Dan kept on his way, and before he had journeyed another block Inspector Val caught up with him from the rear, and passed him.

Two doors further and Inspector Val entered an Italian restaurant; Dan, after going fifty yards beyond and returning, stepped into the same place.

As he laid his hand on the restaurant's door, he shot a swift look up and down the street.

There was no one in view whom he knew, and Dan brought a breath of relief.
"This bein' a stool ain't no hit with me," sighed Dan, "but will any sport show me how to sidestep it ?" As no sport was there to hear the plaint of Dan, the latter must have despaired of a reply before he put the question.

Once more he cheerfully greeted Inspector Val, and the two withdrew to a private room.
"Dan," said Inspector Val, when they were seated at a table with a flask of chianti between them, "I needn't tell you that you're still wanted for that trick you turned in Chicago, or remind you of the many little things I've overlooked in your case in New York." "No, Inspector," replied Dan, sorrowfully tasting his chianti, "I'm dead onto 'em all.