"

The driver addressed Malone. "Do you ever see either of these boys
before?"

"Never," Malone said.

"Nor do I," the cabbie said. He eyed the gunman. "We are not your
friend," he said. "Either of us."

"No, no," the gunman said. "Not you. This friend, he ... uh ... owns a
taxi, and we thought this was it. It was kind of a joke, see? A
friendly joke, that's all. Believe me, the gun's not even loaded. Both
of them aren't. Phony bullets, honest. Believe me?"

"Why, naturally I believe you," the cabbie said politely. "I never
doubt the word of a stranger, especially such an honest-appearing
stranger as you seem to be. And since the gun is loaded with false
bullets, as you say, all you have to do is reach over and take it away
from me."

There was a short silence.

"A joke," the gunman said feebly. "Honest, just a joke."

"We believe you," Malone assured him grandly. "As a matter of fact, we
appreciate the joke so much that we want you to tell it to a panel of
twelve citizens, a judge and a couple of lawyers, so they can
appreciate it, too. They get little fun out of life and your joke may
give them a few moments of happiness. Why hide your light under an
alibi?"

The horn continued its dismal wail for a few seconds more before two
patrolmen and a sergeant came up on horses. It took somewhat more time
than that for Malone to convince the sergeant that he didn't have time
to go down to the station to prefer charges. He showed his
identification and the police were suitably impressed.

"Lock 'em up for violating the Sullivan Law," he said. "I'm sure they
don't have licenses for these lovely little guns of theirs."

"Probably not," the sergeant agreed. "There's been an awful lot of
this kind of thing going on lately. But here's an idea: the cabbie
here can come on with us."

The top of the cabbie's head turned pale. "That," he said, "is the
trouble with being a law-abiding citizen such as I have been for
upwards of thirty years. Because I do not want to lose twenty dollars
to these young strangers, I lose twenty dollars' worth of time in a
precinct station, the air of which is very bad for my asthma."

Malone, taking the hint, dug a twenty out of his pockets, and then
added another to it, remembering how much he had spent in Las Vegas,
where his money funneled slowly into the pockets of Primo Palveri. The
cabbie took the money with haste and politeness and stowed it away.

"Gentlemen," he said, "I am now pr