rough idea of what those idiots were talking about and it was just some- thing I didn't want to bother with. I broke into a full-fledged gallop and headed for Millie's back door. Fortunately, just as I got there the door opened. I darted in, noticing that a cleaning man or something was preparing to move some trash barrels out into the alley.

I'd barely slipped into a huge closet full of dresses and hid before the cops could be heard on the dead run. Then I heard two mighty "OOF's." I gathered (with no great trouble) that these exclamations came from the police officers colliding with the trash barrels which were probably on their way out when the officers were on their way in. How terribly clumsy, I thought. I decided I'd stay where I was and ig- nore the whole, unfortunate incident.

In a minute the cops came in, brushing themselves off. "Search the goddam place, Charlie" one cop said, "and I'll go find the owner." The other cop said nothing. I gathered he wasn't much of a talker.

I guess Millie came into the back room about that time. I heard the tall cop the one who was always talking-ask her if she'd seen a strange-looking-well-male person run into her shop. Millie hadn't. What's more, she resented the implication that strange looking male persons frequented her place. Especially on a Friday evening with her shop full of good customers. She was prepared to go on at even greater length, it seemed.

"OK" said the tall cop, "Come on, Charlie; forget it. The character must have slipped out the front door or something." They left.

Millie just stood there alone in the back room. I could see her between the dresses I hid behind. Millie took a good, long look all around and kind of smiled to herself. She started back to the showroom then and I called out "S-s-s-t—MILLIE!” in a great stage whisper.

Millie stopped and looked in my direction. "S-s-s-t!" I repeated, not wanting to come out or anything, but needing Millie like crazy! Millie came over and looked in the closet. I parted two of the dresses and looked out. "It's me" I said simply, if ungrammatically.

Millie, large-boned and motherly with close-cropped hair (done stylishly, I'll have you know) took a long, long look at my miserable, desperate countenance framed by her dresses and recognition set in.

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