The hansom was at last under the ugly framework of the Elevated almost at the South Ferry gate. The tide was coming in strongly, and there was a salt savor in the breeze that blew up from the lower bay. The prisoner relished it as he filled his lungs with the fresh air; and then he asked himself how long it would be before that saline taste would touch his nostrils again.
As the cab drew up, the elder of the two men in it laid his hand on the arm of the younger.
“I can trust you without the wristlets, can’t I?” he asked.
The other flushed. “Put them on if you want,” he answered, “but you needn’t. I’m not going to make a fool of myself again. I’ve told you I’m going to plead guilty and do everything else I can to get the thing over as soon as possible.”
The gray-eyed man looked at him firmly.
“You’re talking sense,” he declared. “I’ll trust you.”
As they were about to step out, their horse was somewhat startled by an electric automobile that rolled past clumsily and drew up immediately in front of them.
The prisoner stood stock-still, with his foot vainly reaching out for the sidewalk, as he saw the brother of the woman he loved help her out of the vehicle. Then the brother asked a newsboy to point the way to the boat for Governors Island; and she went with him as the urchin eagerly guided them. She did not look around; she never saw the man who loved her; and in a minute she turned the corner and was out of sight.
The officer of the law tapped his prisoner on the arm again.
“Come on,” he said. “What’s the matter with you? Have you seen a ghost?”