Clay stopped in front of Kitty and said he hoped she would have no
trouble making her transfer in the city. The girl was no fool. She
had sensed the antagonism that had flared up between them in that
moment when they had faced each other five minutes before.

"Where's Mr. Durand?" she asked.

"He got off."

"But the train hasn't stopped."

"It's just crawlin' along, and he was in a hurry."

Her gaze rested upon an angry bruise on his cheek. It had not been
there when last she saw him. She started to speak, then changed her
mind.

Clay seated himself beside her. "Chicago is a right big town, I
reckon. If I can help you any, Miss Kitty, I'd be glad to do what I
can."

The girl did not answer. She was trying to work out this puzzle of why
a man should get off before the train reached the station.

"I'm a stranger myself, but I expect I can worry along somehow," he
went on cheerfully.

"Mr. Durand didn't say anything to me about getting off," she persisted.