MAYNARD’S hail was lost in the exhaust from a nearby automobile and he watched the taxi-cab bearing René La Montagne continue down M Street with mixed feelings, then started at a rapid walk in the direction the cab was going. At Seventeenth Street he saw an empty car, bearing the placard “For hire,” coming toward him and promptly stopped the chauffeur.
“See if you can catch up with that car ahead,” he directed, pointing to La Montagne’s taxi which could just be seen, and sprang into the automobile. But the chauffeur, evidently one of the many inexperienced men who had joined the great army of licensed motorists to supply the public need of vehicles, had stalled his engine and when the car finally started down M Street La Montagne’s taxi was nowhere in sight.
As they whirled around Thomas Circle Maynard, who had vented his feelings by swearing a blue streak under his breath at each second’s delay, called to the chauffeur to go to the Burlington apartment, and the man changed his direction with such precipitancy that Maynard was thrown forward. He had just regained his equilibrium as the car turned into the driveway leading to the apartment-hotel.
“Has Captain La Montagne returned?” he asked the doorman.
“Yes, sir, just arrived,” and the man touched his cap respectfully. “Wish to see him, sir?”
“Yes.” Maynard paused in getting out of his car and scanned the numerous motors parked along the curbing. “Is Captain La Montagne’s taxi waiting for him?”
“No, sir. The chauffeur picked up a party just leaving when the Captain said he shouldn’t want him again to-day, and drove off.”
Maynard stared blankly at the doorman. Should he go in and see La Montagne or try and locate Sam, the taxi-driver, first? His inclination was for the latter course.
“Which way did the taxi go?” he asked.
“’Deed I didn’t notice, sir.” The doorman was too respectful to show the surprise he felt at the continued questioning. “Another car drove up and I went to open the door for the ladies in it. Do you wish to get out, sir?”