"But I wanted to give you the message. I thought you ought to know."
"I understand that, but I wished my presence here to be unknown to anyone. You made a serious mistake. I only hope that no harm will come of it."
"But—how could harm come of it?"
"You drove here in one of the hotel's regular cabs, I suppose?"
"Yes."
"Then the people I am trying to avoid may trace me here, through the driver of that cab."
"Oh—Richard—I'm so sorry. Isn't there anything I can do?"
"Nothing, now, except to make no further attempt to communicate with me here. Good-by."
Grace returned to her hotel, very thoroughly dissatisfied with what she had done. It seemed to her that by trying to warn Richard of possible danger, she might only have brought it upon him. Apparently he had left their hotel, to avoid the very persons who had telephoned the warning message to her. She arrived at the door, got out of the cab in which she had made the journey, and looked about, hoping that the cabman who had driven her uptown might now be at his usual stand. To her delight, she saw that he was.
She went up to the man, a slim, keen looking young Irishman, and engaged him in conversation.