The man explained the hours.
“No more to-night?”
“Nothing with a sleeper. Yes, there is, too,” he added. “There is a mail train out of here at three o’clock.”
“All right,” said Hurstwood. “What time does that get to Detroit?”
He was thinking if he could only get there and cross the river into Canada, he could take his time about getting to Montreal. He was relieved to learn that it would reach there by noon.
“Mayhew won’t open the safe till nine,” he thought. “They can’t get on my track before noon.”
Then he thought of Carrie. With what speed must he get her, if he got her 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.