And Lanyard's chances were measurably advanced by the delay required
in order to pick up the sprawling one, start the engine anew, and turn more
cautiously to resume the pursuit.
Striking diagonally across Broadway the 'bus swung into Fifty-seventh
Street at the moment when the roadster turned the corner of Columbus
Circle.
The head of the guard lifted above the edge of the roof. Clinging to the
supports of the stairway, he addressed Lanyard in accents of blended
suspicion and respect.
"Lis'n, boss: is this all right, on the level, now?"
"Absolutely, unless that racing-car catches up with us, in which case
you'll have a dead man--myself--on your hands."
"Well ... we don't wanna lose our jobs, that's all."
"You won't unless I lose my life."
"Anything you'd like me to do?"
"Go down, wait on the platform, if anybody attempts to get aboard kick him
in the act."
"Sure I will!"
The guard disappeared.
Wallowing like a barge in a strong seaway, the omnibus crossed Seventh
Avenue and sped downhill toward Sixth with dangerous momentum.
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