Bill Gregg's eyes were flashing with the excitement. "That house has
somebody in it who knows Caroline Smith, and that somebody is excited
because we're hunting for her," said Bill. "Maybe it holds Caroline
herself. Who can tell that? Let's go see."

"Wait till that taxi driver goes. If he'd wanted us to know about
Caroline he'd of told us. He doesn't want us to know and he'd maybe
take it pretty much to heart if he knew we'd followed him."

"What he thinks don't worry me none. I can tend to three like him."

"Maybe, but you couldn't handle thirty, and coyotes like him hunt in
packs, always. The best fighting pair of coyotes that ever stepped
wouldn't have no chance against a lofer wolf, but no lofer wolf could
stand off a dozen or so of the little devils. So keep clear of these
little rat-faced gents, Bill. They hunt in crowds."

Presently they saw the chauffeur coming down the steps. Even at that
distance it could be seen that he was smiling broadly, and that he was
intensely pleased with himself and the rest of the world.

Starting up his machine, he swung it around dexterously, as only New
York taxi drivers can, and sped down the street by the way he had
come, passing Gregg and Ronicky, who had flattened themselves against
the fence to keep from being seen. They observed that, while he
controlled the car with one hand, with the other he was examining the
contents of his wallet.

"Money for him!" exclaimed Ronicky, as soon as the car was out of
sight around the corner. "This begins to look pretty thick, Bill.