“But some one, surely, must have seen what became of him. If he fell off his box in a fit, where is his body?”
“I seed him one hinstant,” cried a voice from the crowd, “I wur lookin straight at ’im, ’cos I sed to myself, taint often as yer see a kebby wear a white ’at, now-a-days. Then, while I wur starin’ at ’im, he sort o’ disappeared, the reins fell on the roof o’ the keb, the ’oss stopped, an—”
“He’s gone!” shrieked a woman’s voice.
It was Rachael. Bare-headed, dressed in all her festal finery, she had just rushed down the steps of the house, and heard the question and answer as to the disappearance of the hansom driver. The crowd turned and faced her, her shrill tones had startled them.
“He’s gone to Jehovah!” she screamed again. “My husband, my sister, my two children—we were at Passover—we——”
With a piercing shriek she flung up her arms, laughed hideously and fell in a huddled heap on the bottom step of the flight.
CHAPTER XXIV.
“THIS SAYING SHALL COME TO PASS.”
Tom Hammond greeted his sub most heartily. Ralph had been away, in Paris, for a fortnight, partly on business, partly for a change.
As soon as their greetings were exchanged, he turned eagerly to Hammond, as he said:—