“Ah-ha, Gordy,” persisted the accused. “What’d I tell you.” He turned to the waiter. “Gordy an’ I friends. Been tryin’ help him, haven’t I, Gordy?” Gordy looked up. “Help me? Hell, no!” Jewel rose suddenly, and seizing Gordon’s arm assisted him to his feet. “Come on, Gordy!” she said, leaning toward him and speaking in a half whisper. “Let’s us get out of here. This fella’s got a mean drunk on.” Gordon allowed himself to be urged to his feet and started toward the door. Jewel turned for a second and addressed the provoker of their flight. “I know all about _you_!” she said fiercely. “Nice friend, you are, I’ll say. He told me about you.” Then she seized Gordon’s arm, and together they made their way through the curious crowd, paid their check, and went out. “You’ll have to sit down,” said the waiter to Peter after they had gone. “What’s ’at? Sit down?” “Yes--or get out.” Peter turned to Dean. “Come on,” he suggested. “Let’s beat up this waiter.” “All right.” They advanced toward him, their faces grown stern. The waiter retreated. Peter suddenly reached over to a plate on the table beside him and picking up a handful of hash tossed it into the air. It descended as a languid parabola in snowflake effect on the heads of those near by. “Hey! Ease up!” “Put him out!” “Sit down, Peter!” “Cut out that stuff!” Peter laughed and bowed. “Thank you for your kind applause, ladies and gents. If some one will lend me some more hash and a tall hat we will go on with the act.” The bouncer bustled up. “You’ve gotta get out!” he said to Peter. “Hell, no!” “He’s my friend!” put in Dean indignantly. A crowd of waiters were gathering. “Put him out!” “Better go, Peter.” There was a short struggle and the two were edged and pushed toward the door. “I got a hat and a coat here!” cried Peter. “Well, go get ’em and be spry about it!” The bouncer released his hold on Peter, who, adopting a ludicrous air of extreme cunning, rushed immediately around to the other table, where he burst into derisive laughter and thumbed his nose at the exasperated waiters. “Think I just better wait a l’il longer,” he announced. The chase began. Four waiters were sent around one way and four another. Dean caught hold of two of them by the coat, and another struggle took place before the pursuit of Peter could be resumed; he was finally pinioned after overturning a sugar-bowl and several cups of coffee. A fresh argument ensued at the cashier’s desk, where Peter attempted to buy another dish of hash to take with him and throw at policemen. But the commotion upon his exit proper was dwarfed by another phenomenon which drew admiring glances and a prolonged involuntary “Oh-h-h!” from every person in the restaurant.