away. There was only one other person—Sanford Drake. Yesterday Dudley would have balked at asking aid from his uncle; but after their intimate talk that morning and the surprising interest the elder Drake seemed to take in his welfare, he was sure the financier would respond. Sanford Drake was levelheaded, a man of the world, and he could put him in touch with a good lawyer.
The sergeant behind the high desk was still scratching entries in the police blotter. "I'd like to make a long-distance call," Dudley addressed Delaney.
"It strikes me you'd like to do a lot of things that ain't permitted."
Dudley essayed flattery. "You've been mighty decent to me, officer, and I appreciate the way you've handled this thing. I know you won't prevent me from telling my only relative about the fix I'm in."
"What do you say, Jim?" Delaney spoke up to the sergeant, who answered, "Guess it won't do any harm." And Delaney reached down the telephone from beside the sergeant. Delaney rather liked this quiet, well set up young fellow and wondered how it had all happened. Probably a woman. Delaney sighed.
Dudley rang his uncle's number in Greenwich. Sanford Drake retired at ten usually
