Oh, the terror of being a fugitive from justice!
He took out the two boxes and put all the money back.
In his excitement he forgot what he was doing, and put the sums in the wrong boxes.
As he pushed the door to, he thought he remembered doing it wrong and opened the door again.
There were the two boxes mixed.
He took them out and straightened the matter, but now the terror had gone.
Why be afraid?
While the money was in his hand the lock clicked.
It had sprung!
Did he do it?
He grabbed at the knob and pulled vigorously.
It had closed.
Heavens! he was in for it now, sure enough.
The moment he realised that the safe was locked for a surety, the sweat burst out upon his brow and he trembled violently.
He looked about him and decided instantly.
There was no delaying now.
“Supposing I do lay it on the top,” he said, “and go away, they’ll know who took it.
I’m the last to close up.
Besides, other things will happen.”
At once he became the man of action.
“I must get out of this,” he thought.
He hurried into his little room, took down his light overcoat and hat, locked his desk, and grabbed the satchel.
Then he turned out all but one light and opened the door.
He tried to put on his old assured air, but it was almost gone.
He was repenting rapidly.
“I wish I hadn’t done that,” he said.
“That was a mistake.”
He walked steadily down the street, greeting a night watchman whom he knew who was trying doors.
He must get out of the city, and that quickly.
“I wonder how the trains run?” he thought.
Instantly he pulled out his watch and looked.
It was nearly half-past one.
At the first drugstore he stopped, seeing a long-distance telephone booth inside.
It was a famous drugstore, and contained one of the first private telephone booths ever erected.
“I want to use your ‘phone a minute,” he said to the night clerk.
The latter nodded.
“Give me 1643,” he called to Central, after looking up the Michigan Central depot number.
Soon he got the ticket agent.
“How do the trains leave here for Detroit?” he asked.
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.