From the very start I had done my best to get a general idea of the direction we were taking by noting the corners we had turned indicated by the swaying of the car this way or that. It seemed to me that we were going east and south. But owing to stops and very gentle starts which might have been turns to left or right, I could not be certain. Besides, I had to pay some attention to what I was saying to my host. He grew more animated as we talked, and kept me busy making intelligent replies. It almost seemed as though he wanted to prevent me from taking any note of our progress.
I did notice one thing, however. In the course of our tide, there came a hollow quality in the sound of the traffic round us at about the same time that we began to pull up along grade. This continued until we had topped it and dropped down a decline of about the same length, as near as I could tell. And I knew what that meant. It meant that we had crossed one of the bridges over the East River and were passing through Brooklyn.
But there, as one generally does in Brooklyn, I lost finally my sense of direction altogether and turned my attention entirely to Ivanovitch.
He talked on agreeably for half an hour or so. By this time I noticed that practically all sounds of traffic had ceased. The car we were in was a powerful one and very silent running, so that it was easy to detect the sound of any passing vehicle.
A little later, Ivanovitch gave me a swift but fleeting glance and leaned forward, taking a speaking tube from its hook. He spoke into it for a moment or two, and I cursed my ignorance of Russian. But the car immediately slowed up a good deal and we rode along almost silently.
“Please do not talk now,” Ivanovitch said to me. “You see, there is always the danger of being followed, and this necessitates taking certain precautions, So we will listen for a time, if you don’t mind.”
He reached up and opened a little shuttered window in the back of the tonneau. First he looked out and then he turned his head sideways to listen.
I was in a fever of excitement. All through the ride I had been playing, in the back of my mind, with the thought of seeing Natalie again, of finding Moore and Larry, and possibly even finding and rescuing my little sister. But now at this new move my mind flew to Pride and the importance of his successful pursuit; for I had not the slightest idea where we were. And in the bottom of my heart I was satisfied now that Ivanovitch knew who I was and was simply taking me to this party to get me into safe hands. It had all been too easy. Therefore the only hope lay in Pride being able to trace me successfully and get me out of it along with the others. For I had little confidence in my chances of getting out of it by myself, once they had me there in their hands and probably badly outnumbered.
I got up silently back of my host and managed to catch a glimpse out of the corner of the open window over his head. But it was pitch dark outside now. There were no street lights where we were, and I could see nothing at all. “Anybody there?” I whispered, and tried to edge Ivanovitch away from the window.
He turned swiftly and shut the window. “My friend,” he said in his even tone, “you will be entirely silent, if you please. And do not attempt to look out of the window again, eh?”