except his own taxicab, swinging slowly into the avenue at that moment,
and a covered motor-car getting up speed a square away. Even as the car
approached, Hambleton decided that the strange sound had proceeded from
its ambushed tonneau; and it was, surely, a human voice of distress. He
stepped forward to the curb. The car was upon him, then lumbered heavily
and swiftly past. But on the instant of its passing there appeared,
beneath the lifted curtain and quite near his own face, the face of the
singer of yesterday; and from pale, agonized lips, as if with, dying
breath, she cried, "Help, help!"

Hambleton knew her instantly, although the dark abundance of her hair was
almost lost beneath hat and flowing veil, and the bright, humorous
expression was blotted out by fear. He stood for a moment rooted to the
curb, watching the dark mass of the car as it swayed down the hill. Then
he beckoned sharply to his driver, met the taxicab half way, and pointed
to the disappearing machine.

"Quick! Can you overtake it?"

"I'd like nothing better than to run down one o' them Dook machines!"
said the driver.




CHAPTER III

MIDSUMMER MADNESS

The driver of the taxicab proved to be a sound sport.