We must have covered at least half the distance before I regained sufficient sanity to realize what we were doing. Then I clutched Bruce by the arm.
"Steady on!" I gasped. "If there's any one looking they'll think we're mad!"
Even as I spoke there came a sharp "teuf teuf!" and instinctively we pulled up. Round the corner of Fitz-John Villas bowled a solitary taxi, the driver leaning back comfortably in his seat and smoking a big cigar.
"Hi!" we yelled in unison.
Some note of unusual urgency in our summons must have attracted him, for he at once applied his brakes. Having done this, however, he recollected himself, and, removing his cigar, spat pleasantly in the roadway.
"Nothin' doin', guv'nor!" he said, with a kind of gloomy satisfaction. "Just orf to the garrige."
"You must!" I said desperately. "We're in a hurry, we can't wait! I'll give you a sovereign!"
"A suvrin!" he repeated dully. "Where d'yer want to go to?"
"Piccadilly Circus," I blurted out. It was the first place that came into my head.
He stared at me, and then something like a look of sympathy crept into his face.