The Dark Death

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EVENING traffic was heavy on Sixth Avenue. Throngs of taxicabs had chosen this route to escape the jam of the theater district. The result was a tie-up as bad as any at Times Square. Stalled trolley cars; blocked trucks; cabs and automobiles clustered between elevated pillars — these were hopelessly entangled while traffic cops blew whistles and shouted orders that no one could obey.

All the while, the rumble of elevated trains sounded from above, as if derisive of the vehicles stalled beneath. The roar of one train brought an impatient growl from a taxi driver. The fellow thrust a pointed profile from the window of the cab. He saw a truck move ahead a dozen feet, opening a pathway.

The cabby yanked his car in gear. Snapping in front of a second taxi, he veered right, scraped an elevated pillar and shot up to the nearest corner. He wheeled right, swung into an opening in cross-street traffic and sped down the other thoroughfare.

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