to drop
from faintness and exhaustion. He was astounded, even alarmed, to find
that his strength had been so gravely depleted by confinement and lack
of nourishment.

They were inside the city walls. Ahead of them, in that labyrinth of
filthy streets lay the way to the distant square. His arm was now about
her waist, for she was half-fainting; he could hear her gasping and
moaning softly, inarticulate cries of despair. Switch-lights blinked in
the distance. Off to the right of them windows showed lights; the clang
of a locomotive bell came to them as from a great distance.

Their progress was abruptly halted by the appearance of a man ahead,
standing like a statue in the middle of the network of tracks. They
stumbled toward him, not knowing whether he was friend or foe. One look
into their faces, aided by the flare of a yardman's lantern, and the
fellow turned tail and fled, shouting as he did so.

Following a vivid flash of lightning, two shots were fired by the men
who were now plunging up through the gates, a hundred yards or more
away. The same flash of lightning showed to King the narrow, muddy
street that stretched ahead of them, lined with low, ugly houses of a
nondescript character. Instead of doing the obvious thing, he turned
sharply to the left, between the lines of freight cars. Their progress
was slow; both were ready to drop; the way was dark and unknown to
them.

At last they came to the end of their rope: they were literally up
against the great city wall! They had reached the limits of the railway
yards and were blocked on all sides by they knew not how many rows of
cars. Somewhere off to the right there were streets and houses and
people, but they did not have the strength to try to reach them.

A car door stood open in front of them. He waited for a second flash of
lightning to reveal to him the nature of its interior. It was quite
empty. Without hesitation he clambered in and pulled her up after him.
They fell over, completely fagged.

A few minutes later the storm broke. He managed to close the door
against the driving torrents.

She was sobbing plaintively, poor, wet, bedraggled sweetheart--he called
her that, although she did not hear him.

"We've fooled them," he managed to whisper, close to her ear. "They
won't look here. You're safe, Loraine. 'Gad, I'd like to see any one get
you away from me now."

She pressed his arm, that was all. He found himself wondering what
answer she would