"Watch! WATCH!" cried the chauffeur.
There was no word between them for a moment; then Jimmie Dale spoke
crisply:
"It's turned the corner! It's coming this way!"
The taxicab was rocking violently with the speed; silent, empty, Lower
Broadway stretched away ahead. Apart from an occasional street car,
probably there would be nothing between them and the Battery. Jimmie
Dale glanced at his companion's face as a light, flashing by, threw
it into relief. It was set and stern, even a little haggard; but, too,
there was something else there, something that appealed instantly to
Jimmie Dale--a sort of bulldog grit that dominated it.
"If he holds our speed, we'll know!" the chauffeur was shouting now to
make himself heard over the roar of the car. "Look again! Where is it
now?"
Once more Jimmie Dale looked through the little rear window. The cab had
been a block behind them when it had turned the corner, and he watched
it now in a sort of grim fascination. There was no possible doubt of it!
The two bobbing, bouncing headlights were creeping steadily nearer. And
then a sort of unnatural calm settled upon Jimmie Dale, and his hand
went mechanically to his pocket to feel his automatic there, as he
turned again to the chauffeur.
"If you've got any more speed, you'd better use it!" he said
significantly.
The man shot a quick look at him.
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