“Not too late, am I?” he cried back, clutching the other's arm.
“No, but we must hasten.”
“Captain Quinnox, is it you?”
“Have a care! The storm has ears and can hear names,” cautioned the other. As rapidly as possible they made their way along the black street, almost a river with its sheet of water. Lorry had lost his bearings, and knew not whither he went, trusting to the guidance of his struggling companion. There seemed to be no end to their journey, and he was growing weak beneath the exertion and the excitement.
“How far do we go?” he cried, at last.
“But a few rods. The carriage is at the next corner.”
“Where is the carriage to take me?” he demanded.
“I am not at liberty to say.”
“Am I to see her before I go?”
“That is something I cannot answer, sir. My instructions are to place you in the carriage and ride beside the driver until our destination is reached.”