"Well, a fellow come along from Lexington avenue way, and they got into talk like. The fellow said: 'Fine night, friend.' And your friend said: 'Right you are!' One thing led to another, and the fellow said: 'That your car?' And your friend says: 'One of them.'" "Oh, the fool!" groaned Jack inwardly. Aloud he asked: "When was this?" "Half an hour ago, maybe. And the fellow says: 'What make is it?' 'Goodwin twelve, ninety horse,' said the other fellow. And----" "Yes, I know, but which way did they go?" But the fat woman was not going to be cheated of the telling of her tale. "I'm coming to that. And the fellow said--I don't mean your friend, but the other fellow, he said: 'She's new, ain't she?' And the other fellow said, that's the swell guy I'm referrin' to, the swell guy says: 'Just out of the shop!' Bye and bye the fellow said: 'Will you drink with me? And your friend says: 'Sure!' And they went in the side door of the saloon on the corner yonder." "Much obliged," said Jack, darting across the road. His quarry had flown. There were half a dozen men lined up before the mahogany, but Bobo was not among them. Neither was he in the small sitting-room behind. Jack applied himself to the white-jacketed bar-tender. "Did a friend of mine come in here about half an hour ago?" "Fellow dressed like yourself?" Jack nodded. "Sure, he come in here with a little guy with a bad eye." "What d'ye mean, bad eye?" "Crooked. He had a face you could break rocks on. I thought at the time it was a case of a come-on, but it weren't my place to interfere. 'Specially as your friend seemed sober enough. But he certainly was lappin' 'em up!" Jack began to get seriously anxious. "They downed four whiskeys in less'n ten minutes. Least your friend did. Little guy just tasted hisn. Then they left." "Where did they go?" "Search me! Little guy says he knows a better place down the Avenue, but I didn't hear the name of it. Swell guy says he can't go because he's waiting for his friend, but little fellow says: 'Ahh, we'll be back in fifteen minutes', and swell guy says: 'He's callin' on a dame acrost the street, so I guess he's good for another half hour.' Then they went out the front door." One of the regulars of the place who had heard Jack's inquiry took up the story here. "They got in a taxi-cab," he said. "I was watching out of the window. It was Gus Harris' car, it was." "Gus'll tell you where he took 'em," said the bar-tender soothingly. "He'll be back in a minute if he don't pick up another fare in the street," the other speaker said. "Just stick around awhile." By this time everybody present was interested in Jack's quest. "Here he is! Here's Gus!" half a dozen voices cried, as a battered taxi-cab came to a stand before the door. They all followed him out on the pavement. "Did you pick up a friend of mine here?" asked Jack of the driver.