"'On these occasions,' said I, 'one steers by the pole-star.'
"'Where is it?' he demanded.
"'At this moment, so far as I can judge,' I assured him, 'it is shining accurately on the back of your neck.'
"Of a sudden we found ourselves at the head of a pavement lined with the red stern-lights of a rank of cabs and taxis. I had not the vaguest notion of its name: but the street was obviously one of those curious ones, unsuspected, and probably non-existent by day, in which lurk the vehicles that can't be discovered when it's raining and you want to get home from a theatre. 'Glow-worms!' announced Farrell.
"I tightened my grip under his funny-bone, and hailed the first vehicle. It was a hansom. 'Engaged?' I asked.
"'All depends where you're going, sir,' said the cabby.
"'Wimbledon,' shouted Farrell, and broke away from me. 'Wimbledon for pleasure and the simple life!… You'll excuse me—' he dodged towards the back of the cab: 'on these occasions— always make a point take number.'
"'It's all right,' I spoke up to the cabman. 'My friend means the Ritz. I'm taking him there.'
"'I shouldn't, if I was you,' said the man sourly; 'not unless he's an American.'
"'He is,' said I, 'and from Texas. I am charged to deliver him at the Ritz, where all will be explained': and I dashed around to the rear of the cab, collared Farrell, and hoicked him inboard.…