"Step aside, boy!" ordered the unknown man, as he tried to brush
Dave away and enter the cab.
It was no time for gentle measures. Ensign Darrin's right fist landed heavily on the face of the stranger, sending him prone to the sidewalk.
At a wave of Dave's hand the chauffeur started away. Scenting trouble, the chauffeur drove as fast as he could down the side street, making the round of the block, then heading into Broadway and going uptown, for the young woman had called out her destination.
As for the stranger whom Dave had knocked down, the fellow was on his feet like a flash. Ignoring Darrin, he tried to dash down the side street after the taxicab.
"Step back!" ordered Dave, catching hold of the fellow, and swinging him around. "You're not going to follow."
"I must have the number of that taxicab," cried the stranger, desperately.
"Too late," smiled Dave, as he saw the taxicab turn the next corner. "You won't learn the number. I happened to see it, though," he added incautiously.
"Give it to me, then," commanded the other. "I'll overlook what you've done if you truthfully give me the number of that taxicab. Find that girl I must, and as early as possible. Though I know her well, and her family, too, I do not know where to look for them in New York."
Dave, without a word, turned as though to walk toward Broadway.
"Give me that taxi's number," insisted the stranger.