"I say, Bucky," said Frawley with a lazy interest, "would they serve you five-o'clock tea here, I wonder?" Greenfield, drawing back, laughed a superior laugh. "Bub, I'm sorry for you--'pon my word I am." "How so, Bucky?" "Why, you plodding little English lamb, you don't have the slightest suspicion what you're gettin' into!" "What am I getting into, Bucky?" Greenfield threw back his head with a chuckle. "If you get me, it'll be the last job you ever pull off." "Maybe, maybe." "Since things are aboveboard--listen here," said Greenfield with sudden seriousness. "Bub, you'll not get me alive. Nothing personal, you understand, but it'll have to be your life or mine. If it comes to the pinch, look out for yourself--" "Oh, yes," said Frawley, with a matter-of-fact nod, "I understand." "I ain't tried to bribe you," said Greenfield, rising. "Thank me for that--though another man might have been sent up for life." "Thanks," Frawley said with a drawl. "And you'll notice I haven't advised you to come back and face the music. Seems to me we understand each other." "Here's my address," said Greenfield, handing him a card; "may save you some trouble. I'm here every night." He held out his hand. "Turn up and meet the profesh. They're a clever lot here. They'd appreciate meeting you, too." "Perhaps I will." "Ta-ta, then." Greenfield took a few steps, halted, and lounged back with a smile full of mischief. "By the way, Bub--how long has Her Majesty's dinkies given you?" "It's a life appointment, Bucky." "Really--bless me--then your bloomin' government has some sense after all." The two men saluted gravely, with a parting exchange. "Now, Bub--keep fit." "Same to you, Bucky." IV The view of Greenfield sauntering lightly away among the noisy tables, bravado in his manner, deviltry in his heart, was the last glimpse Inspector Frawley was destined to have of him in many months. True, Greenfield had not lied: the address was genuine, but the man was gone. For days Frawley had the city scoured without gaining a clue. No steamer had left the harbor, not even a tramp. If Greenfield was not in hiding, he must have buried himself in the interior. It was a week before Frawley found the track. Greenfield had walked thirty miles into the country and taken the train for Rio Mendoza on the route across the Andes to Valparaiso.