He entered,
and, without looking to right or left, made his way to the small cafe
in the rear. A man seated at one of the little tables looked up and
nodded. Grand took the chair opposite to this person and, after an
exchange of greetings for the benefit of the waiter, ordered oysters
and a pint of musty ale. The Colonel had his principal meal at
midnight.
"Do you know where Braddock is?" he demanded as soon as the waiter had
left the table.
"Sure," said the man opposite. "He's laying low in that dive over on--
"
"Nothing of the kind," interrupted Grand sharply. Fixing him with his
cold, steady eyes, he went on: "You are a wonderful spotter, you are.
So you've been watching that place over there all day, have you? And
you are sure he's there, eh? Well, let me tell you how damned
worthless you are. I expected you'd have him behind the bars before
ten o'clock, but--"
"Say, Colonel, on the square, the police here are the slowest bunch
of--"
"Never mind," snapped the Colonel. "He's still at large, and he's not
over there at Dick Cronk's. So much for your fine detective work."
The man was an operative for one of the biggest private detective
agencies in New York.
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