“Oh, stop, stop!” I cried, in agony, as I jumped up. “There is some mistake. Where is Monsieur Achille—the gentleman who was with me?”
“That clinches what didn’t want no clinching, my dear,” said the horrid wretch, shouting at me, for the cab made so much noise—“that clinches it, my dear. I hadn’t a doubt before; and as to now, why, it’s right as right, and there’s no mistake. Now sit down, my dear. I shan’t hurt you, so don’t be frightened; and it’s of no use for you to try and jump out, because I don’t mean to let you. There now, see what you’ve done—you’ve broke the window! Not very surprising, though, for they always makes cab windows of the thinnest glass they can get hold of for the benefit of their fares. Make a handsome thing out of the profits, some owners do, being mostly broken by noisy swells who can pay up. Helps the shoeing bill, you know, my dear. Now, do sit still. What a struggling little bird it is!”
I was horrified and mad; for the wretch had caught me in his arms as I started from my seat and beat at the window till it fell shattered to pieces; but in spite of my struggles he held me down upon the seat by his side.
“It’s all right, my dear Miss Laura Bozerne. And you needn’t be in the least bit afraid of me; for I’m an old married man, sent by some one you know very well, working under the advice of my wife, and I’m to be depended upon. So sit still, my little dove, you’re saved out of the hawk’s claws this time.”
What could I do but sink back with a hysterical sob, my mind in a state of chaos? I really, I’m sure, did not know then whether I was pleased or sorry, though I had felt it incumbent upon me to struggle a little at first. I’m sure my brains were all anyhow, as I wondered who the man was by my side, and where he was taking me. Had Achille betrayed me and fled? Oh, no—impossible! Papa must have taken steps to stop us; and this wretch by my side was, I felt sure, a detective.
Up and down street after street, all dark, dismal, and deserted, as I could see when the wretch rubbed the steaming glass with his sleeve. The lamps were all burning; and here and there we passed a policeman, and, every time the light shone upon their wet capes, fresh tears gushed from my eyes as I thought of Achille and his probable fate. Then, too, I thought again of where they were bearing me. Was I to be imprisoned—taken before a magistrate? Oh, it was horrible! and the long, jangling ride seemed as though it would never end.
“Now, that’s what I call sensible, my dear,” said the wretch, all at once—shouting so that I’m sure the driver could almost have heard. “Some people, you see, never do know when they’re took, but keep on fighting agen it when there’s no more chance of getting away than flying. That’s right, take it coolly, and a good cry will do you no end of good, I dare say.”
Then, finding me quiet and resigned, my captor appeared to take but little more notice of me, only turning his head my way from time to time as we passed a lamp. I would have given anything to have known where we were going; but, of course, under the circumstances, I could not summon courage enough to ask; but at last I seemed to recognise places that we passed, first one and then another becoming familiar, till it seemed almost like returning home from a ball. And—yes—no—yes—no—yes, it was our own house before which we had driven up, and the driver was ringing furiously at the bell!
Oh, yes, it was all plain enough now. I had been entrapped and brought home, and I knew that I had betrayed myself by my own folly.
“Oh, Achille, Achille!” I murmured.