The Cab of the Sleeping Horse

As a general rule, Harleston was not inquisitive as to things that did not concern him—especially at one o'clock in the morning; but the waiting cab, the deserted box, the recumbent horse in the shafts excited his curiosity. The cab, probably, was from the stand in Dupont Circle; and the cabby likely was asleep inside the cab, with a bit too much rum aboard. Nevertheless, the matter was worth a step into Eighteenth Street and a few seconds' time. It might yield only a drunken driver's mutterings at being disturbed; it might yield much of profit. And the longer Harleston looked the more he was impelled to investigate. Finally curiosity prevailed.


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