They sped downtown, toward the East River, the criminologist on
the seat where he could direct the driver. At Twenty-sixth
Street, near the docks, they dismounted and Shirley gave his
directions to the detectives.
"I want you to slide along these doorways, working yourselves
separately down the water front until you are opposite the yacht
club landing. I will work on an independent line. You must get
busy when I shoot, yell or whistle,--I can't tell which. As the
popular song goes, 'You're here and I'm here, so what do we
care?' This is a chance for the Holland Agency to get a great
story in the papers for saving young Van Cleft from the
kidnappers."
He left them at the corner, and crossing to the other pavement,
began to stagger aimlessly down the street, looking for all the
world like a longshoreman returning home from a bacchanalian
celebration from some nearby Snug Harbor. It was a familiar type
of pedestrian in this neighborhood at this time of the morning.
"That guy's a cool one, Mike," said Cleary to one of his men.
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