motor flutter, uncertain as to how to act. He dare not swing about to investigate, for the approaching officer was already within forty feet of him, and he felt the possible need of that officer if things had already gone against them.
Then, the next moment his ear caught the rattle of the dropped door-glass. At the same time that the huge-bodied officer in the dripping raincoat drew up on the other side of the fountain Kestner's head appeared through the open window. Between his lips he held a freshly lighted cigar—which served to explain the small cloud of smoke drifting thinly out from under the cab-hood.
"Driver, what the devil's the matter with that engine of yours?" promptly demanded the man with the cigar.
"She's all right now—she was only back firin' that time," cheerily announced Wilsnach as he let in his clutch and got under way.
The waterproofed officer stood watching them. He stood there immobile, without speaking, the car-lamps refracting from his wet oil-skins in a hundred scattering high-lights. He stood there, ominous, colossal, heavily impassive, as the taxicab made its turn and swung so close to him that he could have reached out and touched its hood.
Wilsnach held his breath, wondering if he was to be stopped or not, knowing better than to turn and look back. Then he breathed again, for they had already taken the turn to the west and no word had been spoken.
It was Kestner's voice that came to him, calm, and
