Then, having retired to the one dingy chambre separee which that dingy caravansary offered, and having made sure a certain chamois-covered package was still in place, she ordered a silver fizz and a package of Turkish cigarettes.
"Gee," she confided to the shirt-sleeved Hibernian who proceeded to supply her wants, "but I'm sure gapin' at the gills for a smoke!"
••••••••
It was five minutes later that Kestner and a patrolman, giving up their house-search, returned to the open street. There they met nothing to revive their failing hopes of a round-up.
"Tim," said the patrolman to the officer still swinging his night-stick, "you dead sure nobody got by you here?"
"Divil a sowl," was Tim's answer. "Nothin' in petticoats—beyant a young slip of a gerrl wid a laundry-bag!"
"A what?" demanded Kestner.
"A kitchen-gerrl wid a twisted face and a mug full av chewin' gum—a kid widout a hat!"
The patrolman, unconscious of Kestner's little groan of disgust, turned contemplatively to the Secret Agent.
"I guess we'd better work to the east. If your woman's in that block, the sooner we dig her out, the better!"
Kestner laughed—but quite without mirth.
"The woman's gone," he called back, as he strode toward the waiting taxi-cab. "She made her getaway with that laundry-bag. And here's where I have to begin all over again!"
