"Let me try it," he said. "Miss Dodge, will you arrange that spark and throttle?"
Elaine, equal to anything, did so, and Craig bent down and cranked the engine. It started on the first spin.
"See!" he exclaimed. "There wasn't anything, after all."
He took a step toward the taxicab.
"Say," objected the driver, nastily, interposing himself between Craig and the wheel which he seemed disposed to take now, "who's running this boat, anyhow?"
Surprised, Kennedy tried to shoulder the fellow out of the way. The driver resisted sullenly.
"Mr. Kennedy—look out!" cried Elaine.
Craig turned. But it was too late. The rough looking fellow had wakened to life. Suddenly he stepped up behind Kennedy with a blackjack. As the heavy weight descended, Craig crumpled up on the ground, unconscious.
With a scream, Elaine turned and started to run. But the chauffeur seized her arm.
"Say, bo," he asked of the rough fellow, "what does Clutching Hand want with her? Quick! There's another cab likely to be along in a moment with that fellow Jameson in it."