Jean his hat. …
On they sped, down Peachtree Street, to Auburn Avenue, down Auburn Avenue to Pryor Street. There, as they started to cross, a shout welling into a roar made them draw back into the shelter of a doorway. Up Pryor Street sped a young, well-dressed Negro. Inch by inch, foot by foot, yard by yard he gained on his pursuers. One by one he left them behind until only one was near him. Here was one who ran as swiftly as the intended victim. Mimi and Jean saw the Negro glance over his shoulder. From his pocket they saw him take a pocketknife and open it. In so doing he lost a few feet. As the two racing figures were abreast the hiding-place of Jean and Mimi, the pursuer lunged forward, clutching at the shoulders of the Negro to drag him to the earth. Twisting, turning, the Negro plunged the knife to its hilt in the breast of his pursuer, who gasped, groaned and ludicrously sank to the ground. Without pausing, the Negro turned down Auburn Avenue and soon was lost in its shadows. …