"May need you as a witness," he explained. "Those kids can't use smoke on us. When they do that, we pull them in." He seemed to think the smoke was the bad thing. "They tried to kill the lady," I pointed out. He shook his head wisely. "They always pretend they're going to, but actually they just want to snag skirts. I've picked up rippers with as many as fifty skirt-snags tacked up in their rooms. Of course, sometimes they come a little too close." I explained that if I hadn't yanked her out of the way, she'd have been hit by more than hooks. But he interrupted, "If she'd thought it was a real murder attempt, she'd have stayed here." I looked around. It was true. She was gone. "She was fearfully frightened," I told him. "Who wouldn't be? Those kids would have scared old Stalin himself." "I mean frightened of more than 'kids.' They didn't look like 'kids.'" "What did they look like?" I tried without much success to describe the three faces. A vague impression of viciousness and effeminacy doesn't mean much. "Well, I could be wrong," he said finally. "Do you know the girl? Where she lives?" "No," I half lied. The other policeman hung up his radiophone and ambled toward us, kicking at the tendrils of dissipating smoke. The black cloud no longer hid the dingy facades with their five-year-old radiation flash-burns, and I could begin to make out the distant stump of the Empire State Building, thrusting up out of Inferno like a mangled finger. "They haven't been picked up so far," the approaching policeman grumbled. "Left smoke for five blocks, from what Ryan says." The first policeman shook his head. "That's bad," he observed solemnly. I was feeling a bit uneasy and ashamed. An Englishman shouldn't lie, at least not on impulse. "They sound like nasty customers," the first policeman continued in the same grim tone. "We'll need witnesses. Looks as if you may have to stay in New York longer than you expect." I got the point. I said, "I forgot to show you all my papers," and handed him a few others, making sure there was a five dollar bill in among them. * * * * * When he handed them back a bit later, his voice was no longer ominous. My feelings of guilt vanished. To cement our relationship, I chatted with the two of them about their job. "I suppose the masks give you some trouble," I observed. "Over in England we've been reading about your new crop of masked female bandits." "Those things get exaggerated," the first policeman assured me. "It's the men masking as women that really mix us up. But, brother, when we nab them, we jump on them with both feet." "And you get so you can spot women almost as well as if they had naked faces," the second policeman volunteered. "You know, hands and all that." "Especially all that," the first agreed with a chuckle. "Say, is it true that some girls don't mask over in England?"