“To give you a horsewhipping!” cried a man with a masked face, springing up on the footboard, and clutching the inquirer by the collar.
A piteous cry from Mr Swinton—for it was he—did not hinder him from being dragged out of his hansom, and receiving a chastisement he would remember to his dying day!
His driver, leaping from the box, made show to interfere. But he was met by another driver equally eager, and somewhat stronger; who, seizing him by the throat, did not let go his hold of him till he had fairly earned the additional sovereign!
A policeman who chanced to overhear the piteous cries of Swinton, came straddling up to the spot; but only after the scuffle had ended, and the wheels of a swift cab departing through the thick fog told him he was too late to take the aggressor into custody!
The spy proceeded no farther.
After being disembarrassed of the policeman, he was but too happy to be driven back to the villa in South Bank.