“I get you, sir,” was his comment. “Leave it to me.”
In the meantime the stout person had given the tipsy one a final departing shove, and now he stood aside, with thumbs crooked in the armpits of his vest, his face glowing with the consciousness of a job well performed. His victim picked himself up with great difficulty and looked about him with groggy eyes while loudly proclaiming how he would avenge the affront.
“Cab, sir?” invitingly inquired the jehu.
The inebriate one careened forward, blinked his eyes and, with head wagging limply from side to side, gave the hansom a slanting look. Evidently it met his approval, for he nodded and staggered closer. The driver jumped from the box and obligingly assisted his new fare to the seat. A moment later the cab was dashing away from the curb, followed by the amused glances of several spectators.
The tipsy passenger, sprawling lumpishly in his seat, rolled a little to one side as the conveyance turned a corner. To his amazement his head struck someone’s shoulder; then a firm, low voice spoke in his ear:
“Tommie Granger, you’re just the person I have been looking for.”
CHAPTER XIV—THOMAS GRANGER
Slowly and with difficulty the intoxicated man straightened himself and looked unsteadily at his companion. They were in a dark street and their faces were indistinct.
“Shay,” demanded the tipsy one, “thish ish my cab. Get out!”
“Now, Granger,” replied the Phantom with a chuckle, “you surely don’t mind giving a fellow a lift? By the way, where do you think you are going?”