He
quickened his pace in such a way as to warn the old man that the eventful
moment was at hand. The cab stood under an electric light before an
ivy-grown church.
Yorick, with noiseless steps, accelerated his gait. Bridges, as he neared
the cab, deflected his course toward the curbstone and threw his head back
impressively. This little action, interpreted rightly by the pursuer, was
the old man's cue. Yorick suddenly rushed forward with surprising agility.
Before Bridges could be seen by the occupant of the cab for which he was
making, he was dazed by a blow on the side of the head, just beneath the
ear, and knocked off his feet by a sound thump on the same spot. He reeled,
clutched at the air, and fell heavily upon the sidewalk. There he lay
stunned and silent.
Yorick, not waiting to see what became of the man whom he had felled,
dashed forward to the cab. Opening the door, he caught a momentary vision
of a white, round face, with big, scared eyes, above a palpitating mass of
soft silk and fur, and against a black background. He thrust toward her the
letter, which he had quickly drawn from his pocket, and whispered, huskily:
"Mr.
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