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 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 get you and bring you out. They said there wasn't any need for alarm, but that 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 so delicate a position he was exceedingly cool. He could only think of how needful it was to make the train and get quietly away. Carrie seemed quite tractable, and he congratulated himself. In due time they reached the depot, and after helping her out he handed the 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 the agent. "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 ticket man 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 two common day coaches. As the train had only recently been made up and few passengers were expected, there were only one or two brakemen waiting. They entered the rear day coach and sat down. Almost immediately, "All aboard," resounded faintly from the outside, and the train started.