As the cab rolled across the Loop Reggie settled back and gnawed nervously at his finger nails. Thoughtful meditation and analysis were not his strongest suits; in fact any thinking at all was an annoying chore to him, but he felt now that he had better bend his brain to the problem of the dark little man whom he'd seen at the club. The chap was obviously interested in him, but why? There was no reasonable answer to that question, and there was no explanation to the way the little fellow had popped up _outside_ the bar, when Reggie had seen him, a split-second before, _inside_ the bar. * * * * * Reggie was still stewing over these matters when the cab came to a stop before a swanky glitter joint which catered to afternoon revellers and jitterbugs of both sexes. Inside the smoky, dimly lighted den of din and discord Reggie forgot his troubles long enough to order a drink, his fifth of the afternoon. He was conscious of a vague buzzing between his ears and there was a pleasant mellow glow in the region of his solar plexus. Had it not been for his disturbing experience at the Midland club, he would have been feeling very, very fine. When his drink arrived he sipped it appreciatively and glanced about the crowded bar, looking for a familiar face. In one corner of the room he saw a tall young man in tweeds lounging against the wall with a drink in his hand. With a glad cry Reggie scrambled from his bar stool and lurched across the crowded floor, weaving his way with drunken dexterity through the jitterbugging maniacs. "Hi!" he cried, when he reached the tweed-clad young man's side. "How've you been, Ricky? Have a drink?" "Been fine," the young man answered. "Got a drink. Name isn't Ricky." "Not Ricky?" Reggie shook his head frowning. "Could've sworn you were good old Ricky Davis, chap I knew at school. Well, how're things?" "Good," the young man answered. "Have a drink?" "Got one," Reggie said. "Got to go now. It's been nice seeing you again, Ricky." He started to weave his way back to the bar. Suddenly he stopped, his eyes focusing in fascination on the figure of a man at the bar. A man who had appropriated the seat which Reggie had vacated. The man was small and dark. His eyes were narrow and inscrutable. He was the same person Reggie had seen at the club. The breath left Reggie's lungs in a rush. Obviously the man had followed him here! As he stood, transfixed, in the middle of the floor, the man turned and looked straight at him, a peculiar thoughtful expression on his dark face. After studying Reggie for a long interval he turned slowly back to the bar. Reggie swallowed what was left of his drink in one gulp, but the liquor had no effect on him. After the shock he'd received it would take liquid dynamite to bolster him up. He reeled back to the tall young man who was leaning against the wall. "Ricky!" he cried hoarsely. "I'm being followed. Axis agents are after me."