CHAPTER XVI
SCOTLAND YARD TAKES A HAND
IT was raining hard. Stuyvesant, thoroughly alarmed and not at all elated by his astonishing conquest, halted in dismay. The pelting torrent swept up against the side of the canvas awning that extended to the street; the thick matting on the sidewalk was almost afloat. Headlights of automobiles drawn up to the curb blazed dimly through the screen of water. He peered out beyond the narrow opening left for pedestrians and groaned.
"Taxi!" he frantically shouted to the doorman.
Some one tapped him on the shoulder. He started as if a gun had gone off at his back. It was all up! For once the police were on the spot when— A voice was shouting:
"By thunder, I didn't think it was in you!"
He whirled to face, not the expected bluecoat, but the sallow detective.
"My God, how you startled me!"
"I'd have bet my last dollar you hadn't the nerve to—ahem! I—I— Say, take a tip from me. Beat it! Don't hang around here waitin' for that girl. That guy in there is beginning to see straight again, and if he was to bust out here and find you— Well, it would be something awful!"
"Get me a taxi, you infernal idiot!" roared the conqueror in flight, addressing the starter.
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