So, the professor was going to a party.
In truth, this is true.
And I was going with a girl who had thrown me out of her store.
Now, here’s a truth: The professor is heartless. But I was going, see, because the girl’s sister–who was also going to the party–was going with Mark Malone.
Always fun to have quality spying time.
I was going to spy. This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come from my spying.
So, we were to meet outside the tea shop.
I was there five minutes early.
It’s always good to be a bit early, see.
Now here’s the thing: I waited outside the tea shop for ages.
Then, more sudden than rain in the winter, a yellow car pulled around the corner and stopped in front of the tea shop.
The window rolled down.
It was Malone. Mark Malone.
“Jump in, good fellow,” he said.
I got in the back.
The girl was sitting there. Her older sister was in the front, and Mark was driving. A wonder.
The car zoomed off.
This professor, then, had to ask a hard question. I turned to the girl. “What’s your name? I should know, see.”
“Oh,” she said; then brusquely: “Clara.”
Clara…Clara Higgins. While I was working out whether that named worked together or not, Mark called out:
“Nice car, isn’t it, Professor?”
“Very nice,” I answered. “But here’s the thing: I wasn’t aware you had passed your driving test.”
He laughed; the girls were silent; we plodded on; we got to the party; we went in.
Now, as soon as we went in, there was a chap there, taking garments and whatnot.
The girls and Mark did their duty, then went upstairs.
I gave the chap my hat.
“Guard it with your lives,” I said.
“Why, sir, important?”
“Not really. But I’d hate to lose it.”
Then I was in the party.
Now the cool thing was this: The girls and Mark had disappeared, so I was sorta on my own.
I ran into Fats Henry first.
“Why, why, why,” he boomed. “Look who it is! Who invited you here? Not that you’re not welcome…I’m just curious!”
“Look here,” I said, “the people who invited me have disappeared and I really don’t want to find them.”
Before much else could be said, music started, and then…dancing.
I retreated to a back corner and hid. From my view, I saw Clara looking for me. Mark was gone. And that was an interest.
The professor had to find him.
I went back outside… He was getting in his car!
Faster than a winking from a goose, I jumped on the back. Just in time too, the car took off at a killer speed.
I pulled my ka-bar from my belt and got a good grip. Something to hang on to, see. And the hole was quite small. I doubt anyone would ever notice.
Now, I’m embarrassed to say, as the car went–fastly fast–around a corner, my knife unplugged from the hole and I fell off.
Mark Malone had escaped.
I blame my knife, of course.