“I'd rather see her dead,” said the old cab driver brokenly.
John Bruce made no answer.
Then Hawkins, gulping his words, spoke again:
“I—where'll I drive you?”
John Bruce started blindly on past Hawkins down the street.
“Nowhere,” he said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO—THROUGH THE NIGHT
A GAUNT and haggard figure stalked through the night; around him only shuttered windows, darkened houses, and deserted streets. The pavements rang hollow to the impact of his boot-heels. Where the way lay open he went. But always he walked, walked incessantly, without pause, hurrying—nowhere.