At all events, you've a pleasant interview before
you."
"Maybe I have--and maybe I haven't!" Harleston laughed--and he and
Carpenter went out, passing the French Ambassador in the anteroom.
Harleston went straight to Police Headquarters. The Chief was waiting
for him.
"I had Thompson, your cab driver, here," said Ranleigh, "and he tells a
somewhat unusual but apparently straight tale; moreover, he is a very
respectable negro, well known to the guards and the officers on duty
around Dupont Circle, and they regard him as entirely trustworthy. He
says that last evening about nine o'clock, when he was jogging down
Connecticut Avenue on his way home--he owns his rig--he was hailed by a
fare in evening dress, top coat, and hat, who directed him to drive west
on Massachusetts Avenue. In the neighbourhood of Twenty-second Street,
the fare signalled to stop and ordered him to come to the door. There he
asked him to hire the horse and cab until this morning, when they would
be returned to him at that point. Thompson naturally demurred; whereupon
the man offered to deposit with him in cash the value of the horse and
cab, to be refunded upon their return in the morning less fifty dollars
for their hire. This was too good to let slip and Thompson acquiesced,
fixing the value at three hundred and fifty dollars, which sum the man
skinned off a roll of yellow-backs.
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