eel's a
fool to him for slipping out of tight places. When did he go, I
wonder, and where?"

Never very strong on matters of detail, here curiosity tricked him
into absolute indiscretion. Sliding along the seat to the swinging
door he thrust it open and leaned out into the darkness, for a
purpose so evident that he who ran might read. That one who ran
_did_, he had good reason to understand in the next instant, for,
of a sudden, the taxi in advance checked its wild flight, swung
round with a noisy scroo-op, and pelted back until the two vehicles
stood cheek by jowl, so to speak, and the glare of its headlights
was pouring full force upon Mr. Narkom and into the interior of
the red limousine.

"Here! Dash your infernal impudence," began he, blinking up at
the driver through a glare which prevented him seeing that the
taxicab's leather blinds had been discreetly pulled down, and its
interior rendered quite invisible; but before he could add so much
as another word to his protest the chauffeur's voice broke in with
a blandness and an accent which told its own story.

"Dix mille pardons, m'sieur," it commenced, then pulled itself
up as if the owner of it had suddenly recollected himself--and
added abruptly in a farcical attempt to imitate the jargon of the
fast-disappearing London cabby. "Keep of the 'air on, ole coq!
Only wantin' to arsk of the question civile. Lost my bloomin' way.
Put a cove on to the short cut to the 'Igh Street will yer, like a
blessed Christian? I dunno where I are."

Mr. Narkom was not suffered to make reply. Before he had more
than grasped the fact that the speaker was undeniably a Frenchman,
Lennard--out of the range of that dazzling light--had made the
discovery that he was yet more undeniably a Frenchman of that class
from which the Apaches are recruited, and stepped into the breach
with astonishing adroitness.

"Oh, that's the trouble, is it?" he interposed. "My hat! Why, of
course we'll put you on the way. Wot's more, we'll take you along
and show you--won't we, guv'ner, eh?--so as you won't go astray till
you gets there. 'Eads in and door shut, Superintendent," bringing
the limousine around until it pointed in the same direction as the
taxicab. "Now then, straight ahead, and foller yer nose, Jules;
we'll be rubbin' shoulders with you the whole blessed way. And
as the Dook of Wellington said to Napoleon Bonaparte, 'None of
your larks, you blighter--you're a-comin' along with me!'"

T