The cab had not travelled a short block before Carrie, settling herselfand thoroughly waking in the night atmosphere, asked:

"What's the matter with him? Is he hurt badly?"

"It isn't anything very serious," Hurstwood said solemnly. He was verymuch disturbed over his own situation, and now that he had Carrie withhim, he only wanted to get safely out of reach of the law. Therefore hewas in no mood for anything save such words as would further his plansdistinctly.

Carrie did not forget that there was something to be settled between herand Hurstwood, but the thought was ignored in her agitation. The onething was to finish this strange pilgrimage.

"Where is he?"

"Way out on the South Side," said Hurstwood. "We'll have to take thetrain. It's the quickest way."

Carrie said nothing, and the horse gambolled on. The weirdness of thecity by night held her attention. She looked at the long receding rowsof lamps and studied the dark, silent houses.

"How did he hurt himself?" she asked--meaning what was the nature of hisinjuries. Hurstwood understood. He hated to lie any more than necessary,and yet he wanted no protests until he was out of danger.

"I don't know exactly," he said. "They just called me up to go and getyou and bring you out. They said there wasn't any need for alarm, butthat I shouldn't fail to bring you."

The man's serious manner convinced Carrie, and she became silent,wondering.

Hurstwood examined his watch and urged the man to hurry. For one in sodelicate a position he was exceedingly cool. He could only think of howneedful it was to make the train and get quietly away. Carrie seemedquite tractable, and he congratulated himself.

In due time they reached the depot, and after helping her out he handedthe man a five-dollar bill and hurried on.

"You wait here," he said to Carrie, when they reached the waiting-room,"while I get the tickets."

"Have I much time to catch that train for Detroit?" he asked of theagent.

"Four minutes," said the latter.

He paid for two tickets as circumspectly as possible.

"Is it far?" said Carrie, as he hurried back.

"Not very," he said. "We must get right in."

He pushed her before him at the gate, stood between her and the ticketman while the latter punched their tickets, so that she could not see,and then hurried after.

There was a long line of express and passenger cars and one or twocommon day coaches. As the train had only recently been made up and fewpassengers were expected, there were only one or two brakemen waiting.They entered the rear day coach and sat down. Almost immediately, "Allaboard," resounded faintly from the outside, and the train started.

Carrie began to think it was a little bit curious--this going to adepot--but said nothing. The whole incident was so out of the naturalthat she did not attach too much weight to anything she imagined.

"How have you been?" asked Hurstwood gently, for he now breathed easier.

"Very well," said Carrie, who was so disturbed that she could not bringa proper attitude to bear in the matter. She was still nervous to reachDrouet and see what could be the matter. Hurstwood contemplated her andfelt this. He was not disturbed that it should be so. He did not troublebecause she was moved sympathetically in the matter. It was one of thequalities in her which pleased him exceedingly. He was only thinking howhe should explain. Even this was not the most serious thing in his mind,however. His own deed and present flight were the great shadows whichweighed upon him.

"What a fool I was to do that," he said over and over. "What a mistake!"

In his sober senses, he could scarcely realise that the thing had beendone. He could not begin to feel that he was a fugitive from justice. Hehad often read of such things, and had thought they must be terrible,but now that the thing was upon him, he only sat and looked into thepast. The future was a thing which concerned the Canadian line. Hewanted to reach that. As for the rest, he surveyed his actions for theevening, and counted them parts of a great mistake.

"Still," he said, "what could I have done?"

Then he would decide to make the best of it, and would begin to do so bystarting the whole inquiry over again. It was a fruitless, harassinground, and left him in a queer mood to deal with the proposition he hadin the presence of Carrie.

The train clacked through the yards along the lake front, and ran ratherslowly to Twenty-fourth Street. Brakes and signals were visible without.The engine gave short calls with its whistle, and frequently the bellrang. Several brakemen came through, bearing lanterns. They werelocking the vestibules and putting the cars in order for a long run.

Presently it began to gain speed, and Carrie saw the silent streetsflashing by in rapid succession. The engine also began its whistle-callsof four parts, with which it signalled danger to important crossings.

"Is it very far?" asked Carrie.

"Not so very," said Hurstwood. He could hardly repress a smile at hersimplicity. He wanted to explain and conciliate her, but he also wantedto be well out of Chicago.

In the lapse of another half-hour it became apparent to Carrie that itwas quite a run to wherever he was taking her, anyhow.

"Is it in Chicago?" she asked nervously. They were now far beyond thecity limits, and the train was scudding across the Indiana line at agreat rate.

"No," he said, "not where we are going."

There was something in the way he said this which aroused her in aninstant.

Her pretty brow began to contract.

"We are going to see Charlie, aren't we?" she asked.

He felt that the time was up. An explanation might as well come now aslater. Therefore, he shook his head in the most gentle negative.

"What?" said Carrie. She was nonplussed at the possibility of the errandbeing different from what she had thought.

He only looked at her in the most kindly and mollifying way.

"Well, where are you taking me, then?" she asked, her voice showing thequality of fright.

"I'll tell you, Carrie, if you'll be quiet. I want you to come alongwith me to another city."

"Oh," said Carrie, her voice rising into a weak cry. "Let me off. Idon't want to go with you."

She was quite appalled at the man's audacity. This was something whichhad never for a moment entered her head. Her one thought now was to getoff and away. If only the flying train could be stopped, the terribletrick would be amended.

She arose and tried to push out into the aisle--anywhere. She knew shehad to do something. Hurstwood laid a gentle hand on her.

"Sit still, Carrie," he said. "Sit still. It won't do you any good toget up here. Listen to me and I'll tell you what I'll do. Wait amoment."

She was pushing at his knees, but he only pulled her back. No one sawthis little altercation, for very few persons were in the car, and theywere attempting to doze.

"I won't," said Carrie, who was, nevertheless, complying against herwill. "Let me go," she said. "How dare you?" and large tears began togather in her eyes.

Hurstwood was now fully aroused to the immediate difficulty, and ceasedto think of his own situation. He must do something with this girl, orshe would cause him trouble. He tried the art of persuasion with all hispowers aroused.

"Look here now, Carrie," he said, "you mustn't act this way. I didn'tmean to hurt your feelings. I don't want to do anything to make you feelbad."

"Oh," sobbed Carrie, "oh, oh--oo--o!"

"There, there," he said, "you mustn't cry. Won't you listen to me?Listen to me a minute, and I'll tell you why I came to do this thing. Icouldn't help it. I assure you I couldn't. Won't you listen?"

Her sobs disturbed him so that he was quite sure she did not hear a wordhe said.

"Won't you listen?" he asked.

"No, I won't," said Carrie, flashing up. "I want you to take me out ofthis, or I'll tell the conductor. I won't go with you. It's a shame,"and again sobs of fright cut off her desire for expression.

Hurstwood listened with some astonishment. He felt that she had justcause for feeling as she did, and yet he wished that he could straightenthis thing out quickly. Shortly the conductor would come through for thetickets. He wanted no noise, no trouble of any kind. Before everythinghe must make her quiet.

"You couldn't get out until the train stops again," said Hurstwood. "Itwon't be very long until we reach another station. You can get out thenif you want to. I won't stop you. All I want you to do is to listen amoment. You'll let me tell you, won't you?"

Carrie seemed not to listen. She only turned her head toward the window,where outside all was black. The train was speeding with steady graceacross the fields and through patches of wood. The long whistles camewith sad, musical effect as the lonely woodland crossings wereapproached.

Now the conductor entered the car and took up the one or two fares thathad been added at Chicago. He approached Hurstwood, who handed out thetickets. Poised as she was to act, Carrie made no move. She did not lookabout.

When the conductor had gone again Hurstwood felt relieved.

"You're angry at me because I deceived you," he said. "I didn't mean to,Carrie. As I live I didn't. I couldn't help it. I couldn't stay awayfrom you after the first time I saw you."

He was ignoring the last deception as something that might go by theboard. He wanted to convince her that his wife could no longer be afactor in their relationship. The money he had stolen he tried to shutout of his mind.

"Don't talk to me," said Carrie, "I hate you. I want you to go away fromme. I am going to get out at the very next station."

She was in a tremble of excitement and opposition as she spoke.

"All right," he said, "but you'll hear me out, won't you? After all youhave said about loving me, you might hear me. I don't want to do you anyharm. I'll give you the money to go back with when you go. I merely wantto tell you, Carrie. You can't stop me from loving you, whatever you maythink."

He looked at her tenderly, but received no reply.

"You think I have deceived you badly, but I haven't. I didn't do itwillingly. I'm through with my wife. She hasn't any claims on me. I'llnever see her any more. That's why I'm here to-night. That's why I cameand got you."

"You said Charlie was hurt," said Carrie, savagely. "You deceived me.You've been deceiving me all the time, and now you want to force me torun away with you."

She was so excited that she got up and tried to get by him again. He lether, and she took another seat. Then he followed.

"Don't run away from me, Carrie," he said gently. "Let me explain. Ifyou will only hear me out you will see where I stand. I tell you my wifeis nothing to me. She hasn't been anything for years or I wouldn't haveever come near you. I'm going to get a divorce just as soon as I can.I'll never see her again. I'm done with all that. You're the only personI want. If I can have you I won't ever think of another woman again."

Carrie heard all this in a very ruffled state. It sounded sincereenough, however, despite all he had done. There was a tenseness inHurstwood's voice and manner which could but have some effect. She didnot want anything to do with him. He was married, he had deceived heronce, and now again, and she thought him terrible. Still there issomething in such daring and power which is fascinating to a woman,especially if she can be made to feel that it is all prompted by love ofher.

The progress of the train was having a great deal to do with thesolution of this difficult situation. The speeding wheels anddisappearing country put Chicago farther and farther behind. Carriecould feel that she was being borne a long distance off--that the enginewas making an almost through run to some distant city. She felt at timesas if she could cry out and make such a row that some one would come toher aid; at other times it seemed an almost useless thing--so far wasshe from any aid, no matter what she did. All the while Hurstwood wasendeavouring to formulate his plea in such a way that it would strikehome and bring her into sympathy with him.

"I was simply put where I didn't know what else to do."

Carrie deigned no suggestion of hearing this.

"When I saw you wouldn't come unless I could marry you, I decided to puteverything else behind me and get you to come away with me. I'm goingoff now to another city. I want to go to Montreal for a while, and thenanywhere you want to. We'll go and live in New York, if you say."

"I'll not have anything to do with you," said Carrie. "I want to get offthis train. Where are we going?"

"To Detroit," said Hurstwood.

"Oh!" said Carrie, in a burst of anguish. So distant and definite apoint seemed to increase the difficulty.

"Won't you come along with me?" he said, as if there was great dangerthat she would not. "You won't need to do anything but travel with me.I'll not trouble you in any way. You can see Montreal and New York, andthen if you don't want to stay you can go back. It will be better thantrying to go back to-night."

The first gleam of fairness shone in this proposition for Carrie. Itseemed a plausible thing to do, much as she feared his opposition if shetried to carry it out. Montreal and New York! Even now she was speedingtoward those great, strange lands, and could see them if she liked. Shethought, but made no sign.

Hurstwood thought he saw a shade of compliance in this. He redoubled hisardour.

"Think," he said, "what I've given up. I can't go back to Chicago anymore. I've got to stay away and live alone now, if you don't come withme. You won't go back on me entirely, will you, Carrie?"

"I don't want you to talk to me," she answered forcibly.

Hurstwood kept silent for a while.

Carrie felt the train to be slowing down. It was the moment to act ifshe was to act at all. She stirred uneasily.

"Don't think of going, Carrie," he said. "If you ever cared for me atall, come along and let's start right. I'll do whatever you say. I'llmarry you, or I'll let you go back. Give yourself time to think it over.I wouldn't have wanted you to come if I hadn't loved you. I tell you,Carrie, before God, I can't live without you. I won't!"

There was the tensity of fierceness in the man's plea which appealeddeeply to her sympathies. It was a dissolving fire which was actuatinghim now. He was loving her too intensely to think of giving her up inthis, his hour of distress. He clutched her hand nervously and pressedit with all the force of an appeal.

The train was now all but stopped. It was running by some cars on a sidetrack. Everything outside was dark and dreary. A few sprinkles on thewindow began to indicate that it was raining. Carrie hung in a quandary,balancing between decision and helplessness. Now the train stopped, andshe was listening to his plea. The engine backed a few feet and all wasstill.

She wavered, totally unable to make a move. Minute after minute slippedby and still she hesitated, he pleading.

"Will you let me come back if I want to?" she asked, as if she now hadthe upper hand and her companion was utterly subdued.

"Of course," he answered, "you know I will."

Carrie only listened as one who has granted a temporary amnesty. Shebegan to feel as if the matter were in her hands entirely.

The train was again in rapid motion. Hurstwood changed the subject.

"Aren't you very tired?" he said.

"No," she answered.

"Won't you let me get you a berth in the sleeper?"

She shook her head, though for all her distress and his trickery she wasbeginning to notice what she had always felt--his thoughtfulness.

"Oh, yes," he said, "you will feel so much better."

She shook her head.

"Let me fix my coat for you, anyway," and he arose and arranged hislight coat in a comfortable position to receive her head.

"There," he said tenderly, "now see if you can't rest a little." Hecould have kissed her for her compliance. He took his seat beside herand thought a moment.

"I believe we're in for a heavy rain," he said.

"So it looks," said Carrie, whose nerves were quieting under the soundof the rain drops, driven by a gusty wind, as the train swept onfrantically through the shadow to a newer world.

The fact that he had in a measure mollified Carrie was a source ofsatisfaction to Hurstwood, but it furnished only the most temporaryrelief. Now that her opposition was out of the way, he had all of histime to devote to the consideration of his own error.

His condition was bitter in the extreme, for he did not want themiserable sum he had stolen. He did not want to be a thief. That sum orany other could never compensate for the state which he had thusfoolishly doffed. It could not give him back his host of friends, hisname, his house and family, nor Carrie, as he had meant to have her. Hewas shut out from Chicago--from his easy, comfortable state. He hadrobbed himself of his dignity, his merry meetings, his pleasantevenings. And for what? The more he thought of it the more unbearable itbecame. He began to think that he would try and restore himself to hisold state. He would return the miserable thievings of the night andexplain. Perhaps Moy would understand. Perhaps they would forgive himand let him come back.

By noontime the train rolled into Detroit and he began to feelexceedingly nervous. The police must be on his track by now. They hadprobably notified all the police of the big cities, and detectives wouldbe watching for him. He remembered instances in which defaulters hadbeen captured. Consequently, he breathed heavily and paled somewhat. Hishands felt as if they must have something to do. He simulated interestin several scenes without which he did not feel. He repeatedly beat hisfoot upon the floor.

Carrie noticed his agitation, but said nothing. She had no idea what itmeant or that it was important.

He wondered now why he had not asked whether this train went on throughto Montreal or some Canadian point. Perhaps he could have saved time. Hejumped up and sought the conductor.

"Does any part of this train go to Montreal?" he asked.

"Yes, the next sleeper back does."

He would have asked more, but it did not seem wise, so he decided toinquire at the depot.

The train rolled into the yards, clanging and puffing.

"I think we had better go right on through to Montreal," he said toCarrie. "I'll see what the connections are when we get off."

He was exceedingly nervous, but did his best to put on a calm exterior.Carrie only looked at him with large, troubled eyes. She was driftingmentally, unable to say to herself what to do.

The train stopped and Hurstwood led the way out. He looked warily aroundhim, pretending to look after Carrie. Seeing nothing that indicatedstudied observation, he made his way to the ticket office.

"The next train for Montreal leaves when?" he asked.

"In twenty minutes," said the man.

He bought two tickets and Pullman berths. Then he hastened back toCarrie.

"We go right out again," he said, scarcely noticing that Carrie lookedtired and weary.

"I wish I was out of all this," she exclaimed gloomily.

"You'll feel better when we reach Montreal," he said.

"I haven't an earthly thing with me," said Carrie; "not even ahandkerchief."

"You can buy all you want as soon as you get there, dearest," heexplained. "You can call in a dressmaker."

Now the crier called the train ready and they got on. Hurstwood breatheda sigh of relief as it started. There was a short run to the river, andthere they were ferried over. They had barely pulled the train off theferry-boat when he settled back with a sigh.

"It won't be so very long now," he said, remembering her in his relief."We get there the first thing in the morning."

Carrie scarcely deigned to reply.

"I'll see if there is a dining-car," he added. "I'm hungry."