THE GIRL IN HIS HOUSE
and confronted. Bog, bog! He could feel himself sinking deeper and deeper every moment.
"Well, go on," urged the policeman, ironically. "This is Friday and everything smells fish."
"This is your beat?" asked Armitage, desperately.
"It is; and I'm always on it, and no back talk."
As the little bits of colored glass in a kaleidoscope tumble into recognizable forms so Armitage's broken thoughts tumbled into coherency. He had just one chance. "Do you know Robert Burlingham?"
"Around in Seventy-second Street? Yeah. I begin to see. Poker game, and the missus comes back from the country. Oh, I'm a good listener, believe me. Go on."
"The fact is," Armitage floundered, "I just got back from the other side of the world to-day, and I thought I'd give Burlingham a scare by going in the rear way."
"I was born in Ireland, but I vote in Missouri. But I'm a good listener; always ready to hear new stuff. Go on."
19
