He made a hasty step toward the cab, but as he did so it started. But Webster was not a man to hesitate with such a doubt on his mind. At once he, too, hailed a cab, and bade the driver follow the one before him at his utmost speed. "To Westminster Bridge," he called as he leaped in, "and do not lose sight of the cab before us." The driver nodded and the race began. It was easy enough at first, but in the more crowded parts it was very difficult. One hansom cab is so like the other that to keep one particular cab in view was no easy task. The driver, however, did his best, but, unhappily, a slight block stopped them for a minute or two. Webster sat burning with impatience, but there was nothing for it but to wait. At last they were off again, and at last, too, they came in sight of the bridge. Then when they reached it Webster sprang out of the cab, and flung half a sovereign to the driver. "Wait for me here," he said; "I may want you again." Then he went on along the footpath, and, halfway across the bridge, he saw another cab drawn up at one side of the roadway, and as he approached this cab the driver beckoned to a passing policeman, and for a moment Webster paused to listen to what he said. "I say!" called the cabman, "there's a lady just got out of this 'ere cab that I think ye'd best look after. She looked uncommon queer, and she told me to drive to one of the bridges; I wish she may not be after some mischief or other." "Which way did she go?" asked the policeman, interested. "Straight ahead, and she'd a wild, dazed look I didn't like." Webster listened no longer. With swift steps he walked on, peering around him as he went. The bridge was fairly crowded, but he pushed his way, and in a little while he saw the figure of a woman before him; of a woman whose form reminded him of the slender girlish one of whom he was thinking. Some passer-by went roughly against her, and she reeled to one side, and leaned panting against the parapet of the bridge. In an instant Webster was at her side. "Did that man hurt you?" he asked, quickly. Then the woman turned her head, and Webster saw the white, despairing face, and the large, violet-rimmed eyes. "Are you Miss Churchill?" said Webster, in a low tone, and he laid his hand gently on her arm. A cry broke from May's white lips. "Oh! don't speak to me, Mr. Webster. Oh! leave me alone--please leave me alone!" she gasped out. "I can not leave you alone," answered Ralph Webster firmly; "I can not leave you here--" At this moment the policeman the cabman had spoken to came up to them, and stopped and looked at May suspiciously. "Is this the young woman the cabman was speaking of, sir?" he said, addressing Webster. "I saw you pass when he was telling me to look after her."