1427 Prince Louis Carriageway. That was correct address, but the gate was securely bound. Based on the rust marks left by the chain, not a soul had passed over this threshold in many a month. Why would the professor steer him wrong?

He never should have let the driver leave. Now he was stranded at the end of a dark road hidden well by a tangle of trees. Perhaps it wasn’t too late. Was that still the horses he heard trotting in the distance? If his luck held, the cab may have paused, leaving it near enough yet to run after and flag down. Hollering into the damp night was hardly gentlemanly, but the driver would not spread word of his indiscretion given a reasonable tip.

What is this, though? It sounds as if the horses are getting nearer. With relief, Richard realized his concern was unfounded. This must be the professor now, arriving fashionably late. And, yes, as the cab pulled into view, the shadow of the professor’s unmistakable profile could be seen flickering upon the curtains within.