“Right as a judge,” said Dicky cheerfully, “Now, if you'll get in with madam we won't be wasting time here.”
I stepped into the carriage. Dicky Nahl closed the door softly and climbed on the seat by the driver, and in a moment we were rolling up Broadway in the gloomy stillness of the early morning hour.
CHAPTER XXIX. THE HEART OF THE MYSTERY
In the tumult of conflicting thoughts that assailed me as we entered on the last stage of our journey, the idea of the perils that might lie ahead fixed my attention for the moment, and I began to feel alarm for the safety of my companion.
“Mrs. Knapp,” I said; “there is no need for you to take this journey. You had better stop in Oakland for the rest of the night.”
“I must go,” she replied.
“There is danger,” I argued. “You should not expose yourself to the chances of a brush with the enemy. It is a wet, cold ride, and there may be bullets flying at the end of it.”
Mrs. Knapp gave a shudder, but she spoke firmly.