Several
minutes had been lost in obtaining a taxicab and she feared that
she would be unable to overtake him before he reached his own
gates. This would be to subject Reuther to a shock which the poor
child had little strength to meet. She could not escape the truth
long. Soon, very soon she would have to be told that the man who
stood so high in her esteem was now regarded as a common criminal.
But she must be prepared for the awful news. She must be within
reach of her mother's arms when the blow fell destroying her past
as well as her future.
Were minutes really so long--the house really so far away? Deborah
gazes eagerly forward. There is very little traffic in the streets
to-day and the road ahead looks clear--too clear, she cannot even
see the dust raised by the judge's rapidly disappearing carriage.
Can he have arrived home already? No, or the carriage would be
coming back, and not a vehicle is in view.
Her anxiety increases. She has reached the road debouching towards
the bridge--has crossed it--is drawing near--nearer--when, what is
this? Men--women--coming from the right, coming from the left,
running out of houses, flocking from every side street, filling up
the road! A lesser mob than that from which she had just escaped,
but still, a mob, and all making for one point--the judge's house!
And he? She can see his carriage now. Held up for a moment by the
crowd, it has broken through, and is rolling quickly towards
Ostrander Lane.
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