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The Lizard grunted and entered his own cab. As he did so a man on a motorcycle

drew up on the opposite side and peered through the window. The driver had

started his motor as the newcomer approached. From her cab the girl saw the

Lizard and the man on the motorcycle look into each other's face for a moment,

then she heard the Lizard's quick admonition to his driver, "Beat it, bo!"

A sharp "Halt!" came from the man on the motorcycle, but the taxicab leaped

forward, and, accelerating rapidly, turned to the left into the road toward the city.

The girl had guessed at the first glance that the man on the motorcycle was a

police officer. As the Lizard's taxi raced away the officer circled quickly and

started in pursuit. "No chance," thought the girl. "He'll get caught sure." She

could hear the staccato reports from the open exhaust of the motorcycle

diminishing rapidly in the distance, indicating the speed of the pursued and the

pursuer.

And then from the distance came a shot and then another and another. She

leaned forward and spoke to her own driver. "Go on to Elmhurst," she said, "and

then come back to the city on the St. Charles Road."

It was after two o'clock in the morning when the Lizard entered an apartment on

Ashland Avenue which he had for several years used as a hiding-place when the

police were hot upon his trail. The people from whom he rented the room were

eminently respectable Jews who thought their occasional roomer what he

represented himself to be, a special agent for one of the federal departments, a

vocation which naturally explained the Lizard's long absences and unusual

hours.

Once within his room the Lizard sank into a chair and wiped the perspiration

from his forehead, although it was by no means a warm night. He drew a folded

paper from his inside pocket, which, when opened, revealed a small piece of

wrapping paper within. They were Murray's letter to Bince and the enclosure.

187

The Efficiency Expert