Regardless of Alcatrante, who was following them, Orme hailed the chauffeur. “Will you take a fare?” he called.
The man stopped his car and after a moment of what Orme interpreted as indecision, nodded slowly.
“How much by the hour?” asked Orme.
The chauffeur held up the ten fingers of his two hands.
Orme looked at the girl. He hadn’t that much money with him.
“If I only had time to cash a check,” he said.
“All right,” she whispered. “I have plenty.”
They got into the tonneau, and the girl, leaning forward, said: “Take the Lake Shore Drive and Sheridan Road to Evanston.”
Again the chauffeur nodded, without turning toward them.
“He doesn’t waste many words,” whispered the girl to Orme.