“A man can always shift for himself better if he has no impediments,” she said, speaking rapidly as if to bolster up her own resolution.  “A woman is always an impediment in a crisis like this.”

In her face he saw what he had never seen before.  There was love in it that would sacrifice everything.  She was sending him away from her, not to save herself but to save him.  Vainly he attempted to protest.  She placed her finger on his lips.  Never before had he felt such over-powering love for her.  And yet she held him in check in spite of himself.

“Take enough to last a few months,” she added hastily.  “Give me the rest.  I can hide it and take care of myself.  Even if they trace me I can get off.  A woman can always do that more easily than a man.  Don’t worry about me.  Go somewhere, start a new life.  If it takes years, I will wait.  Let me know where you are.  We can find some way in which I can come back into your life.  No, no,”—­Carlton had caught her passionately in his arms—­“even that cannot weaken me.  The die is cast.  We must go.”

She tore herself away from him and fled into her room, where, with set face and ashen lips, she stuffed article after article into her grip.  With a heavy heart Carlton did the same.  The bottom had dropped out of everything, yet try as he would to reason it out, he could find no other solution but hers.  To stay was out of the question, if indeed it was not already too late to run.  To go together was equally out of the question.  Constance had shown that.  “Seek the woman,” was the first rule of the police.

As they left the apartment they could see a man across the street following them closely.  They were shadowed.  In despair Carlton turned toward his wife.  A sudden idea had flashed over her.  There were two taxicabs at the station on the corner.

“I will take the first,” she whispered.  “Take the second and follow me.  Then he cannot trace us.”

They were off, leaving the baffled shadow only time to take the numbers of the cab.  Constance had thought of that.  She stopped and Carlton joined her.  After a short walk they took another cab.

He looked at her inquiringly, but she said nothing.  In her eyes he saw the same fire that blazed when she had asked him if there was no way to avoid discovery and had suggested it herself in the forgery.  He reached over and caressed her hand.  She did not withdraw it, but her averted eyes told that she could not trust even herself too far.

As they stood before the gateway to the steps that led down into the long under-river tunnel which was to swallow them so soon and project them, each into a new life, hundreds, perhaps thousands of miles apart, Carlton realized as never before what it all had meant.  He had loved her through all the years, but never with the wild love of the past two weeks.  Now there was nothing but blackness and blankness.  He felt as though the hand of fate was tearing out his wildly beating heart.