“It was near daylight when the second one came to me and, getting in the coach, went down to the corner of Rivington Street.
“Waiting there ten minutes, the first one came up running, jumped into his coach with something in his hands, and told me to drive like the devil up Fourth Avenue.
“When we got as far as Twenty-third Street, they stopped me, gave me a twenty-dollar bill, and went off down Twenty-third Street to Third Avenue.
“I drove home.”
“Were you followed by anybody?”
“Yes,” replied the man, with a look of surprise. “There was a coach that stuck close to us all night.”
“Did the men you were riding know it?”
“No,” replied the man. “A fellow came out of the other coach when I was in Fourth Street and told me he’d break my head if I let the other fellows know that he was following—and he meant it, too.”
Patsy laughed.
“It wasn’t anything to laugh about,” said the man. “If you’d seen him, you wouldn’t have laughed.”