That night Hurstwood remained down town entirely, going to the PalmerHouse for a bed after his work was through. He was in a fevered state ofmind, owing to the blight his wife's action threatened to cast upon hisentire future. While he was not sure how much significance might beattached to the threat she had made, he was sure that her attitude, iflong continued, would cause him no end of trouble. She was determined,and had worsted him in a very important contest. How would it be fromnow on? He walked the floor of his little office, and later that of hisroom, putting one thing and another together to no avail.

Mrs. Hurstwood, on the contrary, had decided not to lose her advantageby inaction. Now that she had practically cowed him, she would follow upher work with demands, the acknowledgment of which would make her wordlaw in the future. He would have to pay her the money which she wouldnow regularly demand or there would be trouble. It did not matter whathe did. She really did not care whether he came home any more or not.The household would move along much more pleasantly without him, and shecould do as she wished without consulting any one. Now she proposed toconsult a lawyer and hire a detective. She would find out at once justwhat advantages she could gain.

Hurstwood walked the floor, mentally arranging the chief points of hissituation. "She has that property in her name," he kept saying tohimself. "What a fool trick that was. Curse it! What a fool move thatwas."

He also thought of his managerial position. "If she raises a row nowI'll lose this thing. They won't have me around if my name gets in thepapers. My friends, too!" He grew more angry as he thought of the talkany action on her part would create. How would the papers talk about it?Every man he knew would be wondering. He would have to explain and denyand make a general mark of himself. Then Moy would come and confer withhim and there would be the devil to pay.

Many little wrinkles gathered between his eyes as he contemplated this,and his brow moistened. He saw no solution of anything--not a loopholeleft.

Through all this thoughts of Carrie flashed upon him, and theapproaching affair of Saturday. Tangled as all his matters were, he didnot worry over that. It was the one pleasing thing in this whole rout oftrouble. He could arrange that satisfactorily, for Carrie would be gladto wait, if necessary. He would see how things turned out to-morrow, andthen he would talk to her. They were going to meet as usual. He saw onlyher pretty face and neat figure and wondered why life was not arrangedso that such joy as he found with her could be steadily maintained. Howmuch more pleasant it would be. Then he would take up his wife's threatagain, and the wrinkles and moisture would return.

In the morning he came over from the hotel and opened his mail, butthere was nothing in it outside the ordinary run. For some reason hefelt as if something might come that way, and was relieved when all theenvelopes had been scanned and nothing suspicious noticed. He began tofeel the appetite that had been wanting before he had reached theoffice, and decided before going out to the park to meet Carrie to dropin at the Grand Pacific and have a pot of coffee and some rolls. Whilethe danger had not lessened, it had not as yet materialised, and withhim no news was good news. If he could only get plenty of time to think,perhaps something would turn up. Surely, surely, this thing would notdrift along to catastrophe and he not find a way out.

His spirits fell, however, when, upon reaching the park, he waited andwaited and Carrie did not come. He held his favourite post for an houror more, then arose and began to walk about restlessly. Could somethinghave happened out there to keep her away? Could she have been reached byhis wife? Surely not. So little did he consider Drouet that it neveronce occurred to him to worry about his finding out. He grew restless ashe ruminated, and then decided that perhaps it was nothing. She had notbeen able to get away this morning. That was why no letter notifying himhad come. He would get one to-day. It would probably be on his desk whenhe got back. He would look for it at once.

After a time he gave up waiting and drearily headed for the Madison car.To add to his distress, the bright blue sky became overcast with littlefleecy clouds which shut out the sun. The wind veered to the east, andby the time he reached his office it was threatening to drizzle allafternoon.

He went in and examined his letters, but there was nothing from Carrie.Fortunately, there was nothing from his wife either. He thanked hisstars that he did not have to confront that proposition just now when heneeded to think so much. He walked the floor again, pretending to be inan ordinary mood, but secretly troubled beyond the expression of words.

At one-thirty he went to Rector's for lunch, and when he returned amessenger was waiting for him. He looked at the little chap with afeeling of doubt.

"I'm to bring an answer," said the boy.

Hurstwood recognised his wife's writing. He tore it open and readwithout a show of feeling. It began in the most formal manner and wassharply and coldly worded throughout.

"I want you to send the money I asked for at once. I need it to carryout my plans. You can stay away if you want to. It doesn't matter in theleast. But I must have some money. So don't delay, but send it by theboy."

When he had finished it, he stood holding it in his hands. The audacityof the thing took his breath. It roused his ire also--the deepestelement of revolt in him. His first impulse was to write but four wordsin reply--"Go to the devil!"--but he compromised by telling the boy thatthere would be no reply. Then he sat down in his chair and gazed withoutseeing, contemplating the result of his work. What would she do aboutthat? The confounded wretch! Was she going to try to bulldoze him intosubmission? He would go up there and have it out with her, that's whathe would do. She was carrying things with too high a hand. These werehis first thoughts.

Later, however, his old discretion asserted itself. Something had to bedone. A climax was near and she would not sit idle. He knew her wellenough to know that when she had decided upon a plan she would follow itup. Possibly matters would go into a lawyer's hands at once.

"Damn her!" he said softly, with his teeth firmly set, "I'll make it hotfor her if she causes me trouble. I'll make her change her tone if Ihave to use force to do it!"

He arose from his chair and went and looked out into the street. Thelong drizzle had begun. Pedestrians had turned up collars, and trousersat the bottom. Hands were hidden in the pockets of the umbrellaless;umbrellas were up. The street looked like a sea of round black clothroofs, twisting, bobbing, moving. Trucks and vans were rattling in anoisy line and everywhere men were shielding themselves as best theycould. He scarcely noticed the picture. He was forever confronting hiswife, demanding of her to change her attitude toward him before heworked her bodily harm.

At four o'clock another note came, which simply said that if the moneywas not forthcoming that evening the matter would be laid beforeFitzgerald and Moy on the morrow, and other steps would be taken to getit.

Hurstwood almost exclaimed out loud at the insistency of this thing.Yes, he would send her the money. He'd take it to her--he would go upthere and have a talk with her, and that at once.

He put on his hat and looked around for his umbrella. He would have somearrangement of this thing.

He called a cab and was driven through the dreary rain to the NorthSide. On the way his temper cooled as he thought of the details of thecase. What did she know? What had she done? Maybe she'd got hold ofCarrie, who knows--or--or Drouet. Perhaps she really had evidence, andwas prepared to fell him as a man does another from secret ambush. Shewas shrewd. Why should she taunt him this way unless she had goodgrounds?

He began to wish that he had compromised in some way or other--that hehad sent the money. Perhaps he could do it up here. He would go in andsee, anyhow. He would have no row.

By the time he reached his own street he was keenly alive to thedifficulties of his situation and wished over and over that somesolution would offer itself, that he could see his way out. He alightedand went up the steps to the front door, but it was with a nervouspalpitation of the heart. He pulled out his key and tried to insert it,but another key was on the inside. He shook at the knob, but the doorwas locked. Then he rang the bell. No answer. He rang again--this timeharder. Still no answer. He jangled it fiercely several times insuccession, but without avail. Then he went below.

There was a door which opened under the steps into the kitchen,protected by an iron grating, intended as a safeguard against burglars.When he reached this he noticed that it also was bolted and that thekitchen windows were down. What could it mean? He rang the bell and thenwaited. Finally, seeing that no one was coming, he turned and went backto his cab.

"I guess they've gone out," he said apologetically to the individual whowas hiding his red face in a loose tarpaulin rain-coat.

"I saw a young girl up in that winder," returned the cabby.

Hurstwood looked, but there was no face there now. He climbed moodilyinto the cab, relieved and distressed.

So this was the game, was it? Shut him out and make him pay. Well, bythe Lord, that did beat all!