But as Soapy set foot inside the restaurant door the head waiter's eye fell upon his frayed trousers and decadent shoes.
Soapy took a cobblestone and dashed it through the glass.
said Soapy, not without sarcasm, but friendly, as one greets good fortune.
The policeman's mind refused to accept Soapy even as a clue.
Into this place Soapy took his accusive shoes and telltale trousers without challenge.
Neatly upon his left ear on the callous pavement two waiters pitched Soapy.
Five blocks Soapy travelled before his courage permitted him to woo capture again.
With half an eye Soapy saw that the policeman was watching him fixedly.
The persecuted young woman had but to beckon a finger and Soapy would be practically en route for his insular haven.
With the young woman playing the clinging ivy to his oak Soapy walked past the policeman overcome with gloom.
A sudden fear seized Soapy that some dreadful enchantment had rendered him immune to arrest.
On the sidewalk Soapy began to yell drunken gibberish at the top of his harsh voice.
The policeman twirled his club, turned his back to Soapy and remarked to a citizen.
Soapy stepped inside, secured the umbrella and sauntered off with it slowly.
Soapy did likewise, with a presentiment that luck would again run against him.