[The Midnight Passenger by Richard Henry Savage]@TWC D-Link bookThe Midnight Passenger CHAPTER XIII 15/38
He will keep his bargain; but, if he should be found guilty ?" All that night the heiress tossed upon uneasy pillows, waiting for the tidings which might in time parade her name as the innocent wife of a desperate felon. The motley crowd pouring along the Bowery at ten o'clock swept past the Cooper Union on either side in search of the garish delights of the oblong oasis of pleasure.
Down Fourth Avenue from the Square, down along Third Avenue, they swarmed. Eager, hard-faced men; painted, hopeless-eyed women, the vacuous visitor from "Wayback," drunken soldiers, stray sailors, lost marines, all were kaleidoscopically mingled. The strident voices of street peddlers mingled with the hoarse seductions of pullers-in. Hebraic venders beamed alluringly from their open doors, gin palaces, shooting galleries, mock auctions, second-hand stores and brilliantly-lit "dives" awaited the unwary.
"Coffee parlors," museums, cheap theaters, and music halls, as well as the "side rooms," were thronged with those pitiless-eyed Devil's children, the women of the night side of New York! Roar of elevated train, clang of street cars, hurrying dash of the ambulance, wild onward career of the fire engine, punctuated this human maelstrom sweeping toward its duplex outlets of the morgue or Sing Sing's gloomy prison cells. No one noted Witherspoon and Doctor Atwater seated in two different carriages drawn up under the shades of lonely buildings on the side street near the Dry Dock Bank. The window-curtains were down in each of these waiting vehicles, and the drivers nodded upon their boxes. In all the guilty bosoms on the bedlam-like street no hearts beat as wildly as those in the breasts of McNerney and Condon. "It's the one chance of our lives, Jim," said McNerney, as he crouched in a dark doorway before posting his comrade.
Both were now in uniform, ready for a dash, and McNerney's upper lip wore a movable prototype of his cherished mustache.
"The boy comes down Fourteenth Street always and by Fourth Avenue," whispered Dennis. "You watch the corner from this side.
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