The younger woman placed the child in the hack.
“Climb in, Wainwright,” said I, eying the youngster unfavorably. “Will he travel with us, ma'am? He's rather young.”
“He'll go all right,” said the elder woman with some agitation. “He knows that he must. But treat him carefully. Now good-by.”
“Oakland Ferry, driver,” I cried, as I stepped into the hack and slammed the door. And in a moment we were dashing out into New Montgomery Street, and with a turn were on Market Street, rolling over the rough cobbles toward the bay.
CHAPTER XXII. TRAILED
“Did you see him?” asked Wainwright, as the hack lurched into Market Street and straightened its course for the ferry.
“Who?”
“Tom Terrill. He was behind that big pillar near the arch there. I saw him just as the old lady spoke to you, but before I catches your eye, he cuts and runs.”