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THE PINK ELEPHANT " I DON'T GET it, Old Iron ! " complained Johnny Lister. The only effect his vehemence had on Bill Cromwell was an added pressure on the arm as the latter piloted him firmly through the garish foyer of the Pink Elephant Night Club. Johnny, feebly resisting, felt that he had a grievance. This overblown place did not interest him at all ; he hated it; it was far too respectable. He was still at a loss to understand why Cromwell, driving home with him after coming off duty, should have suddenly advised him to swing round in the middle of Piccadilly and finally park the car a hundred yards away from the Pink Elephant in Shaftesbury Avenue. He surrendered his hat and overcoat grudgingly, and showed his distaste in no uncertain manner as his malevolent-featured companion led him to a table. It was a fashionable place, this Pink Elephant; a |