"'S'pose you know where you're heading?' said Farrell after a while.
"'On these occasions,' said I, 'one steers by the pole-star.'
"'Where is it?' he demanded.
"'At this moment, so far as I can judge,' I assured him, 'it is
shining accurately on the back of your neck.'
"Of a sudden we found ourselves at the head of a pavement lined with
the red stern-lights of a rank of cabs and taxis. I had not the
vaguest notion of its name: but the street was obviously one of those
curious ones, unsuspected, and probably non-existent by day, in which
lurk the vehicles that can't be discovered when it's raining and you
want to get home from a theatre. 'Glow-worms!' announced Farrell.
"I tightened my grip under his funny-bone, and hailed the first
vehicle. It was a hansom. 'Engaged?' I asked.
"'All depends where you're going, sir,' said the cabby.
"'Wimbledon,' shouted Farrell, and broke away from me.
'Wimbledon for pleasure and the simple life! . . . You'll excuse
me--' he dodged towards the back of the cab: 'on these occasions--
always make a point take number.
Pages:
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133