CHAPTER 4“You’re mugged, now,” observed Jamison. “I guess a flash-light picture will go well in court….”
“His ears were pink,” explained Jamison, his tone indicating the ultimate of boredom. “His ears were nice and pink. That gave him away.”
Craig was huddled in a chair in the police-station. The big policeman stood guard beside him and the desk-sergeant listened sympathetically to Jamison’s tale of woe.
“My Gawd,” said Jamison disgustedly. “I haven’t seen a really neat job in so long you’d think everybody with brains had turned honest. Look at him, now. He passed through here once a month for six months or so, carrying stuff from New Orleans to New York and back. He was a regular at the hotel, and the clerk always gave him the same room, and he saw it had one o’ these cheap made-by-the
