“He had better keep his hands off, or I will teach him a lesson! The cowardly cur, to bully you so. Enter, darling—you are safe with me.” Eric’s first impulse was for blood. He felt strongly inclined to spring forward and grapple with this boaster, who breathed such lies of Joe in his wife’s ears. Then another thought came. Such a public scene would immediately collect a crowd at the corner, and Lillian’s name would be dragged in the dust. The world has no mercy upon a woman who leaves her husband and runs away with another man—the latter loses no caste, but she, poor creature, can never climb up again. That is the law of human justice—woman was given a nobler, purer nature than man, and when she sins it is unpardonable. It has been so ever since the world was, and will be the same always. While Eric struggled between what he desired to do and what policy dictated, the choice was taken from him altogether. Fate decided. Prescott had placed his charge in the hack and entered himself. The driver slammed the door, and mounted nimbly to his box. If Eric meant to act it must be now, or the chance was gone forever. Already the vehicle was moving. Now or never! Obeying a sudden impulse to make the most of a bad bargain, he ran after the hack. It had not gained much headway as yet, and Eric caught on behind. Here he conceived another one of those sudden fancies, and saw an opportunity to climb up on top of the vehicle. Fortunately for his purpose it presented good opportunities for such gymnastic feats. No one but a boy or an exceedingly agile man could have accomplished this thing; but the detective certainly filled the bill so far as the latter condition was concerned. He pulled himself up—his feet secured a hold upon the springs, and his hands grasped a clutch above. Then he drew himself upon the top. A few boys along the pavement noticed this but they only supposed this was some peculiar way in which a man could gain a seat beside the driver. Those inside were too busily engaged in exchanging confidences to notice anything. As for the jehu, he was so much taken up with his horses, avoiding obstructions for which Third Avenue is notorious, that he never dreamed of the odd passenger he had picked up, until Eric plumped down on the box beside him. “Great Scott! where did you drop from?” he ejaculated is dismay, looking up as if he really suspected the unknown had rained down. “Don’t worry yourself—I only climbed up over the back,” returned Eric coolly. “Then just you climb down again in a hurry, or I’ll toss you over,” and the man, firing up after his sudden scare, looked ugly enough to carry his threat into execution. “Some other time, old fellow—just now this place suits me as well as any, and here I stay.” The rattle of the swiftly moving vehicle over the granite blocks would prevent any one from hearing this interesting dialogue—the parties interested were shouting in each other’s ears.