"Thank God!" was his first muttered exclamation, as he felt the welcome rush of cold night air and felt himself free again. But the very next moment he turned back instinctively to the door and attempted to push it open. The latch was gone; he had broken it himself. But the door was now locked against him. Of course, this circumstance greatly increased the desire he had for one more interview, however short, with Carrie. He wanted to understand her position. Too much interested in the girl to wish to doubt her, grateful to her for contriving his escape, Max yet found it difficult to reconcile her actions with the honesty her words had caused him to believe in. However, finding that the door was inexorably closed upon him, he saw that there was nothing for it but to take himself off into safer if less interesting regions as quickly as possible. So he got out on the wharf, through and over the timber, and was on the point of crossing to the door in the fence, when he saw a man come quickly through, lock the door behind him and make his way through the piles of timber with the easy, stealthy step of a man accustomed to do this sort of thing, and to do it at night. Before the man got near him, Max, who had stepped back a little under the wall of one of the outhouses, was sure that the newcomer was of doubtful character. When the latter got out into the light thrown by the street-lamp outside the wharf, this impression was confirmed. A little man, young, of slight and active build, with a fair mustache, blue eyes and curly, light hair, he was undoubtedly good-looking, although there was something mean and sinister about the expression of his face. Max could scarcely see all these details; but, as it was, he made out enough for him to experience an idiotic pang of something like jealousy, as he made up his mind on the instant that the object of the young man's visit was to see Carrie. The visitor wore a light overcoat, and had a certain look of being well off, or, at least, well dressed. And, suspicion getting the upper hand again, the thought darted through the mind of Max that it was strange to find so many persons--this was the third of whom he had knowledge--hovering about the shut-up house, when Carrie had represented herself to have been alone for two whole days. Against his better judgment, Max followed the newcomer, step by step, at a safe distance, and raised himself on the timber in such a way as to be able to watch what followed. The man in the light coat made his way with surprising neatness and celerity over the timber to the door of the outhouse, at which he gave two short knocks, a pause, and then two more. After waiting for a few moments, the man repeated this signal, more loudly than before. And then the door opened, and Max heard the voice of Carrie, though it was too dark for him to see her at that distance. "You, Dick? Come in."