chaps he had met in his varied career this Two-Hawks
topped the lot. The constant internal turmoil that must be going on, the
instincts of the blood--artist and autocrat! And in the end, the owner
of a cattle ranch, if he had the luck to get there alive! Dizzy old
world.

Something else happened at four o'clock. A policeman strolled into
Eightieth Street. He was at peace with the world. Spring was in his
whistle, in his stride, in the twirl of his baton. Whenever he passed a
shop window he made it serve as a mirror. No waistline yet--a comforting
thought.

Children swarmed the street and gathered at corners. The older ones
played boldly in midstreet, while the toddlers invented games that kept
them to the sidewalk and curb. The policeman came stealthily upon one
of these latter groups--Italians. At the sight of his brass buttons they
fled precipitately. He laughed. Once in a month of moons he was able to
get near enough to touch them. Natural. Hadn't he himself hiked in the
old days at the sight of a copper? Sure, he had.

A bit of colour on the sidewalk attracted his eye, and he picked up the
object. Something those kids had been playing with. A bit of red glass
out of a piece of cheap jewellery. Not half bad for a fake. He would put
one over on Maggie when he turned in for supper. Certainly this was the
age of imitation. You couldn't buy a brass button with any confidence.
He put the trinket in his pocket and continued on, soon to forget it.

At six he was off duty. As he was leaving the precinct the desk sergeant
called him back.

"Got change for a dollar, an' I'll settle that pinochle debt," offered
the sergeant.

"I'll take a look." The policeman emptied his coin pocket.

"What's that yuh got there?"

"Which?"

"The red stone?"

"Oh, that? Picked it up on the sidewalk. Some Italian kids dropped it as
they skedaddled."

"Let's have a look."

"Sure." The policeman passed over the stone.

"Gee! That looks like real money. Say, they can do anything with glass
these days."

"They sure can."

A man in civilian clothes--a detective from headquarters--went up to the
desk. "What you guys got there?"

"A ruby this boob picks up off'n the sidewalk," said the sergeant,
winking at the finder, who grinned.

"Let's have a squint at it."

The stone was handed to him. The detective stared at it carefully,
holding it on his palm and rocking it gently under the desk light.
Crimson darts of flame answered to