ith departed winter and was making
shivering assaults upon his bones. At the best, he realized, he could
not hope to remain secure in this cultivated wilderness beyond daylight.
With the coming of morning he would certainly be the prey of either his
pals or the police. And if they did not beat him from his hiding, plain
mortal hunger would drive him out into the open streets. If he was to
do anything at all, he must do it while he still had the moderate
protection of the night.

And then for the first time there came to him remembrance of Hunt's
rapid injunction, given him in the hurly-burly of escape when no
thoughts could impress the upper surface of his mind save those of the
immediate moment. "If you're trapped, call Plaza nine-double-o-one and
say 'Benvenuto Cellini.'"

Larry had no idea what that swift instruction might be about. And the
chance seemed a slender, fantastical one, even if he could safely get to
a public telephone. But it seemed his only chance.

He arose, and, keeping as much as he could to the wilder regions of the
park, and making the utmost use of shadows when he had to cross a
path or a drive, he stole southward. He remembered a drug-store at
Eighty-Fourth Street and Columbus Avenue, peculiarly suited to his
purpose, for it had a side entrance on Eighty-Fourth Street and was in a
neighborhood where policemen were infrequent.

Fortune favored him. At length he reached Eighty-Fourth Street and
peered over the wall. Central Park West was practically empty of
automobiles, for the theaters had not yet discharged their crowds and no
policeman was in sight. He vaulted the wall; a minute later he was in
a booth in the drug-store, had dropped his nickel in the slot, and was
asking for Plaza nine-double-o-one.

"Hello, sir!" responded the very correct voice of a man.

"Benvenuto Cellini," said Larry.

"Hold the wire, sir," said the voice.

Larry held the wire, wondering. After a moment the same correct voice
asked where Larry was speaking from. Larry gave the exact information.

"Stay right in the booth, and keep on talking; say anything you like;
the wire here will be kept open," continued the voice. "We'll not keep
you waiting long, sir."

The voice ceased. Larry began to chat about topics of the day, about
invented friends and engagements, well knowing that his stream of talk
was not being heard unless Central was "listening in"; and knowing also
that, to any one looking into the glass door