d smoothly over to Columbus,
ran for a block or so beneath the elevated structure and swung into
Seventy-seventh Street, through which it pelted eastward and into
Central Park. Then for some moments it turned and twisted through the
devious driveways, in a fashion so erratic that the passenger lost all
grasp of her whereabouts, retaining no more than a confused impression
of serpentine, tree-lined ways, chequered with lamplight and the soft,
dense shadows of foliage, and regularly spaced with staring electric
arcs.

The night had fallen black beneath an overcast sky; the air that fanned
her face was warm and heavy with humidity; what little breeze there was,
aside from that created by the motion of the cab, bore on its leaden
wings the scent of rain.

A vague uneasiness began to colour the girl's consciousness. She grew
increasingly sensitive to the ominous quiet of the hour and place: the
stark, dark stillness of the shrouded coppices and thickets, the
emptiness of the paths. Once only she caught sight of a civilian,
strolling in his shirt-sleeves, coat over his arm, hat in hand; and once
only she detected, at a distance, the grey of a policeman's tunic, half
blotted out by the shadow in which its wearer lounged at ease.

And that was far behind when, abruptly, with a grinding crash of brakes,
the cab came from full headlong tilt to a dead halt within twice its
length. She pitched forward from the seat with a cry of alarm, only
saving herself a serious bruising through the instinct that led her to
thrust out her hands and catch the frame of the forward windows.

Before she could recover, the chauffeur's companion had jumped out and
run ahead, pausing in front of the hood to stoop and stare. In another
moment he was back with a report couched in a technical jargon
unintelligible to her understanding. She caught the words "stripped the
gears" and from them inferred the irremediable.

"What is the matter?" she asked anxiously, bending forward.

The chauffeur turned his head and replied in a surly tone: "We've broken
down, ma'm. You can't go no farther in this cab. I'll have to get
another to tow us back to the garage."

"Oh," she cried in dismay, "how unfortunate! What am I to do?"

"Guess you'll have to get out 'n' walk back to Central Park West," was
the answer. "You c'n get a car there to C'lumbus Circle. You'll find
a-plenty taxis down there."

"You're quite sure--" she began to protest.

"Ah, they ain't n