"You'd better walk!" said the chauffeur. "I haven't any more time to bother with you."
Uncle Ezra begged and pleaded, but the driver was firm.
"Well, I'll tell you what I'll do," said the crabbed old man finally. "I'll pay your price, though I want you to understand that I think it's robbery, but will you throw in some sandwiches for my supper. I'm going to travel all night."
"Oh, yes, I suppose so," finally agreed the chauffeur. "Though it's the first time I've ever given a tip in my own cab. Hop in."
They arrived at Mr. Duncaster's house a little before dusk, and Uncle Ezra rapped on the door. There was a long silence and he knocked again.
"Nobody home I guess," ventured the chauffeur, who was lighting his lamps, preparatory for the trip back.
"Let me try," suggested Dick, and he gave several vigorous blows on the door. Uncle Ezra had rapped lightly, probably so as not to unduly wear out the pair of ancient gloves he was wearing.
This time a window over the front door was opened, and the head of Mr. Duncaster, graced with a nightcap and a tassle, was thrust out.
"What do you want? Go away from here! I've gone to bed!" he shouted. "I'll have you arrested for disturbing the peace! Get away!"
He started to close the window.