CHAPTER I
THE WRECK OF THE TAXICAB
The young woman in the taxicab scuttling frantically down the dark street, clung to the arm of the young man alongside, as if she were terrified at the lawbreaking, neck-risking speed. But evidently some greater fear goaded her, for she gasped:
"Can't he go a little faster?"
"Can't you go a little faster?" The young man alongside howled as he thrust his head and shoulders through the window in the door.
But the self-created taxi-gale swept his voice aft, and the taut chauffeur perked his ear in vain to catch the vanishing syllables.
"What's that?" he roared.
"Can't you go a little faster?"
The indignant charioteer simply had to shoot one barbed glare of reproach into that passenger. He turned his head and growled: