"Sure, ma'am. That's his game. He t'rows phony fits. He eats a bit of soap and makes his mouth foam. Last week, he got pinched right near here----" But the dummy-chucker heard no more. He rolled sidewise just as the cry: "Police!" burst from the woman's lips. He reached the curb, rose, burst through the gathering crowd, and rounded a corner at full speed. He was half-way to Eighth Avenue, and burning lungs had slowed him to a jog-trot, when a motor-car pulled up alongside the curb. It kept gentle pace with the fugitive. A shrewd-featured young man leaned from its fashionably sloped wheel. "Better hop aboard," he suggested. "That policeman is fat, but he has speed." The dummy-chucker glanced over his shoulder. Looming high as the Woolworth Building, fear overcoming the dwarfing tendency of distance, came a policeman. The dummy-chucker leaped to the motor's running-board. He climbed into the vacant front seat. "Thanks, feller," he grunted. "A li'l speed, please." The young man chuckled. He rounded the corner into Eighth Avenue and darted north among the trucks. At Columbus Circle, the dummy-chucker spoke. "Thanks again, friend," he said. "I'll be steppin' off here." His rescuer glanced at him. "Want to earn a hundred dollars?" "Quitcher kiddin'," said the dummy-chucker. "No, no; this is serious," said the young man. The dummy-chucker leaned luxuriously back in his seat. "Take me _anywhere_, friend," he said. Half-way round the huge circle at Fifty-ninth Street, the young man guided the car. Then he shot into the park. They curved eastward. They came out on Fifth Avenue, somewhere in the Seventies. They shot eastward another half-block, and then the car stopped in front of an apartment-house. The young man pressed the button on the steering-wheel. In response to the short blast of the electric horn, a uniformed man appeared. The young man alighted. The dummy-chucker followed suit. "Take the car around to the garage, Andrews," said the young man. He nodded to the dummy-chucker. In a daze, the mendicant followed his rescuer. He entered a gorgeously mirrored and gilded hall. He stepped into an elevator chauffeured by a West Indian of the haughtiest blood. The dummy-chucker was suddenly conscious of his tattered garb, his ill-fitting, run-down shoes. He stepped, when they alighted from the lift, as gingerly as though he trod on tacks. A servant in livery, as had been the waiting chauffeur downstairs, opened a door. If he was surprised at his master's choice of guest, he was too well trained to show it. He did not rebel even when ordered to serve sandwiches and liquor to the dummy-chucker. "You seem hungry," commented the young man. The dummy-chucker reached for another sandwich with his left hand while he poured himself a drink of genuine Scotch with his right. "_And_ thirsty," he grunted. "Go to it," observed his host genially.