He is "Chez Paz"
Drawn up at the curb, a fiacre stood with open door. He could see the driver turning on the box to discover the cause of the uproar. That was good, O'Rourke considered; the man, then, was wide awake.
He reached the vehicle and jumped upon the step, shouting to the driver the first address which entered his head:
"To the Gare du Nord! At once! With haste!"
Immediately the fiacre was in motion; O'Rourke experienced some difficulty in drawing himself in and closing the door because of the rapidity of the pace. In another moment the horse was leaping forward furiously, under the sting of a merciless lash.
"Bless the intilligent man!" muttered O'Rourke fervently. He felt that he could have kissed the driver for his instant obedience. But at once he was crushed by a paralyzing thought; how, in Heaven's name, was he to pay the hire of the vehicle?
He cursed his luck, and attempted to seat himself—gasped with astonishment, and incontinently stood up again, bumping his head against the roof.
"Madame!" he cried astounded, into the obscurity. "I beg—"
The reply was instant and encouraging.
"My pardon is granted, monsieur. Will monsieur be pleased to resume his seat?"
For the other occupant of the fiacre was—a woman.
[ 25 ]
