al part of town, breasting the current of
pedestrians bound from the theatres to the terminal station. At Sixth
avenue Charley went up one stairway to the elevated, and Evan up the
other. The platform was crowded, obviating the greatest danger of an
encounter. When a train came along Evan lost Charley for a while, for
he could not risk boarding the same car of the train. But he had
little doubt now where Charley was bound for: i.e., Central Bridge, the
end of the line.

Up-town, when the crowd began to thin out a little; Evan satisfied
himself that Charley was still safe in the next car but one ahead.
"Lucky for me," he thought, "they set the only hour at night when the
cars are crowded."

At the end of the line there were still many left to get off and Evan
safely lost himself amongst them. Most of these people (including the
Panama hat) climbed to the viaduct above to take the red trolley cars
of various lines.

Charley boarded a Lafayette avenue car, but displayed an inclination to
remain out on the back platform. This was a poser for Evan, but he
managed with several others to crowd on the front end, which is against
the rules. He found a little seat in the corner of the motorman's
vestibule, where he sat down in the dark. Looking back through the car
he could make out a square of Charley's striped coat through one of the
rear windows. He kept his eye on that.

Charley rode clear to the end of the line at Featherbed lane. Evan, by
lingering to ask the motorman a question as to his supposed direction,
let him get away from the car. Eight people got off at this point.
Five waited at the transverse tracks for the Yonkers car, while three,
of whom Evan and Charley were two, crossed the tracks and kept on
heading North by the automobile highway. They were at the extreme edge
of the town in this direction. The last electric lights were behind
them; only a house or two remained alongside the road, then tall woods
and darkness.

There was no sidewalk; they proceeded up the middle of the road, first
Charley, then the suburbanite, then Evan. Charley frequently looked
over his shoulder, the pale patch of his face revealed in the receding
lights. But Evan kept on boldly, confident that he could not be
recognised with the lights at his back. The suburbanite turned in at
one of the houses; Charley was presently swallowed by the shadow of the
woods. Evan made believe to turn in at the last house, but dropped