He came to with a start just as I was yanking open the door.
“Hold on a minute, mister,” stammered the man, “I’m engaged.”
I glanced at his “clock.” Sure enough, his “vacant” sign was down. He was waiting for somebody.
“Bill, yonder, ain’t got no fare,” offered the driver, thumbing in the direction of the car beyond. “He’ll carry ye.”
And next minute I had given directions to “Bill,” who cranked forthwith; and, speed having evidently showed in my attitude, we turned the corner almost on two wheels. But my ear caught the whir of the first car as it, in turn, was started.
I might have saved myself some anxiety had I stopped to think that, near midnight as it was, the streets were free from traffic. There is something in me that delights in speed, and that ride was a little slice of joy in itself. We reached the station in plenty of time for my train.
I broke the twenty-dollar bill I had so easily earned that afternoon, and secured my berth before boarding the Pullman.
Some impulse prompted me to turn my head just as I was passing through the gate entrance to trains; and the station, at this hour, was deserted enough for me to note the fact that another man stood before the Pullman ticket window, his back toward me. Once aboard the sleeping car, I slipped a quarter into the eagerly expectant palm of the dusky attendant, and said: “Make up number seven, George,” and then passed up the aisle into the smoking room.
I had been on a steady and momentous jump since the minute I had clapped my eyes on the launch at a quarter to five. I must run over things a bit; and I reasoned that the two dark-hued panetelas that still remained unbroken in my upper vest pocket would help.
What I wondered at was my own attitude in the matter of this chase. Where did I stand? Here I was, without any data whatever as to what he was wanted for, virtually throwing myself into the chase of a man who had shown himself closely related in some way to a girl whom I had, in a most freakish and outlandish manner, fallen in love with. Why?