"But what's this all about, anyway?" demanded the bewildered officer, shouldering out through the crowd with the other man at his heels.
"God only knows," was that other man's retort, morosely brushing his battered hat with the palm of his hand.
"But who is he?"
"Who's who?"
"The guy who flashed that Central Office shield."
"One o' Wilkie's men."
"Wilkie?"
"Chief Wilkie, of the Washington Bureau; and we've made a nice mess o' this little coup o' his between us!"
"Then where's the rib figurin in it?" asked the still perplexed officer.
"The rib?"
"The woman with the Fifth Avenue make-up."
"Oh, that s Cherry Purcelle—she's the come-on for the Washington Bureau people."
"Bureau—what Bureau?" asked the officer, still in the dark.
"The Secret Service Bureau, you pin-head!" The man speaking had just discovered a rib abrasion that made him wince with pain.
"Then why t'ell didn't you put me wise? I
