Slim shook his head. “There’s the back entrance, but something tells me I didn’t do those guys justice. I’m going to have a look, but I don’t believe they’ve left the back door unguarded.” He went down the block about half-way and there turned into a narrow alley. Some eighty feet beyond, the forms of a dozen or more youths showed where the dim light from a glass-paneled door fell across the passage. Slim stopped. “You can’t fight them,” he muttered disgustedly. “They’ve got us stopped again, General.” The two retraced their steps, followed by a jeering shout from the depths of the alley. “We’ll go around to Market street,” announced Slim, “and think this over. There must be some way!” CHAPTER XVIII LEONARD COMES TO THE PARTY On Market street Slim led the way into a drug store and slipped onto a stool in front of the white marble counter where two aproned youths were dispensing drinks. “We’ve got to cook up some scheme,” he said, “and we might as well be comfortable while we’re at it. What’s yours?” “Mine’s a good dinner,” answered Leonard wistfully. “You’re in the wrong shop, General, but you can have a sandwich if you say the word.” Leonard looked longingly at the two tiers of sandwiches under the glass cover nearby. “You?” he asked. Slim shook his head sternly. “No, sir, I’m going to dine at Kingman’s in about ten minutes.” Leonard sighed and mentioned his choice of a beverage. The renunciation was difficult. When their glasses were in front of them Slim lifted his gravely. “Here’s luck,” he said. “Success to our scheme,” replied Leonard, and drank deeply. The concoction tasted good and he imbibed again and felt better. He glanced at Slim. Slim was staring hard at the counter and absently tracing a design on its smooth surface. The clock at the end of the store, above the prescription counter, proclaimed three minutes past seven. Leonard looked out through the big glass window and sought inspiration. The sidewalks were well thronged, for the evening was mild for November. A big yellow trolley car passed with a strident clanging of its gong. Automobiles went by honking warningly to the rash pedestrians who sought to find their way across the street. A smart looking policeman, his fingers crooked in his belt, paused momentarily to view the contents of the window and then continued on his beat. Leonard had found his inspiration. “Slim, look here,” he exclaimed. “Why can’t we get a cop to put us through that mob back there? I just saw one go by. If we told him how it was--” But Slim looked instantly disapproving. “That wouldn’t be playing the game,” he answered. “You--you don’t call on the cops to help you, General. It isn’t done.” [Illustration: “That wouldn’t be playing the game,” he answered] “Isn’t done be blowed!” said Leonard. “Look here, I’m so hungry I could eat nails. We didn’t have enough lunch to keep a canary alive, Slim. I want my dinner, and if I can get it by hooking onto a cop--”