“Three, you mean, Mr. Carroll,” exclaimed Parsons. “If there’s any fighting to be done, I’m in on it, too, of course. I guess nobody’ll steal the machine while we’re away.” The _Bulletin’s_ police reporter was such a frail-looking chap that Hawley could scarcely repress a smile at these words, although he greatly appreciated the spirit which prompted them. “Much obliged to both of you,” the Camera Chap said; “but, really, I prefer to go alone. I think I can easily convince you that it will be a much better plan for you fellows to wait here in the machine.” “I won’t hear of any such arrangement,” Carroll declared firmly. “If you go, I’m going, too; and if Parsons wants to come along, he’s welcome. The more the merrier. You may have your faults, Frank, old man, but I like you too well to be willing to sit passively here while you’re being beaten to a pulp around the corner.” “I’m not going to be beaten to a pulp,” the Camera Chap protested, with a laugh. “I intend to use strategy. If I go alone, I feel confident I’ll be able to get away with it; but if you fellows insist upon butting in, you’ll surely queer me. I’m a stranger to that bunch at Dutch Louie’s, but you fellows are not. Both of you would be recognized as soon as you entered the place, and I’d have no chance to take the picture.” Carroll had to admit that there was a lot in this argument, and, after a little more demurring, he grudgingly consented to let Hawley have his way in the matter. “But I’m not going to stay here in the car,” he declared. “I’m going to hang around outside that joint, and keep my ears wide open. As soon as I hear the sound of a rough-house I’m coming in, for I’ll know then that, in spite of all your resourcefulness and ingenuity, strategy has failed.” “All right,” assented Hawley, with a laugh. “If strategy fails, I’ll be glad to have the help of those big fists of yours. But I feel confident there isn’t going to be any violence.” CHAPTER XVII. A BIT OF STRATEGY. There was no mistaking Dutch Louie’s place, for it was the only restaurant on the block; moreover, the name of the proprietor was emblazoned in white letters on a flaring red glass sign. As Parsons had predicted, the place was wide open. Although it was nearly two a. m., and the State excise law forbids business of the kind after one o’clock, the two waiters were very busy serving drinks. The Camera Chap walked through the front room, and entered the room beyond. He pretended to be under the influence of liquor--walked like a fellow who has all the sail he can carry. It had occurred to him that this pretense might help his game along, although he had not as yet hit upon any definite plan for the taking of the picture. In a corner of this rear room several men were seated at a round table, playing cards. One of these players wore a blue coat with brass buttons, and his hair was the color of carrots. By these tokens, Hawley knew that he was in the presence of Patrolman Red Horgan.