Sixteen thousand miles, always eastward, on horses, camels, donkeys, trains, and ships; down China to the sea, over that to San Francisco, thence across this bewildering stretch of cities and plains called the United States, always and ever toward New York--and the fool thought he could escape! Thought he was flying, when in truth he was being driven toward a wall in which there would be no breach! Behind and in front the net was closing.

Up to this hour he had been extremely clever in avoiding contact.

This was his first stupid act--thought the fog would serve as an impenetrable cloak.
Meantime, the other man reached into the taxicab and awoke the sleeping chauffeur.
"A hotel," he said.
"Which one ?" "Any one will do." "Yes, sir.

Two dollars." "When we arrive.

No; I'll take the bag inside with me." Inside the cab the fare chuckled.