While the waiter uncorks the wine, Joe says: "What do you pay for
your clothes, Lee?"
"Oh, a hundred and fifty will do," is the modest answer. "That
carries an overcoat."
Joe laughs as he beautifies a blank check with his order to himself,
to pay to himself, five thousand one hundred and fifty dollars,
and neatly indorses it, "Joseph Woods." "I guess that's the caper,
Captain," he says. This "little formality" over, the wine goes to
the right place THIS TIME.
"Now I don't want to see you any more till I get your reminiscences
of that lady," remarks Joe, reaching for his gold-headed club.
"On time, ten o'clock," is the response of the police captain.
"Have you seen her since, Joe? She was a high stepper," muses the
Captain. He has been a great connoisseur of loveliness. Many fair
ones have passed under his hands in public duty or private seance.
"That's my business," sturdy Joe mutters, with an unearthly wink.
"You give me back my check, old man, and I'll tell you what _I_
know."
Lee laughs. "I'm not so curious, Colonel."
They shake hands, and the gray old wolf goes to his den to muse
over what has sent Joe Woods on a quest for this "fallen star."
Lee wastes no time in mooning.
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