CHAPTER VI. THE SHADOW STRIKES!
THE cab was speeding up Broadway. The bright lights of the White Way were reflected in the puddles that were forming on the street, for the downpour had increased shortly after Clyde Burke had left the Marimba Apartments.
Now, in the back of the cab, Burke felt strangely weak. It must have been the trip down on the elevator, he thought; for he had been quite alert when he had entered the cab, and had given his address to the driver.
Now he experienced a tired sensation in the back of his head. The driver had closed the windows of the cab, including the partition between the front and the back. Perhaps that accounted for this weakness.
He reached to one window and tried to open it, but the knob would not turn. He tried the other window, with no result. He reached forward to tap on the partition; then dizziness seized him, and he sank back in the seat.
He heard the motor coughing. The driver must have choked it too much, Burke decided. Then he began to think of his interview with Doctor Palermo, and his mind became a curious medley of jumbled thoughts.
The cab pulled up at a traffic light. A coupe ran alongside of it, almost jamming the fender. Burke could see the taxi driver glare at the coupe; then the light changed.
The cab swung suddenly to the right. Burke heard the screaming of brakes, and managed to look back in time to see the coupe make a sudden swerve in the center of the street. It seemed to avoid two other cars almost miraculously; then it followed in the wake of the cab.
After that, Burke became indifferent to what went on. The cab darted into a side street and sped at reckless speed. Behind it loomed the lights of the coupe.
The cab passed a light as it turned from green to red. Thirty feet behind it came the coupe, ignoring the red light. The shrill sound of a policeman’s whistle reached Burke’s ears, but he did not open his eyes.