“That’s police station R,” said Boland.
“I know,” replied Druce, “just listen.”
“Hello,” he said presently, “is this you, Cap?”
Boland heard a familiar voice answer affirmatively.
“This is Druce talking,” the dive-owner went on, “Druce of the Cafe Sinister. Say, we’ll be open all night tonight. Don’t make any trouble for us, you understand. Just let your fellows know that they’re not to hear anything that goes on in this beat. I’ll send McEdwards around in the morning with a special envelope for you. Get me?”
Druce cut off the two telephones.
“Well,” he asked triumphantly, “what do you think of that?”
Boland laughed cynically.
“Rather good,” he answered. “I know your friend, the captain. The fact is, I know him rather well. We belong to the same church.” He chuckled over his own joke. “However,” he went on, “I didn’t come here to be entertained, nor to be initiated into the mysteries of the police department. Let’s get down to business. I’ve got to get out of town tonight. I’m going to ’Frisco.”
“To ’Frisco?”