Manager S. J. Ballinger of Dunhill's Manhattan store reluctantly nodded to a clerk. The clerk hopped out to the teeming corner of 5th Avenue & 43rd Street to summon the busy traffic officer. The officer set off smartly down West 43rd Street.
"Hey, Romanoff!" the policeman cried to a rapidly vanishing little man in skiing corduroys and horn-rimmed glasses. "Hey, Romanoff, come back here!"
The little man stopped, faced the officer. "My name is not Romanoff," he said in lofty Oxonian. "It's Gerguson."
"We've got to go to the station, Romanoff," the policeman insisted....
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