He would get Carrie and go out by the ladies' entrance.

They would have breakfast in some more inconspicuous place.
Across the lobby, however, another individual was surveying him.

He was of a commonplace Irish type, small of stature, cheaply dressed, and with a head that seemed a smaller edition of some huge ward politician's.
This individual had been evidently talking with the clerk, but now he surveyed the ex-manager keenly.
Hurstwood felt the long-range examination and recognized the type.
Instinctively he felt that the man was a detective--that he was being watched.

He hurried across, pretending not to notice, but in his mind was a world of thoughts.

What would happen now?
What could these people do?
He began to trouble concerning the extradition laws.