“Look out, driver,” said Frank, “that we are not followed. Look back and tell me if you think any one tries it.”
A moment later the driver called down:
“I believe somebody is coming after us in a hansom.”
“Jones!” cried Hilda, clinging to Frank’s arm.
“Dodge that hansom, driver,” said Frank, “and I will give you ten dollars!”
“I’ll try it, sir.”
Into Fortieth Street they whirled, the horse flying along. Down Eighth Avenue they sped for a distance, and then again they turned to the west. Down Ninth Avenue cut the hansom for a single block, and then it doubled back to Eighth.
At every turn Frank and Hilda had been able to look back and see the cab in pursuit, which held after them persistently. That is, at every turn until the double back toward Eighth Avenue. When that was made the other cab had not yet turned the corner into Ninth.
“You are getting away from him, driver!” shouted Frank, having thrust up the little door; but the wheels were rumbling over the rough paving so it is doubtful if the man above heard or understood.
Back to Eighth they went, and the driver promptly turned up the avenue. But he wheeled to the west again at the next corner and was once more driving toward Ninth. Frank laughed with satisfaction.