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Midnight

Midnight

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Chapter 1 OUT OF THE STORM

Word Count: 2209    |    Released on: 30/11/2017

ed the brakes and with difficulty obtained control of the little closed car. Depressing the clutch pedal, he negotiated the froz

on the corner of Cypress Street cast a white, cheerless light on the gelid pavement. The few stores along the avenue were dark

another with frowns. Late that afternoon the mercury had started a rapid downward journey. Fires were piled high in the furnaces, automobile-owners poured alcohol into their ra

ners and chilled to the bone. The rain of two days became a

ivered miserably. Fortunately, the huge bulk of the station to his right protected him in a large measure from th

armth or cheer or comfort. With fingers so numb that they were almost powerless to

ed his hands back into a pair of heavy-but, on this night, entirely inadequate-driving-gloves,

wn," he growled to himself

fast train-headed for New York-that was late, too. Due at 11.55, Spike had seen a half-frozen station-master mark it up as being fifty minutes late.

ialized on service. It boasted that every train was met by a yellow ta

osite the main entrance of the station-a space usually crowded with commercial cars-was deserted. No private c

, and chewed to the bone. It was well nigh unbearable. The young taxi-driver's lips be

n clanged protestingly on its way. Impressed in Spike's mind was a mental picture of the chilled motorman, and of the conductor huddled over the electric heater with

ishments of its class. The White Star was notoriously unsanitary, its food poisonously indigestible; but as Spike's eyes were held hypnoticall

ing a fare. It was well beyond the bounds of reason that he would get a passe

mb limbs protesting against the burden of his healthy young body. A gale howled around the dark Jackson S

st the driving sleet, clothes crackling where particles of ice had formed. Spike reached the door of t

e. Then he made his way to the counter, seated himself on a revolving stool, and looked

o, Ge

auranteu

el

! What a

cold, ai

Only if I had a million dollars I'd buy twenty stoves, set 'em in a circle, build a big fire in each one, sit in the middle, and tell winter to go

avely tried one of the doughnuts and gave it up as a bad job, but he quaffed the coffee with an eagerness which burned

n braving the elements. Across the street his unprotesting taxicab stood parked parallel to the curb; beyond it glowered the end of the station.

ommodation split the gloom. Instinctively Spike rose, paid his check, and s

service was part of Spike's creed. He opened the door, recoiled for a second as the gale swept angrily against him, then plunged blindly across the street. He clambered into the seat of his

p to the curb, glance about in search of a street-car, and then duck back into the station. Spike shoved his clutch in and crawled forward along th

ok a professional interest in the person who stepped uncertainly ou

a long fur coat buttoned snugly around her neck. She wore a small squirrel tam, and was

signalled the cab. Even as he speeded his car forward, Spik

, mi

up short b

nd on the door handle before Spike could make a

Spike reflected-stepped inside and slammed the door. Spike fed the gas and started, whirling south on Atlantic Aven

long and unpleasant dri

nearly five miles str

mber

anor-all bespoke affluence. She had probably been visiting at some little town, and had come down on the accommodation; but

there. The patent device he carried for the purpose of clearing rain away refused to w

ost numb as the wind, unimpeded now, struck him squarely. He lost all interest in what he was doing or where h

in rumbled on into the night. Spike hadn't seen it; only the racket of the big cars as the

the crossing was clear, then started on again, a bit shaken by th

e was no sign of life. The roofs and sidewalks glistened with ice. Occasionally the car struck a bump and skidded dangerously. Spike had fo

were houses of the poorer type, the homes of laborers situated on the outer edge of

in the night. Stiff with cold, he reached his hand back to the door

re, miss-

answer. Spi

y'are,

iffly from the car, circled to the

e, m

Then he again put hi

, I'l

e, and yet it was true.

n had di

he Union Station. There, in the front of the car, was her suit-case; bu

and lighted it. Holding it cupped in his hands, he peer

floor, he discerne

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