ar.

Dan glanced at the note; next he smote the bar, accompanying the smiting
with soft curses.

"What's the row?" asked one of the loungers.

"Nothin'," said Dan, his face clearing into a look of easy craft.
"Here's a pal of mine gets himself run over an' fractured by the cable
cars, an' is took to the hospital. You hold down the bar, Jimmy, while I
go look him over."

The person addressed as Jimmy had no objection to an arrangement that
meant free drinks, and once he was installed Dan put on his hat and
moved rapidly up the street. A turn or two and a brisk walk of ten
minutes found him in Mulberry Bend. Dan walked more slowly, and was
rewarded by the sight of Inspector Val sauntering along half a block
ahead. The great thief-taker rounded a corner, and albeit Dan made no
effort to overtake him, he was scrupulous to make the same turn. As he
came into the cross-street he glanced about for Inspector Val; that
personage was nowhere to be seen. Dan kept on his way, and before he had
journeyed another block Inspector Val caught up with him from the rear,
and passed him. Two doors further and Inspector Val entered an Italian
restaurant; Dan, after going fifty yards beyond and returning, stepped
into the same place. As he laid his hand on the restaurant's door, he
shot a swift look up and down the street. There was no one in view whom
he knew, and Dan brought a breath of relief.

"This bein' a stool ain't no hit with me," sighed Dan, "but will any
sport show me how to sidestep it?"

As no sport was there to hear the plaint of Dan, the latter must have
despaired of a reply before he put the question. Once more he cheerfully
greeted Inspector Val, and the two withdrew to a private room.

"Dan," said Inspector Val, when they were seated at a table with a flask
of chianti between them, "I needn't tell you that you're still wanted
for that trick you turned in Chicago, or remind you of the many little
things I've overlooked in your case in New York."

"No, Inspector," replied Dan, sorrowfully tasting his chianti, "I'm dead
onto 'em all. What is it? Give it a name."

"Do you know what that black-bearded man wanted in your place?"

"No," said Dan, "I don't."

"He came to meet London Bill, and you floor-managed the play."

"But I don't know what he wanted of Bill," said Dan, a bit staggered.

"Well, I know what he wanted of Bill. And I know what he will want of
you. I'll tell you what you are to do; and if you cross m