Pinkey realized that this man would brook no delay. He was taking him to the station — for that was the order that Pinkey heard him give to the taxi driver.
As the cab pulled away from the curb, the pressure of the automatic relaxed. Slumped back in the seat, Pinkey Baird appeared completely subdued. The cab moved onward a few yards; then stopped at a traffic light, less than half a block from the Club Savilla.
The sight of a uniformed policeman brought a sudden inspiration to Pinkey Baird. He was not in wrong with the police. Perhaps this man was. Why should he let himself be shunted away at the order of a stranger?
Like a flash, Pinkey fell upon the man beside him. Sinewy and wiry, the confidence man was a powerful fighter. He knew that his opponent would not risk a shot.
The swiftness of his attack served him well. With one hand, Pinkey pulled the knob of the door. As his opponent gripped him, Pinkey dove with both hands for the automatic.
The cab was starting forward, its door swinging wide, as Pinkey raised a cry for help. The policeman was dashing for the sidewalk. Pinkey was gripping the muzzle of the gun as he sought to drag the other man toward the door of the cab.
The odds were all in Pinkey Baird's favor. He had raised the shout. His opponent could not stop him now. That gun in the other man's hand would mean trouble for him. It was too late for his enemy to fire, Pinkey reasoned; but in that he was wrong.
A muffled shot occurred within the taxicab. Pinkey's tugging hold relaxed. He toppled away, and plunged headlong through the open door, falling flat in the street.
The door closed, and the startled driver heard a sharp command to drive onward.
Knowing that his remaining passenger was armed, he had no other choice. He slipped the car into gear. The driver did not hear the left door of the cab open and close. The darkened street was filled with stopping cars. The shrill blast of a police whistle sounded from the spot where the cab had been. The way was blocked ahead.