"Your uncle's, or Albany, I should say."
We were silent again. It did not seem to me possible that Madison Place could be so far off. While I was fretting about the distance, I heard a whistle like that with which one calls his dog, three times repeated. I should not have noticed it, if the carriage had not stopped in the middle of the street immediately after I heard it. The halt was but for an instant—long enough to permit a man to get on the box with the driver.
"How much farther is it to Madison Place?" I demanded again.
"Only a little piece," answered the surly driver; but he seemed to be more pliable now.
I looked out at the window again. The houses were meaner and more scattered than before, and there were no signs of a mansion fit for the residence of a wealthy merchant. I began to wonder who the man was on the box with the driver, and why he had whistled. I changed my position to the front seat, under the window, which I had opened to enable me to speak to the driver.
I began to have a suspicion that something was wrong, and I determined to investigate as far as it was possible to do so. I waited to hear if anything was said by the two men on the box. I listened eagerly and painfully, for my suspicions almost made me mad. I reviewed the circumstances under which we had left the hotel. The letter was signed by Mr. Loraine, and the driver told me he had brought it from Madison Place.
My heart rose up into my throat, as the conviction flashed upon my mind that Kate and I were the victims of some villanous scheme. The rascally driver could not have gone to Madison Place in the time that intervened between his two calls at the hotel, if Madison Place was farther off than we had yet gone. I was so nervous and restless that Kate fathomed my painful anxiety. She could not help believing by this time that something was wrong.
"O, Ernest Thornton!" exclaimed she, when it was no longer possible for her to keep still.
"Don't be alarmed, Kate," I replied; but I was fearfully alarmed myself.
"Where are we going?"