CHAPTER VII
As the man in the limousine jumped out his chauffeur pointed his hand menacingly at the chauffeur on the taxicab seat. That individual raised his arms without resistance. He could not see the gun, but he knew it was there.
The man with the straw-colored hair swung open the door of the taxicab ferociously—to find the cab empty. He whirled back into the limousine, which was already moving. The right mud-guard was badly crumpled.
"Station—all the power you've got!"
Tricked. He understood what had happened. When the taxis had maneuvered into the side-street the original middle car had gone either to the front or to the rear. There was nothing for it but to play his last card—mistaken identity. To get Mathison away from his luggage for an hour or two.
The occupant of the fourth taxi, also comprehending what had taken place, picked up the speaking-tube and ordered full speed ahead.
"Sarah, this young man will bear watching. He has ideas. I doubt if I shall be necessary to him at all."
"If madame should be hurt...."