The police cruiser pulls up in front of the main terminal at Midway Airport. Roger and the two police officers get out of the car and head into the terminal, at the Northwest ticket office.
“Said he meet right here,” says the police officer who was driving.
“Would anyone mind if I sit down? I’ve been running all day,” says Roger.
Suddenly, the Professor runs up to the Northwest ticket counter and pushes a folded wallet at the agent. The agent hands the Professor several tickets. Next, the Professor talks to the police officers.
“Ah!” says The Professor. “Thought I’d never make it. I’m getting too old for this kind of work.” He flashes an ID to the police officer who was driving. “All right, men. Thank you.” He tuns to Roger without looking at the police officers. “This way, Mister Thornhill.” The Professor steers Thornhill toward the departure gate.
“Now, wait a minute,” says Thornhill.
“We haven’t much time,” explains the Professor, continuing to direct Thornhill to the gate. “This way is more private.”
They exit to the airfield.
“I don’t think I caught your name,” says Thornhill.
“I don’t think I’ve pitched it,” says The Professor.
“You’re police, aren’t you?” asks Thornhill, “or is it FBI?”