The man’s blank look slowly yielded to a glimmering of reason.
“Oh, yes,” he muttered, “I—I remember. The young chap hired me at Herald Square. I was to take him to the Flatiron Building, pick up another fare, and then go along the Pelham Road as far as Rye. I guess I’ve got that straight.”
“Sure it was at Herald Square that the young fellow hired you?”
“Yes, I’m positive of it.”
The driver was getting back his wits by swift degrees.
“What was the matter with you?” asked Matt.
“Sort of a fit. I used to have ’em a whole lot, but this is the first that’s come on me for purty nigh six months. No matter what I’m doin’, I jest drop an’ don’t know a thing for a minute or two; then, after I come out of it, I’m gen’rally a little while piecin’ things together.”
“You shouldn’t be driving a taxicab, if you’re subject to such spells.”
“Thought I’d got over ’em. I won’t have another, now, for two or three weeks, anyway. Didn’t you see me when I tumbled from the seat?”