently did not want to answer.
There were other things, too. Officer Cates became aware that his heart was beating at twice its usual tempo. Faint perfume still trailed about him, and there was a cool fragrance on his lips that had never been there before.
“Right on the old pan, she kissed me,” Cates murmured in awed tones. “Right on the old pan, and I let her get away without even finding out her name. Well, what do you know?”
For such was the make-up of the stocky announcer that the kiss of an unknown girl could concern him more than the threat of a gunman. Sighing profoundly, his alert eyes dreamy, he proceeded on to headquarters.
Captain Henessey, granite-jawed, shrewd-eyed veteran, looked up interestedly.