About two o'clock one afternoon, three men, two of them well-known owners of a place in West 35th Street,[241] were standing in West 30th Street, 100 feet from the station house; when a few moments later the plain clothes men started to go on duty, one[242] of them beckoned to two of the officers[243] and engaged them in prolonged conversation. Its purport was subsequently summarized to his friends: "Don't worry!" At times a "collector" is said to be the intermediary in transactions similar to those implied in the foregoing incidents. Among the best known of these is a saloonkeeper[244] once enjoying the reputation of protecting the entire Red Light district, at that time situated in Allen Street. His saloon[245] is now a hangout for thieves, gamblers and the like. Two patrolmen and an officer[246] are named as coming to his resort to "fix" pimp cases. The "lookout"[247] for a Sixth Avenue[248] establishment remarked, in describing the financial operations of the place, that he receives 10 percent of the profits monthly, that $200 a month go to inspector and captain, and that the patrolman[249] is paid nightly. An individual who has been publicly accused of being a vice graft collector[250] entered a disorderly flat in West 58th Street[251] on June 15, 1912, for the purpose of perfecting arrangements in regard to protection. The madame[252] expressed herself as satisfied with the way in which she was being treated.[253] She stated, however, that her neighbor downstairs "had a scrap with the collector for the police[254] over protection and that he had refused to take her money any more. The result is that every one of the 'underdogs' (_i. e._, plain clothes men) comes running to her every night with a different complaint and you know what that means. She has 'to see them' every time they come. In the long run, it costs three or four times as much; and she got a 'collar' (_i. e._, arrest) in the bargain." One of our agents witnessed, on the evening of June 1, 1912, a settlement between a well-known collector for the police in New York City and the owners of 15 different establishments, situated between West 18th Street and West 36th Street. At one o'clock in the morning, they sat around a large table[255] on which four piles of money, the smallest denomination being $5 bills, were heaped up. It had been paid to the police collector, who carried it away in a violin case. The foregoing incidents explain why a district such as Seventh Avenue is called a "money post."[256]