CHAPTER XXIV
THE FATE OF SANTENEL.
There was no light on the long wharf down which the sleigh was driven.
“We’ve got him now!” said the driver, twisting round on his seat and speaking to Frank, who was again looking out of the cab door.
“Unless he goes into the water!” was Frank’s startled thought. “A lunatic may be expected to do anything.”
He saw the sleigh reach the end of the wharf and come to a stop at the side of the wharf building, then beheld the driver alight.
A scream came as the driver roughly pulled the muffled figure out after him.
Frank leaned half out of the cab, ready to jump to the ground. The cabman gave the horse an extra cut when he heard the scream, and the cab tore along like mad.
But the man who had been in the sleigh was quick of movement. He dragged the reeling figure toward the water.
Then for the first time Frank saw a large steam-launch tied up at the wharf. Toward this the man hurried. The place was so dark that Frank could not see the faces of those he was pursuing, and when the cab reached the spot occupied by the sleigh the cabman drew in, fearing to risk his horse farther.