"
I walked over to a table where I had left my cane and gloves. I heard
the whirr of the alarm in the cab below and I turned quickly. Van
Sweller was gone.
I rushed down the stairs and out to the curb. An empty hansom was just
passing. I hailed the driver excitedly.
"See that auto cab halfway down the block?" I shouted. "Follow it. Don't
lose sight of it for an instant, and I will give you two dollars!"
If I only had been one of the characters in my story instead of myself I
could easily have offered $10 or $25 or even $100. But $2 was all I felt
justified in expending, with fiction at its present rates.
The cab driver, instead of lashing his animal into a foam, proceeded at
a deliberate trot that suggested a by-the-hour arrangement.
But I suspected Van Sweller's design; and when we lost sight of his cab
I ordered my driver to proceed at once to ----. [9]
[Footnote 9: See advertising column, "Where to Dine Well,"
in the daily newspapers.]
I found Van Sweller at a table under a palm, just glancing over the
menu, with a hopeful waiter hovering at his elbow.
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