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Updated: June 10, 2025
A short interrogation revealed that the taxi-driver had not only seen nothing, but that he could do nothing to help the enquiry. The superintendent recalled the honest policeman. "Come now! You are certain that the victim died immediately?" "Well, you see, Monsieur, while I was dispersing the crowd, a doctor came up, and it was he who told me how the dead man died!"
Both Will and Foster were curiously watching the group; they almost instinctively looked upon them as natural enemies and yet were compelled to laugh at their antics. "Here you, taxi-driver," suddenly called out one of the sophomores advancing from the midst of his classmates and approaching one of the cabs, a line of which were drawn up near the platform. "Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Here you are!
Yet here at the address that Gastrell had given to the taxi-driver was the very woman the man calling himself Gastrell, with whom Osborne had returned from Africa, had passed off as his wife. "My husband isn't in at present," she said calmly, a moment later, "but I expect him back at any minute. Won't you come in and wait for him?"
He seized on the word as if it had just been coined to express their case, and his mind could rest in it without farther labour. The door-bell rang, and they started. Through the window they saw the taxi-driver gesticulating enquiries as to the fate of the luggage. "He wants to know if he's to leave it here," Susy laughed. "No no! You're to come with me," her husband declared. "Come with you?"
"I am very much obliged to you, madam." "You're welcome!" was the terse reply. Quest gave the new address to the taxi-driver and was scarcely able to restrain his impatience during the long drive. They pulled up at last before a somewhat dingy-looking house. He rang the bell, which was answered by a trim-looking little maid-servant. "Is Mrs. Willet in?" he enquired.
Carroll lighted a cigarette. Of the three men, he was the only one who seemed impervious to the cold. Leverage and the taxi-driver were both shivering as if with the ague. Carroll, an enormous overcoat snuggled about his neck, his hands thrust deep into his pockets, his boyish face set with interest, seemed perfectly comfortable.
But when they reached the station she resumed the striking manners of a conspirator so admirably that in the three minutes she spent paying the taxi-driver and buying tickets she attracted the keen attention of two of the detectives of the railway. They followed her, as she tiptoed about with hunched shoulders, and watched her with the eyes of lynxes; but she puzzled them.
It is true that the taxi-driver had a moustache and that this man was clean-shaven, and moreover, had tiny side whiskers, but there was a resemblance. "Have you had your driver long?" she asked as they were running through Monte Carlo, along the sea road. "Mordon? Yes, we have had him six or seven years," said Jean carelessly. "He drives us when we are on the continent, you know.
He pressed a button, and turned Walters over to one of the officers on inside duty, with instructions to see that the young taxi-driver was afforded every courtesy and comfort, and was not treated as a criminal. Spike turned at the door. "I want to thank you " "That's all right, Spike!" "You're both mighty nice fellers especially you, Mr. Carroll. I'm for you every time!"
Anthony saluted, quickly paid his taxi-driver, and set off for a run toward the regiment he had named. When he was out of sight he changed his course, and with his heart beating wildly, hurried to his company, feeling that he had made a fatal error of judgment. Two days later the officer who had been in command of the guard recognized him in a barber shop down-town.
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