"My Gawd, it's Mr. Anson!"
For the first time the driver saw Philip's face clearly.
"Ah, you know me then? Who were those blackguards who employed you?"
"S'elp me, sir, I on'y know one of 'em. 'E's a Mr. Victor Grenier. I offen pick 'im up at the Gardenia. 'E said 'is pal was sweet on the young lydy an' wanted a put-up job ter 'elp 'er. That's all, guv'nor, on me life."
"You ought to be ashamed of yourself," was Philip's only comment.
He rejoined the girl, who was watching the retreating brougham.
"Now," he cried, pleasantly, "you can go home."
"Please drive me there. I will not deprive you of your cab."
So they drove away together, and the driver of the hansom, striving to free his vehicle from the broken trestles, paused to scratch his head.
"'E fairly bested the crowd," he growled, "an' got the girl as well. My eye, but she's a beauty."