The Owl Taxi. Footner Hulbert

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      "He must be bound for Brooklyn," said Greg.

      But at Twentieth Street the car in front turned to the east. Greg followed at a discreet distance. In that dark and silent quarter greater care was necessary if they wished to keep the man in front from guessing that he was followed. At Gramercy Park his car turned south again into Irving Place, and they lost it for a moment.

      When they cautiously turned the Irving Place corner they saw that the other cab had come to a stop half-way down that short street. Even as they looked the tall man's bags were carried into a building on that side. His cab went on.

      They drove slowly past the place where he had disappeared. It was a modest little hotel with a Spanish name: Hotel dos Estados Unidos. Through the windows of the lobby they saw the tall man standing by the desk, apparently being assigned to a room.

      "What does he come here for?" murmured the girl more and more perplexed.

      Greg went on for a block, and turning, came slowly back on the other side. The hotel lobby was now empty, except for the dozing clerk behind the desk. Greg brought the cab to a stop just beyond the hotel where they could still command an oblique view of the lobby.

      "What now?" he said.

      "I don't know what to say," she murmured. "I can't imagine why he should come here to sleep. I can't believe that he does mean to sleep here. I believe he'll be out again. Let's wait and see."

      They continued to discuss the situation, a discussion with little profit as far as Greg was concerned, for he lacked a clue. The burden of her cry was:

      "If only I knew what he was up to!"

      By and by another cab drew up to the little hotel and a man and woman got out; innocent belated travelers these, who have nothing to do with the story; but the sight of them gave Greg an idea.

      "I might slip into the lobby while this man's registering," he said, "and glance over his shoulder. I could find out then what name the other registered under. I could make out to be after a drink of water or something. That is, if you wish me to."

      "Yes, do so!" she said eagerly. "It might give us a clue."

      Returning to her two minutes later Greg said: "He wrote himself down as Antonio Bareda of Santiago de Managuay."

      The effect on the girl was startling. She fell back in her seat. "What! My uncle's name! Has he stolen that too? Oh, something terrible is going on!"

      Greg stood with a foot on the running-board at a loss what to say. He finally murmured diffidently: "If you could tell me what you suspect——"

      "I can't! I can't!" she cried. "I don't understand it myself. It is too horrible!"

      Presently more composed, she said: "One thing is sure, I daren't leave here now. I must find out what he's up to if I have to wait till morning. But you must be tired out. Why don't you get in the back of the cab and sleep until daylight, then I'll call you, and you can relieve me. If necessary I can run the car. We have one at home to save the big car."

      Greg reminded afresh of his original grisly passenger felt a cold chill down his spine. That problem remained to be solved. He hung irresolute.

      "Go on, get in," she urged, putting her hand around like a chauffeur to open the door.

      Greg hastily gripped it. "Don't open it!" he cried.

      She looked at him in astonishment.

      "The fact is there's something I didn't tell you," he lamely explained. "I've got a sou—I mean a drunken man in there."

      "What! You mean we've been carrying him around all night!"

      "I guess he didn't mind."

      "Oh, bother!" she said. "We'll have to dump him out here. There's no help for it. This is important. It may be a matter of life and death!"

      In speaking, she instinctively turned her head and looked through the glass behind her.

      "Don't look!" cried Greg cold with horror.

      But she only pressed her face closer to the glass. "There isn't anybody there," she said.

      Greg astonished threw open the door. It was true. The cab was empty. He gasped; his jaw dropped; he stared at the empty place like an idiot.

      "What's the matter with you?" said the girl laughing. "I suppose he just woke up and walked off when you weren't looking."

      "He was past walking," said Greg.

      His grim air impressed her. "What do you mean?"

      "He was dead."

      "Dead!" she cried. "Are you mad?"

      Greg shook his head. "Dead as mutton!"

      Her lip trembled like a child's. "Good heavens, what a city this is!"

      "So it seems!" said Greg grimly.

      "What had happened to him?"

      Greg told her what part of the story he had omitted before.

      "Then that was why the man was so anxious to sell you the cab?"

      "That was why."

      "What has become of it?"

      "God knows!"

      They looked at each other in dumb amazement. Suddenly the girl's expression changed.

      "Did my—did that man who was riding with you know?" she asked sharply.

      "No. I told him the same as I told you; that my other fare was drunk."

      "I wondered why he rode outside with you. It is not like him to do such things. You are sure he had no hand in it?" she persisted.

      This was a new thought to Greg. "Why, no," he said. "How could he? He just happened to pick me up later. But I don't know. Why not? There was something queer about all his actions."

      "What was he like, the dead man?"

      "A nice old gentleman; plump, smooth-shaven, kindly-looking; looked like a Spanish-American. By Gad! they were all Spanish, weren't they?"

      The girl's face gradually sharpened with anxiety now.

      Greg went on: "There was a valise under the body; that's gone too."

      "Like that you saw in the hotel up-town?" she asked breathlessly.

      "The very same! I never thought of it!"

      A low cry escaped the girl.

      "He had an odd-looking ring on; octagonal red stone with characters cut in it."

      "My uncle!" she cried despairingly. "I suspected it! They have done for him! I was too late!" She covered her face with her hands.

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