t 'tiz a
disguise, an' that's what ye were wantin'. Thim eyebrows is grand."

"Thanks," laughed Officer 666, "an' here's a wan hundred dollar bill
which asks ye to forget me uniform, me number an' me face."

"'Tiz done," agreed the chauffeur, tucking away the bill, "on'y take a
tip from a wise gink an' keep deep in the shadders. An' whin ye pinch
your frind don't let him holler too loud."

The yellow taxi was gone with a rush, leaving Gladwin to wonder at the
amazingly shrewd guess of its pilot.

"When I pinch me frind," he murmured. "'Twas just what I said to
Phelan. Why"----

He was gazing after the taxicab when from the opposite direction there
suddenly rolled into view a vast touring car with a familiar figure at
the wheel, and alongside the familiar figure a very pretty girl.

The car was barely rolling along, while its two occupants were talking
earnestly, their heads as close together as was possible under the
circumstances.

"Johnny Parkinson, as I'm alive!" uttered Travers Gladwin. "Me old
college chum, and as per usual--making love. Yis, me grinning
chauffeur frind, here's where we make a pinch an' test Mme. Flynn's
eyebrows. Officer, do your duty!"

Out he stepped into the roadway and raised his nightstick.

The big car came to a sudden stop and the two occupants stared angrily
at the cause of the interruption.

"I arrest yez in the name o' the law," cried Patrolman Gladwin,
scowling so fiercely that one of the eyebrows was in danger.

"What's that?" snorted the young aristocrat.

"You're me pris'ner," said Gladwin, easily. "I arrest ye fer breaking
the speed laws--racin' on the aven-oo."

"It's an outrage!" cried the pretty passenger. "We were scarcely
crawling, Johnny."

"You must be joking, officer," said Johnny Parkinson, not very
belligerently, for he had a bad record for speeding and wasn't sure
that some earlier offense was not involved.

"I'm not jokin'," replied Gladwin, walking to the door of the tonneau
and opening it, "and ye'll oblige me by drivin' to the police
station." He got in and lolled back cozily in the cushions.

Johnny Parkinson let in the clutch and rolled northward. This was the
strangest "pinch" of his experience and he didn't know just what to
make of it. After he had gone a few blocks he turned on his
captor-passenger and said:

"Which station shall I drive to?--I'm sure there must be some
mistake."

"There's no mistake," responded Gladwin, fairly screaming