My instructions were to find a cheap restaurant or lunchroom along the most frequented part of Bleecker Street, and to get into conversation with the lady cashier. I chose three-thirty as the hour when such places would be least busy. I was disguised as a servant girl on her day out. I found my lunchroom and ordered a piece of mince pie and a cup of coffee for which I had not the least desire.
When I paid my check I lingered beside the cashier’s desk with a smile of foolish good-nature.
“I allus eats my lunch late,” I said. “You kin take your time and eat comfortable wit’out bein’ pushed by the crowd.”
The cashier’s glance said that she didn’t give a damn if I never got any lunch, but I didn’t care. I had her penned behind her little counter where she couldn’t escape. By degrees I came
