“Nothing at all, perhaps.”
“I always do what Mollie says. She hurried to the taxicab and stuck her head through the door. She shook hands with some one, too, as well as I could tell. Then the bally chauffeur shoved her into the car, or so it looked to me, and bounded to his seat and drove away at top speed. Dash it, what d’ye think of that?”
“What did you think of it?” Nick inquired.
“I was so beastly hard hit I couldn’t think,” cried the Englishman. “I chased after the bally cab as fast as possible, hoping it would stop and let Mollie down, but it sped out of sight into the park, and here I am. I’m deuced well convinced there’s something wrong. Mollie wouldn’t bolt off in that fashion. She’s above serving me a scurvy trick. She——”
“One moment,” Nick again interposed. “You feel quite sure, you say, that you saw the chauffeur force your wife into the cab?”
“It looked jolly well like it, Mr. Carter.”
“Did you hear her speak, or utter a cry?”
“I did not, sir.”
“Were there other persons near the taxicab at the time?”
“None nearer than I, sir, nor quite as near. I ran after it as fast as I could. I felt cock-sure, even then, it was a beastly job of some kind.”