John Bruce ran swiftly out into the street, and, as the car turned the corner, swung himself lightly and silently in beside Hawkins. Crang would not know. The curtained panel at the back of the driver's seat hid the interior of the car from view. Hawkins turned his head, stared into John Bruce's face for an instant, half in a startled, half in a curiously perplexed way, made as though to speak--and then, without a word, gave his attention to the wheel again. The car rattled on down the block. John Bruce, as silent as Hawkins, stared ahead. On the ferry! Yes, that was it! It was a long way to Staten Island. Claire would not stay cooped up in a closed car below; she would go up on deck to get the air. And even if Crang accompanied her, it would not prove very difficult to separate them. He looked around suddenly and intercepted a furtive, puzzled glance cast at him by Hawkins. And then Hawkins spoke for the first time. “You'd better get off, John Bruce,” he said in a choked voice. “You've done all you could, and God bless you over and over again for it, but you can't do anything more now, and it won't do you any good to come any further.” “No,” said John Bruce, “I'm going all the way, Hawkins.” Hawkins relapsed into silence. They were near the Battery when he spoke again. “All the way,” Hawkins repeated then, as though it were but a moment gone since John Bruce had spoken. “All the way. Yes, that's it--after twenty years. That's when I pawned her--twenty years ago. And I couldn't never redeem her the way Paul Veniza said. And she ain't never known, and thank God she ain't never going to know, that I--that I----” A tear trickled down the old face, and splashed upon the wrinkled skin of the hand upon the wheel. And then old Hawkins smiled suddenly, and nodded toward the clock on the cowl-board--and the speed of the car increased. “I looked up the ferry time,” said Hawkins. They swung out in front of the ferry house, and the car stopped. A ferry, just berthing, was beginning to disgorge its stream of motors and pedestrians. “We're first in line,” said Hawkins, nodding his head. “We'll have to wait a minute or two.” John Bruce nodded back indifferently. His eyes were fixed on the ferry that he could just see through the ferry house. Certainly, Claire would not stay down in the confined space of the ferry's run-way all the trip; or if she did, Crang wouldn't. His face set. Quite unconsciously his hand had gone to his pocket, and he found his fingers now snuggling again around the weapon that lay there.