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Updated: June 10, 2025
"I have been a taxi-driver so I know how to handle a car and in a few minutes I was going along the Edgware Road, on my way to St. George's Hospital. I turned in through the park because I didn't want people to see me, and it was when I had got into a part where nobody was about that I stopped the car to have another look at him. I realised that he was quite dead.
Past the Rialto, the glittering front of the Astor, the jewelled magnificence of Times Square ... a gorgeous alley of incandescence ahead.... Then was it years later? he was paying the taxi-driver in front of a white building on Fifty-seventh Street. He was in the hall ah, there was the negro boy from Martinique, lazy, indolent, unchanged. "Is Mrs. Patch in?"
He went out into the courtyard with the two apparent advocates. Standing on the step of the courtyard gate he looked out for a passing cab. A taxi-driver scented customers. He drove alongside the pavement.
As they started on the journey, Edestone had an opportunity of seeing in his true character for the first time the man whom he had so cleverly outwitted in the telephone booth, and he found it hard work to identify the smart cavalry officer as the grimy London taxi-driver of a few days before.
I will not give it to a waiter or a taxi-driver or to anybody else as a tip. If you estimate the market value of a shilling with a hole in it at anything from ninepence to fourpence according to the owner's chances of getting rid of it, then it might be considered possibly a handsome, anyhow an adequate, tip for a driver; but somehow the idea does not appeal to me at all.
Her testimony was of the sort that the jury could take either as for me or against me; she established, as an eyewitness, that we had quarreled and that the mallet played a part in it. Naturally, though, I looked to her as my friend. I thought that her testimony helped me." "And the taxi-driver? What did he say? Eh?" "We never were able to find him." "Oh, ho! Golemar! You hear?"
Again the worthy guardian of the peace scratched his head with an anxious look. "I saw nothing of it, Monsieur," he replied. "And the taxi-driver? You have his deposition?" "He did not see anything either, Monsieur." "Call this chauffeur." A few minutes after, the superintendent dismissed the chauffeur.
"Wanta go to a party?" demanded Perry sternly. "I gotta work," answered the taxi-driver lugubriously. "I gotta keep my job." "It's a very good party." "'S a very good job." "Come on!" urged Perry. "Be a good fella. See it's pretty!" He held the camel up and the taxi-driver looked at it cynically. "Huh!" Perry searched feverishly among the folds of the cloth.
"Foine, I should think it was.... Better than doin' squads right all day." "Where did you get yours?" "Ain't got only one arm now.... I don't give a damn.... I've driven my last fare, that's all." "How d'you mean?" "I used to drive a taxi." "That's a pretty good job, isn't it?" "You bet, big money in it, if yer in right." "So you used to be a taxi-driver, did you?" broke in the orderly.
"Come out of there now, Mr. Hemingway." "I demand to see the terrestrial consul," Sime said, getting out. "How about my fare?" asked the taxi-driver. Sime put his hand into his pocket, where he kept a roll of interplanetary script; but the officer restrained him. "Never mind now," he said ironically. "You are a guest of the government." Then to the driver he added: "Get on, now! Get on!
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