To his great surprise, he seemed to create no sensation whatever. No one even noticed him as he joined the throng, with Ida May clinging tightly to his arm.
"I will give them some little trouble to find us," he thought to himself.
He knew of a quiet, aristocratic family hotel facing the park, and placing Ida in a carriage, he took a seat beside her, and directed the driver to proceed as quickly as possible to the place indicated.
Whirling through the streets of gay New York was quite a sensation to Ida, who had never been outside of her own country village, save for that fateful trip to Newport.
With Royal clasping her two little fluttering hands in one of his strong white ones, his left arm holding her close as the cab rattled up Broadway, her fear of the noise, the great rush of people hurrying hither and thither, and the great crush of vehicles that threatened to demolish them every moment, gradually subsided as they rode along.
They reached their destination, and a moment more were ushered into the little white-and-gold parlor.
"We will have the best breakfast that they can prepare," said Royal, "and then I shall take you to see the sights of the city."
He was obliged to take the hotel clerk into his confidence.
"It's an elopement," he whispered in the clerk's ear. "My bride is the heiress of the wealthy Mays, of Boston. There may be a deuce of a row when they trace us to this place, but it will end all right by the fatted calf being killed for us. But as for the breakfast, how long will it take to prepare it?"