“He’ll be a good one if he slips me!” was the driver’s assertion, which he began to make good by sending the cab forward at a swinging pace.
Frank, looking from the cab door, beheld the sleigh again. It had reentered a street running parallel with Chapel and was flying on.
“I never saw anything quite so queer,” was Frank’s conclusion. “If the man isn’t crazy, it looks as if he wants me to follow him.”
“There it goes!” called cabby. “Shall I just follow it, or try to catch it?”
“Try to catch it!”
“Ga-ed up!”
The whip cracked, and the hackney stretched out at a gallop.
It was a strange chase through the New Haven streets—a chase that began to draw attention. The sleigh was keeping to the less-frequented thorough-fares, apparently for the double reason of attracting less notice and of getting better, and therefore faster, sleighing. On Chapel Street the wear of travel and traffic had well-nigh dissipated the snow.
The darkness of fast-gathering night had deepened, but the streets were fairly well lighted, and the cabman found no great difficulty in keeping the sleigh in view, though he could not overtake it.
Frank’s alarm increased. There were no indications that Inza was calling to any one for help, and this strange silence could mean nothing to him but that she was unconscious and unable to call.