A moment the Irishman paused, seeming to hesitate; then he stepped forward and entered the cab.
The door slammed, the driver whipped up his horses, and the cab rumbled away.
CHAPTER XXVI.
A SURPRISE FOR FIVE THUGS.
Frank left the hospital on foot. He might have taken a car, but he preferred to walk. Always when thinking deeply he chose to walk, and he often became utterly oblivious to his surroundings, even on the crowded streets of a city.
He now set out without regard to direction. His talk with the Mexican boy had set him to thinking of Porfias del Norte and Alvarez Lazaro, between whom there had seemed to be some mysterious connecting link. The nature of that link was something to puzzle over, even though both men were dead.
Many times Frank had thought of the strange declaration of Lazaro that he was the avenger of Del Norte, even that he was Del Norte himself. Such an assertion seemed that of a madman.
Still Lazaro was in appearance Del Norte grown old, his face time-furrowed, his black hair turned snowy white. More than that, for all of Lazaro's aged appearance, he had seemed to possess the vigor and vim of a very young man. His eyes burned with the fire of youth, and they were exactly like the eyes of Del Norte. His voice also was the voice of Del Norte.
Dusk was gathering in the streets of the great American metropolis, the street lights were beginning to gleam, laborers were homeward bound from their toil.