Ben grinned anew and rested himself against a near-by telephone pole.
"Free country, ain't it?" he inquired, lazily. "Or have you invested your winnings and bought this here alley?"
Hammond reddened with anger and took a step forward. The next words of Chacherre, however, jerked him sharply into self-control.
"Seen anything of an aviator's helmet around here?"
"Huh?" The chauffeur glared at his tormentor, yet with a sudden sick feeling inside his bosom. He suddenly realized that the man's eyes were meeting his squarely, with a bold and insolent directness. "Who you kiddin' now?"
"Nobody. I was asking a question, that's all." Ben Chacherre flung away his cigarette, untangled himself from the telephone pole, and moved away. "Only," he flung over his shoulder, "I was flyin' along here last night in my airplane, and I lost my helmet overboard. Thought maybe you'd seen it. So long, brother!"
Hammond stood staring after the swaggering figure; for once he was speechless. The jaunty words had sent terror thrilling into
