m keep that door open? You'd think--"

"The way I figure it," the chauffeur cut in, "Red's plannin' to make
his getaway in a car. He's just waitin' till the goin' looks good, and
then he'll sail outa there like a streak of greased lightnin'. Yuh
wanta be ready to duck, too, 'cause he'll come this way, an' keep guns
goin' to prevent anybody from hinderin' him."

"Why this way? Sixth Avenue's nearer."

"Sure it is, but that way he'd have them L pillars to duck, to say
nothin' of the crowd, and no tellin' but what a surface-car might
block him. Yuh watch an' see 'f I ain't doped it out right."

From the dark interior of the besieged garage another automatic
fluttered briskly; across the street a window fell in....

"Look here--you come with me," said P. Sybarite suddenly, plucking his
chauffeur by the sleeve.

With a reluctant backward glance, the man suffered himself to be drawn
apart from the crowd.

"How much nerve have you got?" the little Irishman demanded.

"Who--me? Why?"

"I want to stop this getaway--"

"Not for mine, friend." The chauffeur laughed scornfully. "I ain't
lost no Red November!"

"Will a thousand dollars make you change your mind?"

The chauffeur's eyes narrowed.

"Whatcha drivin' at? Me--why--I'd take a lotta chances for a
thousand."

"Help me--do as I say--and it's yours."

"Lead me to the coin," was the prompt decision.

"Here, then!"

P. Sybarite delved hastily into a trousers pocket and produced a
handful of bills of large denominations.

"There's a five hundred dollar bill to start with," he rattled,
stripping off the first that fell to his fingers--"and here's a
hundred--no, here's another five instead."

"In the mitt," the chauffeur stipulated simply, extending his palm.
"Either you're crazy or I am--but in the mitt, friend, and I'll run
the car right into that garage, 'f you say so."

"Nothing so foolish as that." P. Sybarite handed over the two bills
and put away the rest of his wealth. "Just jump into that car and be
ready to swing across the street and block 'em as they come."

"You're on!" agreed the chauffeur with emotion--carefully putting his
money away.

"And a thousand more"--his courage wrung this tribute from P.
Sybarite's admiration--"if you're hurt--"

"You're on there, too--and don't think for a minute I'll letcha
fergit, neither."

The chauffeur turned to his car, jumped into the driver's seat, and
advanced the spark. The purr of the motor deepe