The darkness of the hour was dimly broken by the
rays from the lines of street-lamps that stretched at intervals on both
sides of Broadway, making the gloom of the place and hour even more
oppressive.
"Tell the captain to wait here for us with fires up," said Mrs. Knapp.
"The carriage should be somewhere around here," she continued, peering
anxiously about as we reached the foot of the wharf.
The low buildings by the railroad track were but piles of blackness,
and about them I could see nothing.
"This way," said a familiar voice, and a man stepped from the shadow.
"Dicky Nahl!" I exclaimed.
"Mr. Wilton!" mimicked Dicky. "But it's just as well not to speak so
loud. Here you are. I put the hack's lights out just to escape
unpleasant remark. We had better be moving, for it's a stiffish drive
of six or seven miles. If you'll get in, I'll keep the seat with the
driver and tell him the way to go."
Mrs. Knapp entered the carriage, and called to me to follow her.
I remembered Mother Borton's warnings and my doubts of Dicky Nahl.
"You're certain you know where you are going?" I asked him in an
undertone.
"No, I'm not," said Dicky frankly. "I've found a man who says he knows.
We are to meet him. We'll get there between three and four o'clock. He
won't say another word to anybody but her or you. I guess he knows what
he is about."
"Well, keep your eyes open. Meeker's gang is ahead of us. Is the driver
reliable?"
"Right as a judge," said Dicky cheerfully, "Now, if you'll get in with
madam we won't be wasting time here.
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