Macheson nodded and prepared to walk on.
“There is a police-station behind to the left,” he remarked.
Hurd took no notice. He had thrust his arm tightly through the other man’s.
“I have been looking for you,” he said eagerly. “We must have a talk together. We will take this hansom,” he added, hailing one.
The man drew back.
“Are you going to take me to the police-station?” he demanded.
“Police-station, no!” Hurd answered roughly. “What good would that do me? Get in! Café Monico!”