loudly on the tar walk. He slipped quickly out of sight into the brush that grew beside the fox cage. Feeling like a fool, Jim waited. The heavy slouching figure of George Lardner heaved into sight. One of the keepers, trimly uniformed, was at his side. They stopped before the cage and engaged in hurried conversation. The keeper nodded several times and Lardner passed him a bill.

"Tonight," Drake heard him say in a low voice. "Make sure it's unlocked."

They were gone up the little incline when he stepped out on the path once more. Drake had been forced to make a decision.

n spite of his addiction to the bottle, Jim Drake's body was hard and supple as he raced toward the car. Digging around in the trunk he brought out a sharp file. Thank God for Puffy Adams and his early safe cracking days. Returning to the cage he made sure no one was about. The door was a strong affair behind the inner building, hidden on the side of the hill. He started to file hurriedly on the Yale that held the bolt in place.

The fox came toward him and sat down patiently just inside the door. Its eyes never left his face as he worked. The curve of the lock separated and with a quick motion he tossed it from him. The animal came out swiftly as he opened the door. It trotted at his heels and they kept to the underbrush, running toward the car.

Pushing the door open with shaking hands, Drake said, "In—quickly, and stay on the floor."

The beautiful animal leaped and settled close to the floor boards. Drake rounded the car and in a minute they were purring swiftly toward the main highway.

From behind him somewhere in Wildwood Zoo, a sharp cry of alarm went up. His theft had been detected. In five minutes the roads to town would be blocked by police patrols.

Jim's forehead wrinkled into tight furrows. The coupe was doing eighty-five. With one hand he reached down and petted the fox's smooth head.

"You snap at me," he warned, "and I'll send you back to your cage."

A warm tongue touched his hand softly.

The police sirens were dying now, and he breathed with relief as they passed the city limits and swept into heavy traffic. Slowing down a little, his forehead smoothed out and a sly smile swept across his face. Fifteen minutes later Drake eased the car into the alley behind the apartment hotel.

There was no one on duty at the freight elevator. With the silver fox in his arms Drake made a hurried entrance and shortly they reached the private floor of his apartment. He placed the animal carefully on the floor and with his key opened the door.

Puffy Adams was stretched across the bed. His eyes opened with a jerk at the sight of Jim's passenger, and he drew himself toward the safety of the far end of the bed.

"Well," Puffy said hesitantly. "If you go for this kind 'a thing it's okay with me. Just keep that four-legged Dracula away from me. No more blood-letting this week, please."

Jim ignored him. He locked the door swiftly and turned on the fox.

"You can come out now," he said. "It's safe here."

he animal crossed the thick rug with a bound, pounced to the bed with a stealthy spring and curled into a little ball of fur. Its eyes closed and it was motionless.

"I'll be damned." Drake slouched down in the leather chair beside the cocktail table and dragged out a much smoked pipe. "That's gratitude for you."

Puffy gazed with growing respect and admiration for the faults of the insane.

"I suppose," he suggested, "that you expected that pint-sized bundle of fur to kick one foot, toss off her coat and do a snake dance right here in the bedroom?"

Drake sat motionless. Smoke