Unless--and I glanced at him again. No, certainly, he
was not a confidence man--even if he was, I would rather welcome the
adventure. My curiosity won the battle.
"Very well," I said. "I'll be glad to accept your invitation, Mr.----"
He nodded approvingly.
"There spoke the man of sense. Well, you shall not go unrewarded.
Godfrey is my name--no, you don't know me, but I'll soon explain
myself. Here's my cab."
I mounted into it, he after me. It seemed to me that there was an
unusual number of loiterers about the door of the building, but we
were off in a moment, and I did not give them a second thought. We
rattled out into Broadway, and turned northward for the three-mile
straightaway run to Union Square. I noticed in a moment that we were
going at a rate of speed rather exceptional for a cab, and it steadily
increased, as the driver found a clear road before him. My companion
threw up the trap in the roof of the cab as we swung around into
Thirteenth Street.
"All right, Sam?" he called.
The driver grinned down at us through the hole.
"All right, sir," he answered. "They couldn't stand the pace a little
bit. They're distanced."
The trap snapped down again, we turned into Sixth Avenue, and stopped
in a moment before the Studio--gray and forbidding without, but a
dream within.
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