r at all. She would have to come along. He jumped into the nearest cab
standing by.

"To Ogden Place," he said sharply. "I'll give you a dollar more if you
make good time."

The cabby beat his horse into a sort of imitation gallop which was
fairly fast, however. On the way Hurstwood thought what to do. Reaching
the number, he hurried up the steps and did not spare the bell in waking
the servant.

"Is Mrs. Drouet in?" he asked.

"Yes," said the astonished girl.

"Tell her to dress and come to the door at once. Her husband is in the
hospital, injured, and wants to see her."

The servant girl hurried upstairs, convinced by the man's strained and
emphatic manner.

"What!" said Carrie, lighting the gas and searching for her clothes.

"Mr. Drouet is hurt and in the hospital. He wants to see you. The cab's
downstairs."

Carrie dressed very rapidly, and soon appeared below, forgetting
everything save the necessities.

"Drouet is hurt," said Hurstwood quickly. "He wants to see you. Come
quickly."

Carrie was so bewildered that she swallowed the whole story.

"Get in," said Hurstwood, helping her and jumping after.

The cabby began to turn the horse around. "Michigan Central depot," he
said, standing up and speaking so low that Carrie could not hear, "as
fast as you can go."

Chapter XXVIII. A PILGRIM, AN OUTLAW--THE SPIRIT DETAINED

The cab had not travelled a short block before Carrie, settling herself
and 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 very
much disturbed over his own situation, and now that he had Carrie with
him, he only wanted to get safely out of reach of the law. Therefore he
was in no mood for anything save such words as would further his plans
distinctly.

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

"Where is he?"

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

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

"How did he hurt himself?" she asked--meaning what was the nature of his
injuries. Hurstwood understood. He hated