Before Adams could stop him, Drake was lurching toward the door and into the waiting arms of the doorman. Puffy tossed a bill on the counter and Mary's eyes popped a fraction. "We'll bring it back when he sobers up," he said quickly. "Must have got the wrong number." "Thanks!" "Forget it." He went toward Drake and the grinning doorman. Rescuing his drunken charge. Adams helped him across the walk toward the car. "Come on, Cinderella. You got a date with the sandman." Somewhere down State Street came the mournful howl of a siren. "Whee!" Drake waved the fur in the air above his head. "Fire--want to go to fire." * * * * * A crowd of patrons were pouring from the club behind them. With a quick push Puffy deposited Drake in the streamlined coupe and rounded the rear tires on the run. He jumped behind the wheel and turned the key. Sirens were whining in close now. The door slammed and a girl landed squarely on Drake's lap. It was the dancing girl, Sylvia Fanton. Her face was flushed brightly with fright. "Whee!" Drake shouted gleefully. "The Angel herself. Where's the Tiffany?" He threw his arms about her slim, silver-clad waist and planted a popping kiss on her cheek. The flat of the girl's hand caught his face, hard. Drake sobered a degree. "My jacket!" her voice was strained and tense. "Please! I must have it at once." Drake was interested. His pale eyes started to show fight. "Sure!" he said. "But it's _my_ jacket." The sirens were dying now. A powerful police car shot to the curb behind them. Puffy's eyes narrowed and he drove the coupe away from the club smoothly. "Too hot around here," he said to no one in particular. "Can't stand the smell of copper's feet." Sylvia Fanton's dress was badly ripped on one side. The silken stocking and smooth flesh of her thigh was visible through the tear. "Please!" There were tears in her cold eyes. "I _must_ have the jacket. It _is_ mine, you know." Drake was coy. "Aw," he insisted. "I had a ticket for it." She slipped between them, her arm around Drake's shoulder. Realizing that he was drunk, she tried a different approach. "Now what would you do with it?" she asked sweetly. "You would look funny wearing a silver fox jacket. You'd be just an old fox." Jim hesitated. Then he slipped the jacket from his arm and around her soft shoulder. "I'll make a deal with you," he suggested. "Let us take you home and you can have the old animal." * * * * * For the first time his eyes were clearing enough to get a really good look at the girl at his side. He started to wonder vaguely how she had gotten here. She was small and her tiny face seemed almost cupid-like to his uncertain vision. Her eyes were frightened like the eyes of a timid animal. "Okay!" Puffy said sharply. "You've made a bargain. I ain't driving all night. Where to?" Her voice snapped out sharp and cold. "Nowhere. Stop right here." Jim Drake chuckled.