“A little errand first, driver,” he called out.  “To—­” and mentioned a street—­“as fast as you can.”  His tone was sharp, authoritative; it implied the need for instant obedience, rang like a command.  The man straightened, touched his horse with his whip, and wheeling quickly they dashed away.

As they did so, John Steele thought he heard exclamations behind; looking through the cab window he saw, at the gate, the company gazing after him, obviously not yet recovered from their thrill of surprise following his unexpected action.  He observed, also, two men on the other side of the street who now ran across and held a brief altercation with one of the cabmen.  As they were about to enter the cab several persons in the party apparently intervened, expostulating vigorously.  It was not difficult to surmise the resentment of the group at this attempted summary seizure of a second one of their cabs.  By the time the men had explained their imperative need, and after further argument were permitted to drive off, John Steele had gained a better start than he had dared to hope.  But they would soon be after him, post-haste; yes, already they were dashing hard and furiously behind; he lifted the lid overhead, in his hand a sovereign.

“Those men must not overtake us, cabby.  Go where you will!  You understand?”

The man did; his fingers closed quickly on the generous tip and once more he lashed his horse.  For some time they continued at a rapid pace, now skirting the confines of the park, now plunging into a puzzling tangle of streets; but wherever they went, the other cab managed always to keep them in sight.  It even began to creep up, nearer.  From his pocket John Steele drew a weapon; his eyes gleamed ominously.  The pursuing hansom drew closer; casting a hurried glance over his shoulder, he again called up to the driver.

“It’s no use, gov’ner,” came back the reply.  “This ’oss ’as been out longer than ’is.”

“Then turn the first dark corner and slow up a bit,—­for only a second; afterward, go on your very best as long as you can.”

Another sovereign changed hands and shortly afterward the vehicle dashed into a side street.  It appeared as likely a place as any for his purpose; John Steele, hardly waiting for the man to draw rein, leaped out as far as he might.  He landed without mishap, heard a whip snap furiously, and darted back into a doorway.  He had just reached it when the other cab drew near; for an instant he felt certain that he had been seen; but the pursuers’ eyes were bent eagerly ahead.

“This’ll mean a fiver for you, my man,” he heard one of them shout to the driver.  “We’ve got him, by—­” A harsh, jubilant cry cut the air; then they were gone.