The person addressed came up as Mr. Lane descended from the carriage.
"I understand," said Lane, "that you received a lady and child in your carriage, last night, from the New York line. Where did you take them?"
"Who said that I did?" boldly inquired the man addressed.
"I said so!" as firmly replied the driver who had given the information to Mr. Lane. "What interest have you in denying it?"
Murphy evinced some surprise at this, and looked a little dashed, but repeated his denial.
A new fear instantly seized Mr. Lane. His wife might have been entrapped into some den of infamy, through means of the driver she had employed to convey her to an hotel. The thought affected him like an electric shock.
"You are certain of what you say?" asked Mr. Lane, turning to the hackman he had employed.
"Certain," was answered positively.
"Is there a police officer near at hand?" was the next inquiry. This was intended as no threat; and Murphy understood its meaning.
The eyes of Mr. Lane were fixed on his face, and he saw in it a guilty change. No reply being made to the question about a police officer, Mr. Lane said, addressing the accused hackman—