Page:The Black Camel (IA blackcamel0000earl).djvu/155

“You give me a nice ride down to the station, and then you kick me out. How am I going to get back to my bedroom? I’ve walked it once to-night.”

Charlie reached into his pocket and held out one hand in which lay a small coin. “You may make the distance by trolley,” he suggested.

Smith looked down at the coin. “A dime,” he remarked. “Ten cents. I can’t get on a street-car and offer the conductor a dime. A gentleman has to have the prestige of a dollar.”

Tired as he was, Chan laughed. “So sorry,” he answered. “There may be much in what you say. But I believe it wiser at this time to proffer you the ride and no more. The hour is late, and you should be able to maintain your dignity on very little prestige to-night.”

Stubbornly Smith shook his head. “I’ve got to have the prestige of a dollar,” he insisted.

“You mean you’ve got to have a drink,” shrugged Chan. “If the coin is unsatisfactory, I regretfully withdraw it.” He moved toward his car. “So sorry that I travel in opposite direction from your couch beneath the palm.”

Smith followed him. “Oh, well,” he said, “perhaps I’m a bit too sensitive. I'll take the dime.” Charlie gave it to him. “Just a loan, Inspector. I'll make a note of it.”

He hurried away down Bethel Street in the direction of King. With one foot on the running-board of his little car, Charlie stared after him. Finally he abandoned the flivver and followed. The empty streets were as bright as day, the risk was great, but Chan was an old hand at the game. Smith’s battered shoes