 23 A piece of strategy. A few idlers were on the platform of the station as we approached, with much apparent unconcern. Our hands in our overcoat pockets were the weapons lay. Where's the train?" I asked, looking at the bear track. Yonder, grunted a native, pointing his thumb lazily up the road where the engine lay by the watering tank, slaking its thirst. Well, just let me and Lockhart walk ahead, said Fitzhugh gruffly, as we started along the track. I shouldn't have the first idea what we was here for, if he was to be knocked over. Fitzhugh could not be much more in the dark in this point than I, but I let him have his way. If someone was to be shot, I was ready to resign my claim to the distinction in favor of the first comer. There were perhaps a score of people about the car. There's Abrams, said Lockhart. There's no danger, then, said Fitzhugh with a grin. See, he's beckoning to us. We hastened forward eagerly. What is it? I asked. There's no one here, said Abrams, with a puzzled look. Well, this car didn't come alone, I returned. Have you asked the engineer? Yes. And the fireman? Yes. And they say that it's against the rules to talk. Nonsense! I'll see them myself. And I went forward to the engine. The engineer was as close-mouthed as though words were going at a dollar a piece and the market bounding upward. He declined dinner, could not be induced to come and take a drink, and all that could be got out of him was that he was going back to Niles, where he would stop until he got orders from the superintendent. When I tried to question the fireman the engineer recovered his tongue and had so many orders to be attended to that my words were lost in a rattle of coal and clang of iron. And the engine, having drunk its fill, changed its labored breathing to a hissing and swishing of steam that sent the hut vapor far on both sides, and then, gathering speed, puffed its swift way back the road by which it had come, leaving the car deserted on a siding. Here's a go! cried Fitzhugh, a regular puzzler. Guess it's none of the gang after all, said Lockhart. Abram shook his head. Don't you fool yourself, he said. They've landed below here and maybe they're in town while we've got our mouths open fly catching around an empty car. Good boy, Abrams, I said. My opinion exactly. And what's to be done then, he asked anxiously. For the first thing to visit the telegraph office at once. The operator was just locking his little room in the station as we came up. No, sir, no telegrams, he said. None for anybody. This is a new way of running trains, I said with a show of indifference, nodding toward the empty car. Oh, there was a party came up, said the agent. A dozen fellows or more. Bill said they took a fancy to get off a mile or more down here, and as they were an ugly-looking crew, he didn't say anything to stop them. I don't see what they can be doing up in this part of the country, I returned innocently. I guess they know their business. Anyway, it's none of mine, said the agent. Do you go in here, sir? Well, it will save you from a wedding. We had been walking toward the hotel, and the chatty agent left us under its veranda, just as the light drops began to pattern down in the dust of the road, and to dim the outlines of the distant hills. I reckon that's the gang, said Fitzhugh. I told you so, said Abrams. I knew it was one of Tom Terrell's sneaky tricks. Shall we take a look for him? asked Lockhart. There's no need, I replied. The home guard of our party received the news calmly. Wainwright had established a modus vivendi with his young charge, and I saw that he managed to get a word out of him now and then. I had to abandon the theory that the boy was dumb, but I suspected that it was fear rather than discretion that bridled his tongue. Do you think the gang have got into town? asked one. They'll have wet jackets if they are on the road. I returned, looking at the rain outside. Hadn't we better find out? inquired Wainwright. Are you in a hurry? I asked in turn. The landlord has promised to send up a good dinner in a few minutes. But you see, yes, I see, I interrupted. I see this, that they are here, that there are a dozen or more of them, and that they are ready for any devil-tree. What more can we find out by roaming over the country? Wainwright nodded his agreement with me. And then, I continued, they won't try to do anything until after dark, not before the middle of the night, I should say, or until the townspeople have gone to bed. You're right, sir, said Abrams. A dark night and a clear field suits that gang best. Well, here's the dinner, said I, so you can make yourselves easy. Porter, you may keep an eye on the stairway, and Brown may watch from the windows. The rest of us will fall too. In the midst of the meal Porter came in. Darby Meekers in the office below, he announced. Very good, I said. Just take Fitzhugh and Wilson with you, and ask Mr. Meeker to join us. The men looked blank. Porter was the first to speak. You don't mean— I mean to bring him up here, I said, blandly, rising from the table. I suppose, though, it's my place as host to do the honors. No, no! came in chorus from the men. Come on, Porter, Fitzhugh, Wilson, I said, and then added sharply. Sit down the rest of you. We don't need a regiment to ask a man to dinner. The others sank back into their seats, and the three I had named followed me meekly down the hall and stairs. I had never had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Meeker face to face, but I doubted not what I should be able to pick him out. I was right. I knew him the moment I saw him. He was tall and broad of shoulder, long of arm, shifty of eye, and his square jaw was covered with a stubby red beard. His color heightened as we walked into the office and cut off the two doors of retreat. An unexpected pleasure, I said, giving him good day. His hand slipped to the side pocket of his sack coat, and then back again, and he made a remark in an undertone that I fear was not intended for a pleasant greeting. There's a little dinner of a few friends going on upstairs, I said politely. Won't you join us? Meeker scowled a moment with evident surprise. No, I won't, he growled. But it is a sad case for a man to dine alone, I said smoothly. You will be very welcome. No, sir, said he, looking furtively at my men drawing near between him and the doors. But I insist, I said politely. Then I added in a lower tone meant for him alone. Resist, you hound, and I'll have you carried up by your four legs. His face was working with fear and passion. He looked at the blocked way with the eye of a baited animal. I'll be damned first, he cried, and, seizing a chair, he whirled around, dashed it through a window, and leaped through the jagged pains before it could spring forward to stop him. Round in front, men, I cried, motioning my followers to sally through the door. Bring him back! And an instant later I leaped through the window after the flying enemy. There was a fall of six feet, and as I landed on a pile of broken glass, a bit shaken, with the rain beating on my head, it was a few seconds before I recovered my wits. When I looked, no one was in sight. I heard the men running on the porch of the hotel, so the enemy was not to be sought that way. I set off full speed for the other corner, fifty yards away, half suspecting an ambush. But at the turn I stopped. The rain-soaked street was empty for a block before me. Far down the next block, a plodding figure under an umbrella bent to the gusts of the wind, and tried to ward off the driving spray of the storm. But Darby Meeker had disappeared as though the earth had swallowed him up. Where is he? cried Porter, the first of my men to reach my side. I shrugged my shoulders. I haven't seen him. He didn't come our way. That I'll swear, panted fits you. He was out of sight before I got my feet, said I. They must have a hiding-place close by. He must have jumped the fence here, said Wilson, pointing to a cottage just below the hotel's backyard. I'll see about it. And he vaulted the pickets and looked about the place. He was back in a minute with a shake of the head. Well, it's no great matter, I said. We can get along without another guest for the afternoon. Now get under cover, boys, or you'll be soaked through. The landlord met us with an air half anxious, half angry. I'd like to know who's to pay for this, he cried. There's a sash and four panes of glass gone to smithereens. The gentleman who just went out will be glad to pay for it, if you'll call it to his attention, I said blandly. I'll have the law on him. Shouted the landlord, getting red in the face. And if he's a friend of yours, you'd better settle for him, or it'll be the worst for him. I'm afraid he isn't a friend of mine, I said dubiously. He didn't appear to take that view of it. That's so, admitted the landlord. But I don't know his name, and somebody's got to settle for that glass. I obliged the landlord, with Mr. Meeker's name, and with the bestowal of this poor satisfaction, returned to the interrupted meal. Well, I reckon he wouldn't have been very pleasant company if you'd got him, said one of the men consolingly, when we had told our tale of the search for a guest. I suspect he would be less disagreeable in here than out with his gang, I returned dryly. And turned the subject. I did not care to discuss my plan to get a hostage, now that it had failed. The gray day plashed slowly toward nightfall. The rain fell by fits and starts, now with a sudden dash, now gently, as though it were only of half a mind to fall at all. But the wind blew strong, and the clouds that drove up from the far south were dark enough to have borne threats of a coming deluge. As the time wore on, I suspected that my men grew uneasy, wondering what we were there for, and why I did not make some move. Then I reflected that this could not be. It was I who was wondering. The men were accustomed to let me do their thinking for them, and could be troubled no more here than in San Francisco. But what was I expected to do? Where could my orders be? Had they gone astray? Had the plans of the unknown come to disaster through the difficulty of getting the telegraph on Sunday? The office here was closed. The unknown, being a woman, I un-gallantly reflected, would have neglected to take so small a circumstance into consideration, and she might even now be besieging the telegraph office in San Francisco in a vain effort to get word to live or more. On this thought I bestirred myself, and after much trouble had speech with the young man who combined in his person the offices of telegraph operator, station master, ticket seller, freight agent, and baggage handler for the place. He objected to opening the office out of office hours. There might be inducements discovered that would make it worth your while, I suppose, I said, jingling some silver carelessly in my pocket. He smiled. Well, I don't care if I do, he replied. Whatever you think is fair, of course. It was more than I thought fair, but the agent thawed into friendship at once, and expressed his readiness to call San Francisco till he got an answer, if it took till dark. I might have saved my trouble and my coin. San Francisco replied with some emphasis that there was nothing for me, and never had been, and who was I, anyhow? There was nothing to be done. I must possess my soul and patience in the belief that the unknown knew what she was about, and that I should get my orders in due time, probably after nightfall, when darkness would cover any necessary movement. But if I could shift the worry and responsibility of the present situation on the unknown, there was another trouble that loomed larger and more perplexing before my mind with each passing hour. If the mission of today were prolonged into the morrow, what was to become of the Omega deal, and where would Dodridge Knapp's plans of fortune be found? I smiled to think that I should concern myself with this question when I knew that Dodridge Knapp's men were waiting and watching for my first movement with orders that probably did not stop at murder itself. Yet my trouble of mind increased with the passing time as I vainly endeavored to devise some plan to meet the difficulty that had been made for me. But as I saw no way to straighten out this tangle, I turned my attention to the boy in the hope of getting from him some information that might throw light on the situation. He's as shy as a young quail, said Wainwright, when my advances were received in stubborn silence. You seem to be getting along pretty well with him, I suggested. Yes, sir, he'll talk a bit with me, but he's as close mouth the chap as you'll find in the state, sir, unless it's one of them deep and dummies. I made another unsuccessful attempt to cultivate the acquaintance of my charge. You've got a day's job before you if you get him to open his head, said Wainwright, amused at the failure of my efforts as an infant charmer. What has he been talking about, I inquired, somewhat disgusted. The train, chuckled Wainwright, blamed if I think he's seen anything else since he started. The train? Yes, the one we come on. He's been talking about it and wondering what I'd do with it and without it till I reckon we've covered pretty near everything that could happen to a fellow with a train or without one. Is that the only subject of interest? Well, he did go so far as to say that the milk was different here and that he wanted a kind of cake we didn't get at dinner. I attacked the young man on his weak point and got some brief answers in reply to my remarks on the attractiveness of locomotives and the virtues of cars. But as any venture away from the important subject was met with the silence of the claim, I had at last to give up with a wild desire to shake the young man until some more satisfactory idea should come uppermost. As darkness came on, the apprehensions of danger which had made no impression on me by daylight began to settle strongly on my spirits. The wind that dashed the raindrops in gusts on the pains seemed to whistle a warning and the splash of the water outside was as the muttering of a tale of melancholy in an unknown tongue. I concealed my fears and depressions from the men and with the lighting of the lamps made my dispositions to meet any attack that might come. I had satisfied myself that the rear bedroom that faced the south could not be entered from the outside without the aid of ladders. The parlor showed a sheer drop to the street on the west and I felt assured we were safe on that side. But the front windows of the parlor and the front bedroom which joined it opened on the veranda roof in common with a dozen other rooms. Inside the hallway, perhaps eight feet wide and twenty-five feet long, offered the only approach to our rooms from the stairs. The situation was not good for defense and at the thought I had a mind even then to seek other quarters. It was too late for such a move, however, and I decided to make the best of the position. I placed the boy in the south bedroom which could be reached only through the parlor. With him I placed Wainwright and Fitzhugh, the two strongest men of the party. The north bedroom, opening on the hallway, the veranda roof and the parlor looked to be the weakest part of my position, but I thought it might be used to advantage as a post of observation. The windows were guarded with shutters of no great strength. We closed and secured those of the parlor and the inner bedroom as well as possible. Those of the north bedroom I left open. By leaving the room dark it would be easy for a sentinel to get warning of an assault by way of the veranda roof. I stationed Porter in the hall and Abrams in the dark bedroom, while Lockhart, Wilson, Brown, and I held the parlor and made ourselves comfortable until the time should come to relieve the men on guard. One by one the lights that could be seen here and there through the town disappeared. The sounds from the street and the other parts of the house came more infrequently and at last were smothered in silence, and only darkness and the storm remained. I thrust open the door to the bedroom to see that the boy and his guards were safe, and this done I turned down the light, threw myself on the floor before the door that protected my charge, and mused over the strange events that had crowded so swiftly upon me. Subtle warnings of danger floated over my senses between sleeping and waking, and each time I dropped into a dose I awoke with a start to see only the dimly-lighted forms of my men before me, and to hear only the sweep and whistle of the wind outside and the dash of water against the shutters. Thrice I had been aroused thus, when on the borderland between dreams and waking a voice reached my ear. Sht! What was that? I sprang up, wide awake, revolver in hand. It was Lockhart who spoke. We all strained our ears to listen. There was nothing to be heard, but the moan of the wind and the dash of water. What was it? I whispered. I don't know. I heard nothing. It was a koo-hoo, like the call of an owl, but— But you thought it was a man? Lockhart nodded. Brown and Wilson had not heard it. Was it inside or outside? It was out here, I thought, said Lockhart doubtfully, pointing to the street that ran by the side of the hotel. I opened the door to the dark bedroom in which Abrams kept a watch. It swung noiselessly to my cautious touch. For a moment I could see nothing of my henchmen, but the window was opened. Then in the obscurity I thought I discovered his body lying halfway across the window sill. I waited for him to finish his observations on the weather, but as he made no move I was struck with the fear that he had met foul play and touched him lightly. In a flash he had turned on me, and I felt the muzzle of a revolver pressing against my side. If you wouldn't mind turning that gun the other way, it would suit me just as well, I said. Oh, it's you, is it? said Abrams with a gulp. I thought Darby Meeker and his gang was at my back, sure. Did you hear anything? I asked. Yes, there was a call out here a bit ago, and there's half a dozen men or more out there now, right at the corner. Are you sure? Yes, I was listening to them when you gave me such a start. What were they saying? I couldn't hear a word. Give warning at the first move to get into the house. Blaze away with your gun if anybody tries to climb on the porch. Porter had heard nothing but was wide awake, watching by the light of the lamp that hung at the head of the stairway. And after a caution to vigilance I returned to my chair. For half an hour I listened closely. The men were open-eyed but silent. The storm kept up its mournful murmur, but no sound that I could attribute to man came to my straining ears. Suddenly there was a cry from the hall. Who's there? it was Porter's voice. An instant later there was a crash of glass, an explosion seemed to shake the house, and there was a rush of many feet. I leaped to the door and flung it open, Lockhart, Wilson, and Brown crowding close behind me. A body of men filled the hallway, and Porter was struggling in the hands of three ruffians. His revolver, whose shot we had heard, had been knocked from his hand and lay on the floor. The sudden appearance of four more weapons in the open doorway startled the enemy into pausing for a moment. I sprang forward and gave the nearest of Porter's assailants a blow that sent him staggering into the midst of his band, and with a wrench Porter tore himself loose from the other two and was with us again. What does this mean? I cried angrily to the invaders. What are you here for? There were perhaps a dozen of them altogether, and in the midst of the band I saw the evil face and snake eyes of Tom Terrell. At the sight of his repulsive features I could scarce refrain from sending a bullet in his direction. Darby Meeker growled an answer. You know what we're here for. You have broken into a respectable house like a band of robbers, I cried. What do you want? You know what we want, Mr. Wilton, was the surly answer. Give us the boy, and we won't touch you. And if not, there was silence for a few moments. What are you waiting for? growled a voice from beyond the turn of the hall. At the sound I thrilled to the inmost fiber. Was it not the growl of the wolf? Could I be mistaken in those tones? I listened eagerly for another word that might put it beyond doubt. Well, are you going to give him up? asked the hoarse voice of Meeker. There has got to be some better reason for it than your demand, I suggested. Well, we've got reasons enough here. Stand ready, boys. Look out! I said to my men, with a glance behind. As I turned, I saw without noting it that Wainwright and Fitzhugh had come out of the boy's room to take a hand in the impending trouble. Lockhart and Wilson slipped in front of me. Get back and look after the boy! whispered the former. We can hold him here. Move ahead there! shouted a fierce voice that again thrilled the ear and heart with the growl of the wolf. What are you afraid of? Stand fast, boys, I said to my men. Wainwright, keep close to the bedroom. Then I shouted defiance to the enemy. The first man that moves forward gets killed. There are eight revolvers here. Then I saw that Wainwright had come forward, despite my bidding, eager to take his share of the onslaught. And by some freak of the spirit of the perverse, the boy, who had shown himself so timid during the day, had now slipped out of his room and climbed upon a chair to see what the excitement was about, as though danger and death were the last things in the world with which he had to reckon. I caught a glimpse of his form out of the tail of my eye, as he mounted the chair in his night-dress. I turned with an exclamation to Wainwright, and was leaping to cover him from a possible bullet, when there was a roar of rage, and the voice of terror rang through the hall. Tricked again! he cried with a dreadful oath. It's the wrong boy! End of Chapter 23 Recording by Roger Maline Chapter 24 of Blindfolded This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Roger Maline Blindfolded by Earl Ashley Walcott Chapter 24 On the Road The Wrong Boy For a moment I could not understand nor believe, and when the meaning of the words came to me, I groped in mental darkness, unable to come in touch with the significant facts by which I was surrounded. The solid earth had fallen from under me, and I struggled vainly to get footing in my new position. But there was no time for speculation. Half in a days I heard a roar of curses, orders, a crash of glass, as the lamp was extinguished, and overall came the prolonged growl of a wolf voice, hoarse and shaken with anger. There was a vision of a wolf head rising above the outline of faces a few yards away, dark, distorted, fierce, with eyes that blazed threats. And in an instant I found myself in the center of a struggling, shouting, swearing mass of savage men, fighting with not but the instinct of blind rage. Shots were fired, but for the most part it was a hand to hand struggle. The clearest picture that comes to me out of the confused tangle is that of Wainwright handling his pistol like a bowie knife and trying to perform a surgical operation extensive enough to let a joke into Darby Meeker's skull. I doubt not that I was as crazy as the rest. The berserker rage was on me, and I struck right and left. But in my madness there was one idea strong in my mind. It was to reach the evil face and snake eyes of Tom Terrell and stamp the life out of him. With desperate rage I shouldered and fought till his white face with its venomous hatred was next to mine, till the fingers of my left hand gripped his throat and my right hand tried to beat out his brains with a six-shooter. Damn you! he gasped, striking fiercely at me. I've been waiting for you! I tightened my grip and spoke no word. He writhed and turned, striving to free himself. I had knocked his revolver from his hand, and he tried in vain to reach it. My grip was strong with the strength of madness, and the white face before me grew whiter, except where a smear of blood closed the left eye and trickled down over the cheek beneath. A trace of fear stole into the venomous anger of the one eye that was unobscured, as he strove without success to guard himself from my blows. But he gave a sudden thrust, and with a sinuous writhe he was free, while I was carried back by the rush of men with the vague impression that something was amiss with me. Then a great light flamed up before me in which the struggling, shouting mob, and the fear of the one eye, mob, the close hall and room, and the universe itself melted away, and I was alone. The next impression that came to me was that of a voice from an immeasurable distance. He's coming too, it said, and then beside it I heard a strange wailing cry. What is it? I asked, trying to sit up. My voice seemed to come from miles away and to belong to some other man. That's it, you're all right! said the voice encouragingly, and about the half of Niagara fell on my face. I sat up and beheld the room whirling about, the walls, the furniture, and the people dancing madly together to a strange wailing sound that carried me back to the dens of Chinatown. Then the mists before my eyes cleared away, and I found that I was on the floor of the inner bedroom, and Wainwright had emptied a water jug over me. The light of a small kerosene lamp gave a gloomy illumination to the place. Lockhart and Fitzhugh leaned against the door, and Wilson bent with Wainwright over me. The boy was sitting on the bed, crying shrilly over the melancholy situation. I tried to stagger to my feet. Wait a bit, said Wainwright. You'll get your head in a minute. I felt acutely conscious already that I had my head. It seemed a very large head that had suffered from an internal explosion. What is it? I asked, gathering my scattered wits. What has happened? We've been licked, said Wainwright regretfully. The rest of the boys got took, but we got in here. Fitz and me seen the nasty knock you got and dragged you back, and when we got you here the parlor was full of the hounds, and Porter and Abrams and Brown was missing. We found you was cut, and we've tried to fix you up. I looked at my bandaged arm and put one more count in the indictment against Terrell. He had tried to stab me over the heart at the time he had wrenched free, but he had merely slashed my arm. It was not a severe wound, but it gave me pain. Only a scratch, said Wainwright. I envied the philosophic calm with which he regarded it. It'll heal, I returned shortly. Where is the other gang? Have they gone? No. There's half a dozen of them out in the parlor, I reckon. You better tell him, said Fitzhugh, shifting an unpleasant task. Well, said Wainwright, we heard orders given to shoot the first man that comes out before morning, but before all to kill you if you sticks your nose outside before sun up. The amiable intentions of the victors set me to thinking. If it was important to keep me here till morning, it must be important to me to get out. There was no duty to keep me here, for I need fear no attack on the boy who was with us. I looked at my watch and found it was near one o'clock. Tie those blankets together, I ordered as soon as I was able to get my feet. The men obeyed me in silence, while Wainwright vainly tried to quiet the child. I was satisfied to have him cry, for the more noise he made, the less our movements would be heard. I had a plan that I thought might be carried out. While the others were at work, I cautiously raised the window and peered through the shutters. The rain was falling briskly and the wind still blew a gale. I thought I distinguished the dark figure of a man on guard within a few feet of the building, and my heart sank. How many are in the parlor, Wilson? I asked. Wilson applied his eye to the keyhole. Can't see anybody but that one-eyed fellow, Broderick! But there might be more. A flash of memory came to me, and I felt in my pocket for Mother Borton's mysterious scrawl. Give that to a one-eyed man, she had said. It was a forlorn hope, but worth a trying. Hand this to Broderick, I said, as soon as you can do it without anyone seeing you. Wilson did not like the task, but he took the envelope and silently brought the door ajar. His first investigations were evidently reassuring, for he soon had half his body outside. He's got it, he said, unreappearing. A little later there was a gentle tap at the door, and the head of the one-eyed man was thrust in. It's as much as my life's worth, he whispered. What do you want me to do? How many men are in the street below here? There's one, but more are in call. Well, I want him got out of the way. That's easy, said Broderick, with the diabolical wink of his one eye. I'll have him change places with me. Good. How many men are here? You don't need to know that. There's enough to bury you. Have Meeker and Terrell gone? Tom? He's in the next room here, and can count it a mercy of the saints if he gets out in a week. Meeker's gone with the old man. Well, I can't stay a-gabbin any longer, or I'll be caught, and then the devil himself couldn't save me. I shuddered at the thought of the old man, and the shadow of Dodridge Knapp weighed on my spirits. Are you ready for an excursion, Fitzhugh? I whispered. He nodded assent. Well, we'll be out of here in a minute or two. Take that overcoat. I've got one. Now tie that blanket to the bed-post. No, it won't be long enough. You'll have to hold it for us, boys. I heard the change of guards below, and giving directions to Wainwright, with funds to settle our account with the house. I blew out the lamp, quietly swung open the shudder, and leaned over the sill. Hold on to the blanket, boys. Follow me, Fitz, I whispered, and climbed out. The strain on my injured arm as I swung off gave me a burning pain, but I repressed the groan that came into my throat. I half expected a bullet to bring me to the ground in a hurry, for I was not over-trustful of the good faith of Mother Borton's friend. But I got to the ground in safety, and was relieved when Fitzhugh stood beside me and the improvised rope was drawn up. Where now? whispered Fitzhugh. To the stable. As we slipped along to the corner, a man stepped out before us. Don't shoot, he said. It's me, Broderick. Tell Mother Borton I wouldn't have done it for anybody but her. I'm obliged to you just the same, I said, and here's a bit of drink-money. Now, where are my men? Don't know. In the lock-up, I reckon. How is that? Why, you see, Meeker tells the fellows here he has a warrant for you, that you're the gang of burglars that's wanted for the parrot murder, and he had to show the constable and the landlord and some others the warrant too. How many were hurt? Six or seven. Two of your fellows looked pretty bad when they was carried out. We turned down a by-street, but as soon as the guard had disappeared we retraced our steps and hastened to the Thatcher stables. The rain was whipped into our faces as we bent against the wind and the wish and roar of the gale among the trees and the rattle of loose boards and tins as they were tossed and shaken behind the houses gave a melancholy accompaniment to our hasty march. Hest! said Fitzhugh in my ear. Is that someone following us? I drew him into a corner and peered back into the darkness. I can see no one. I thought I heard a man running. Wait a minute. If there is any one after us he must lose us right here. We listened in silence. Only the plash of water and the voice of the storm came to our ears. Well, if they are looking for us they have gone the other way. Come along, I said. We nearly missed the stable in the darkness and it was several minutes before we roused Thatcher to a state in which he could put together the two ideas that we wanted to get in and that it was his place to get up and let us in. Horses tonight? he gasped, throwing up his hands. Holy Moses! I couldn't think of letting the worst plug of the lot out in this storm. Well, I want your best. You'll have to do it, Dick, said Fitzhugh with a few words of explanation. He'll make it all right for you. Where are you going? said Thatcher. Oakland. He threw up his hands once more. Great, Scott! You can't do it. The horses can't travel fifty miles at night and in this weather you'd best wait for the morning train. The express will be through here before five. I hesitated a moment, but the chances of being stopped were too great. I must go, I said decidedly. I can't wait here. I have it, said Thatcher. By hard riding you can get to Niles in time to catch the freight as it goes up from San Jose. It will get you down in time for the first boat, if that's what you want. Good! How far is it? We call it eighteen miles. It's a little over that by the road. There's only one nasty bit. That's in the canyon. I think we shall need the pleasure of your company, I said. The stableman was moved by a conflict of feelings. He was much indisposed to a twenty-mile ride in the storm and darkness, yet he was plainly unwilling to trust his horses unless he went with them. I offered him a liberal price for the service. It's a bad job, but if you must, you must, he groaned, and he soon had three horses under the saddle. I eyed the beasts with some disfavor. They were evidently half-mustang, and I thought undersized for such a journey. But I was to learn, because I was a little too but I was to learn before the night was out the virtues of strength and endurance that lie in the blood of the Indian horse. HIST! What's that? said Fitzhugh, extinguishing the light. The voices of the storm and the uneasy champing of the horses were the only sounds that rewarded a minute's listening. We must chance it, said I, after looking cautiously into the darkness and finding no signs of a foe. And in a moment more we were galloping down the street, the hoof beats scarcely sounding in the softened earth of the roadway. Not a word was spoken after the start, as we turned through the side streets to avoid the approaches to the hotel. I looked and listened intently, expecting each bunch of deeper darkness in the streets to start into life with shouts of men and crack of revolvers in an effort to stay our flight. Thatcher led the way and Fitzhugh rode by my side. Look there! cried Fitzhugh in my ear. There's someone running to the hotel! I looked and thought I could see a form moving through the blackness. The hotel could just be distinguished two blocks away. It might well be a scout of the enemy hastening to give the alarm. Never mind, I said, we've got the start. Thatcher suddenly turned to the west, and in another minute we were on the open highway, with the steady beat of the horse's hoof splashing a wild rhythm on the muddy road. The wind, which had been behind us, now whipped the rain into our faces from the left, half blinding us as the gusts sent the spray into our eyes, then tugged fiercely at coats and hats as if nothing could be so pleasing to the powers of the air as to send our raiment in a witch's flight through the clouds. With the town once behind us I felt my spirits rise with every stroke of the horse's hoofs beneath me. The rain and the wind were friends rather than foes. Yet my arm pained me sharply, and I was forced to carry the rains in the whip-hand. Here the road was broader, and we rode three abreast, silent, watchful, each busy with his own thoughts, and all alert for the signs of chase behind. Thrice my heart beat fast with the sound in my ears of galloping pursuers. Thrice I laughed to think that the patter of falling drops on the roadway should deceive my sense of sound. Here the track narrowed, and Thatcher shot ahead, flinging mud and water from his horse's heels fair upon us. There it broadened once more, and our willing beasts pressed forward and galloped beside the stablemen's till the hoofs beat in unison. There, said Thatcher, suddenly pulling his horse up to a walk, where five miles out, and they've got a big piece to make up if they're on our track, we'll breathe the horse's a bit. The beasts were panting a little, but chafed at the bits as we walked them and tossed their heads uneasily to the pelting of the storm. Hark! I cried. Did you hear that? I was almost certain that the sound of a faint hello came from behind us. I was not alone in the thought. The Dern fools, said Fitzhugh. They want a long chase, I guess, to go through the country yelling like a pack of wild engines. I reckoned it was an owl, said Thatcher, but we might as well be moving. We needn't take no chances while we've got a good set of heels under us. Get up, boys! The willing brutes shot forward into the darkness at the word and tossed the raindrops from their ears with many an angry nod. Of the latter part of the journey I have but a confused remembrance. I had counted myself a good rider in former days, but I had not mounted a horse for years. I had slept but little in forty-eight hours, and worst of all, my arm pained me more and more. With the fatigue and the jar of the steady gallop it seemed to swell until it was the body and I the poor appendage to it. My head ached from the blow it had got, and in a stupor of dull pain I covered the weary miles. But for the comfortable Mexican saddle I fear I should have sunk under the fatigue and distress of the journey and left friends and enemies to find their way out of the maze as best they might. I have a dim recollection of splashing over miles of level road, drenched with water, and buffeted by gusts of wind that faced us more and more, with the monotonous beat of hoofs ever in my ears and the monotonous stride of the horse beneath me ever racking my tired muscles. Then we slackened pace in a road that wound in sharp descent through a gap in the hills, with the rush and roar of a torrent beneath and beside us, the wind sweeping with wild blasts through the trees that lined the way and covered the hillside and seeming to change the direction of its attack at every moment. We'll make it, I reckon, said Thatcher at last. It's only two miles farther and the train hasn't gone up yet. The horses by this time were well blown. The road was heavy and we had pressed them hard, yet they struggled with spirit as they panted and answered to the whip when we called on them for the last stretch as we once more found a level road. There was no sign of life about the station as we drew our panting steaming horses to a halt before it and no train was in sight. The rain dripping heavily from the eaves was the only sound that came from it and a dull glow from an engine that lay alone on a siding was the only light that was to be seen. What's the time? asked Thatcher. We must have made a quick trip. Twenty minutes past three, said I, striking a match under my coat to see my watch face. Immortal snakes, cried Thatcher. I'm an idiot. This is Sunday night. I failed to see the connection of these startling discoveries, but I had spirit enough to argue the case. It's Monday morning now. Well, it's the same thing. The freight doesn't run tonight. I awoke to some interest at this announcement. Why, it's got to run, or we must take to Saddle again for the rest of the way. These horses can't go five miles more at that gate, let alone twenty-five, protested Thatcher. Well then, we must get other horses here. Come, said Fitzhugh, what's the use of that when there's an engine on the siding doing nothing? Just the idea. Find the man in charge. But there did not appear to be any man in charge. The engineer and fireman were gone, and the watchman had been driven to cover by the foul weather. We looked the iron horse over enviously. Why, this is the engine that came up with the special this noon, said Fitzhugh. I remember the number. Good! We are ahead of the enemy then. They haven't had a chance to get the wire, and we beat them on the road. We must find the engineer and get it ourselves. I've got an idea, said Fitzhugh. It's this. Why not take the machine without asking? I was a fireman once, and I can run it pretty well. I thought a moment on the risk, but the need was greater. Just the thing. Take the money for the horses to your friends there. I'll open the switch. In a few minutes Fitzhugh was back. I told him, he chuckled. He says it's a jail offence, but it's the only thing we can do. It may be a case of life and death, I said. Pull out! There's mighty little steam here, hardly enough to move her, said Fitzhugh from the cab, stirring the fire. But as he put his hands to the lever, she did move easily on the main track and rested while I reset the switch. Then I climbed back into the cab and sank down before the warm blaze in a stupor of faintness as the engine glided smoothly and swiftly down the track. End of Chapter 24 Recording by Roger Moline Chapter 25 Of Blindfolded This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Roger Moline Blindfolded by Earl Ashley Walcott Chapter 25 A Flutter in the Market The gray pawl of the storm hung over San Francisco. The dim light of the morning scarcely penetrated into the hallways as we climbed the stairs that led to our lodgings, leaving behind us the trail of dripping garments. I heaved a sigh of relief as Trent opened the door, and we once more faced the pleasing prospect of warmth, dry clothing, and friends. We had made the run from Niles without incident, and had left the engine on a siding at Brooklyn without being observed. If the railroad company still had curiosity, after all these years, to know how that engine got from Niles to Brooklyn, I trust that the words I have just written may be taken as an explanation and apology. Where's Barkhouse? I asked, becoming comfortable once more with dry clothes, a warm room, and a fresh bandage on my arm. He hasn't shown up, sir, said Trent. Owens and Larson went out to look for him toward evening yesterday, but there wasn't a sign of him. Try again today. You may pick up news at Bortons or some of the waterfront saloons. Oh, there was a letter for you, said Trent. I near forgot. I snatched the envelope, for the address was in the hand of the unknown. The sheet within bore the words, Where is the boy? Have you removed him? Send the key to Richmond. Let me know when you return, for I must see you as soon as it is safe. I read the note three or four times, and each time I was more bewildered than before. I had left the boy in Livermore, but certainly he was not the one she meant. He was the wrong boy, and my employer must be well aware that I had taken him at her orders. Or could that expedition be a jest of the enemy to divert my attention? I dismissed this theory as soon as it suggested itself. But where was the right boy? I had for a moment a sinking feeling of terror in the thought that the enemy had captured him. Mother Borton's warning that they had found his place of hiding returned to confirm this thought. But in an instant I remembered that the enemy had followed me in force to Livermore in chase of the wrong boy, and had attacked me in pure chagrin at the trick that had been played on them. That showed me beyond question that they had not obtained possession of the right boy. And the key that I was to send to Richmond, what was that? The closing portion of the note set my heart beating fast. At last I was to have the opportunity to meet my mysterious employer face to face. But what explanation was I to make? What reception would I meet when she learned that Henry Wilton had given up his life in her service, and that I, who had taken his place, could tell nothing of the things she wished to know? I wrote a brief note to Richmond stating that I had no key and closed the unknown's note with the remark that I had returned and gave it to Owens to deliver. I was in some anxiety lest he might not know where Richmond was to be found. But he took the note without question, and I lay down with orders that I was to be called in time to reach the opening session of the stock market, and in a moment was fast to sleep. The stock exchange was a boiling and bubbling mass of excited men as I reached it. Pine Street, wet and sloppy, was lined with a mob of umbrellas that sheltered anxious speculators of small degree, and the great building was thronged with the larger dealers, with millionaires and brokers, with men who were on their way to fortune, and those who had been millionaires and now were desperately struggling against the odds of fate as they saw their wealth swept away in the gambler's whirlpool. I shouldered my way through the crowd into the buzzing boardroom as the session opened. Excitement thrilled the air, but the opening was listless. All knew that the struggle over Omega was to be settled that day, and that Doddridge Knapp or George Decker was to find ruin at the end of the call, and all were eager to hasten the decisive moment. Walbridge came panting before me, his round bald head bobbing with excitement. Ready for the fray, hey? Oh, it's worth money to see this. Talk of your theaters now, hey? Got any orders? Not yet, I returned, hardly sharing the little man's enjoyment of the scene. The size of the stakes made me tremble. I could see nothing of Doddridge Knapp and the uneasy feeling that he was at Livermore came over me. What was my duty in case he did not appear? Had he left his fortune at the mercy of the market to follow his lawless schemes? Had he been caught in his own trap, and was he now to be ruined as the result of his own acts? For a moment I felt a vengeful hope that he might have come to grief. But when I remembered that it was Luella who must suffer with him, I determined to make an effort to save the deal, even without authority, if the money or credit for buying the remaining shares was to be had. I might have spared my worry. The call had not proceeded far when the massive form of Doddridge Knapp appeared at the railing. The strong wolf marks of the face were stronger than ever as he watched the scene on the floor. I looked in vain for a trace upon him of last night's work. If he had been at Livermore, he showed no sign of the passions or anxieties that had filled the dark hours. He nodded carelessly for me to come to him as he caught my eye. Have you the stock? All safe. And the proxies? Just as you ordered. The king of the street looked at me sharply. I told you to keep sober till this deal was over, he growled. You are obeyed, I said. I have not touched a drop. Well, you look as though you had taken a romp with the devil, he said. I have, I returned with a meaning to it. He said, I dare not look. His eyes fell before my steady gaze, and he turned them on the noisy throng before us. Any orders, I asked at last. Be where I can call you the minute I want you, he replied. Now, my boy, he continued after a minute, you are going to see what hasn't been seen in the boards for years, and I reckon you'll never see it again. "'What is it?' I asked politely. I was prepared for almost any kind of fireworks in that arena.' Dodridge Knapp made no reply, but raised his hand as if to command silence, and a moment later the call of Omega was heard, and for a marvel a strange stillness did fall on the throng. At the word of call I saw Dodridge Knapp step down to the floor of the pit, calm, self-possessed, his shoulders squared, and his look as proud and forceful as that of a monarch who ruled by the might of his sword, while a grim smile played about his stern mouth. The silence of the moment that followed was almost painful. In that place it seemed the most unnatural of prodigies. Brokers, speculators, and spectators were as surprised as I, and a long-drawn, ah! followed by a buzzing as of a great swarm of bees greeted his appearance. The stillness and the buzzing seemed to take an hour, but it could not have been as much as a minute when the voice of Dodridge Knapp rang like a trumpet through the boardroom. 500 for Omega! This was a wild jump from the 325 that was marked against the stock at the close on Saturday, but I supposed the king of the street knew what he was about. At the bid of Dodridge Knapp a few cries rose here and there, and he was at once the center of a group of gesticulating brokers. Then I saw decker, pale, eager, alert, standing by the rail across the room, signaling orders to men who howled bids and plunged wildly into the crowd that surrounded his rival. The bids and offers came back and forth with shouts and barks, yet they made but a murmur compared to the whirlwind of sound that had arisen from the pit at the former struggles I had witnessed. There seemed but few blocks of the stock on the market, yet the air was electric with the tense strain of thousands of mines eager to catch the faintest indication of the final result, and I found it more exciting than the wildest days of clamor and struggle. This is great! chuckled Walbridge, taking posts before me. There hasn't been anything like it since decker captured Chalor in the election of 73. You don't remember that, I guess. I wasn't in the market, then, I admitted. Lord, just to hear that! cried the stout little man, mopping his glistening head frantically and quivering with nervous excitement. Dodridge Knapp bids fifteen hundred for the stock and only gets five shares. Oh, why ain't I a chance to get into this? I heard a confused roar above which rose the fierce tones of Dodridge Knapp. How many shares has he got today? I asked. Not forty yet. And the others? There has been about two thousand sold. I gripped the rail in nervous tension. The battle seemed to be going against the king of the street. Oh! gasped Walbridge, trembling with excitement. Did you hear that? There! It's seventeen hundred. Now it's seventeen fifty. Who? I echoed the exclamation. Oh, why haven't I got ten thousand shares? he groaned. Who is getting them? Knapp got the last lot. Oh, oh, look there! Did you ever see the like of that? I looked. Decker, hatless, with hair disheveled, had leaped the rail and was hurrying into the throng that surrounded Dodridge Knapp. There was never two of them on the floor before, cried Walbridge. At Decker's appearance the brokers opened a lane to him, the cries fell, and there was an instant of silence as the kings of the market thus came face to face. I shall never forget the sight. Dodridge Knapp, massive, calm, forceful, surveyed his opponent with unruffled composure. He was dressed in a light gray-brown suit that made him seem larger than ever. Decker was nervous, disheveled, his dress of black setting off the pallor of his face till it seemed as white as his shirt bosom as he fronted the king of the street. The foes faced each other, watchful as two wrestlers looking to seize an opening, and the boardroom held its breath. Then the crowd of brokers closed in again and the clamor rose once more. I could not make out the progress of the contest, but the trained ear of Walbridge interpreted the explosions of inarticulate sound. Poof! Listen to that! Two thousand, twenty one hundred, twenty one fifty! Great snakes! See her jump! he cried. Decker's getting it. My heart sank. Dodridge Knapp must have smothered his brain once more in the black smoke, and was now paying the price of indulgence. And his plans of wealth were a sacrifice to the wild and criminal scheme into which he had entered in this contest against the unknown. I saw the wreck of fortune and gulf, Mrs. Knapp and Luella, and groaned in spirit. Then a flash of hope shot through me. Luella Knapp, the heiress to millions, was beyond my dreams, but Luella Knapp, the daughter of a ruined speculator, would not be too high a prize for a poor man to set his eyes upon. The clang of the gong recalled me from the reverie that had shut out the details of the scene before me. There did you hear that? groaned Walbridge. Omega closes at two thousand six hundred, and Decker takes every trick. Oh, why didn't you have me on the floor out there? By the great hornspoon I'd have had every share of that stock, and wouldn't have paid more than half as much for it, neither. I sighed and turned, sick at heart, to meet the king of the street as he shouldered his way from the floor. There was not a trace of his misfortune to be read in his face, but Decker, the victor, moved away like a man oppressed, pale, staggering, half-fainting, as though the nervous strain had brought him to the edge of collapse. Dodridge Knapp made his way to the doors and signed me to follow him, but spoke no word until we stood beside the columns that guard the entrance. The rain fell in a drizzle, but anxious crowds lined the streets, dodged into doorways for shelter, or boldly moved across the walks on the cobbled roadway under the protection of bobbing umbrellas. The news of the unprecedented jump in Omega, in which the price had doubled thrice in a few minutes, had flown from mouth to mouth, and excitement was at fever-heat. That was warm work, said Dodridge Knapp, after a moment's halt. I was very sorry to have it turn out so, I said. A grim smile passed over his face. I wasn't, he growled, good-humoredly. I thought it was rather neatly done. I looked at him in surprise. Oh, I forgot that I hadn't seen you, he continued. And, like enough, I shouldn't have told you if I had. The truth is, I found a block of four thousand shares on Saturday night and made a combination with them. Then the mine is yours. The directors will be. But you were buying shares this morning. A mere optical illusion, Wilton. I was, in fact, a seller, for I had shares to spare. It was a very good imitation. I don't wonder you were taken in, my boy. Decker was fooled to the tune of about a million dollars this morning. I thought it was rather neat for a cleanup. I thought so, too, and the King of the Street smiled at my exclamations over his cleverness. But my congratulations were cut short as a small dark man pressed his way to the corner where we stood and whispered in Doddridge Knap's ear. Was he sure? asked the King of the Street. Those were his exact words. When was this? Not five minutes ago. Run to Caswell's. Tell him to wait for me. The messenger darted off and we followed briskly. Caswell, I found, was an attorney and we were led at once to the inner office. Come in with me, said my employer. I expect I shall need you and it will save explanations. The lawyer was a tall, thin man with chalky, expressionless features, but his eyes gave life to his face with their keen, almost brilliant vision. Decker's playing the Joker, said the King of the Street. I've beaten him in the market, but he's going to make a last play with the directors. There is a meeting called for twelve-thirty. They are going to give him a two-year contract for milling, and they talk of declaring twenty thousand shares of my stock invalid. How many directors have you got? Two. Barber and myself. Decker thinks he has Barber. Then you want an injunction? Yes. The lawyer looked at his watch. The meeting is at twelve-thirty. You'll have to hold them for half an hour, maybe an hour. Make it half an hour, growled Dodger-Jnap. Just remember that time is worth a thousand dollars a second till that injunction is served. He went out without another word, and there was a commotion of clerks as we left. How's your nerve, Wilton? inquired the King of the Street calmly. Are you ready for some hot work? Quite ready. Have you a revolver about you? Yes. Very good. I don't want you to kill anyone, but it may come in handy as an evidence of your good intentions. He led the way to California Street below Sandsome, where we climbed a flight of stairs, and went down a hall to a glass door that bore the gilt and painted letters. Omega Mining Company, J.D. Storey, President. There's five minutes to spare, said my employer. He may be alone. A stout, florid man with red side whiskers and a general air of good living sat by an overshadowing desk in the handsome office and looked sourly at us as we entered. He was not alone, for a young man could be seen in a side room that was lettered Secretary's Office. Ah, Mr. Knapp, he said, bowing deferentially to the millionaire and rubbing his fat red hands. Can I do anything for you today? I reckon so, Storey. Let me introduce you to Mr. Wilton, one of our coming directors. I had an inward start at this information, and Mr. Storey regarded me unfavorably. We professed ourselves charmed to see each other. I suppose it was an oversight that you didn't send me a notice of the director's meeting, said Doddridge Knapp. Mr. Storey turned very red and the king of the street said in an undertone, just lock that door, Wilton. It must have been sent by mail, stammered Storey. Hi there, young man, what are you doing? He exclaimed, jumping to his feet as I turned the key in the lock. Open that door again. No you don't, Storey, came the fierce growl from the throat of the wolf. Your game is up. The devil it is, cried Storey, making a dash past Doddridge Knapp and coming with a rush straight for me. Stop him! roared my employer. I sprang forward and grappled Mr. Storey, but I found him rather a large contract, for I had to favor my left arm. Then he suddenly turned limp and rolled to the floor, his head thumping noisily on a corner of the desk. Doddridge Knapp coolly laid a hard rubber ruler down on the desk, and I recognized the source of Mr. Storey's discomforture. I reckon he's safe for a bit, he growled. Hello, what's this? I noted a very pale young man in the doorway of the secretary's office, apparently doubtful whether he should attempt to raise an alarm or hide. You go back in your room and mind your own business, Doddson, said the king of the street. Go! he growled fiercely as the young man still hesitated. You know I can make or break you. The young man disappeared, and I closed and locked the door on him. There they come, said I, as Step sounded in the hall. Stand by the door and keep them out, whispered my employer. I'll see that Storey doesn't get up. Keep still now. Every minute we gain is worth ten thousand dollars. I took station by the door as the knob was tried. More steps were heard, and the knob was tried again. Then the door was shaken and picturesque comments were made on the delitory president. Doddridge Knapp looked grim but serene as he sat on the desk with his foot in the prostrate's story. I breathed softly and listened to the rising complaints from without. There were thumps and kicks on the door, and at last a voice roared, What are you waiting for? Break it in! A crash followed, and the ground-glass upper section of the door fell in fragments. I beg your pardon, gentlemen, I said, as a man put his hand through the opening. This revolver is loaded, and the first man to come through there will get a little cold lead in him. There was a pause and then a storm of oaths. Get in there! cried Decker's voice from the rear. What are you afraid of? He's got a gun! Well get in, three or four of you at once! He can't shoot you all! This spirited advice did not seem to find favor with the front-rank men, and the enemy retired for consultation. At last a messenger came forward. What do you want? he asked. I want you to keep out! Who is he? asked Decker's voice. There's another one there, cried another voice. Why, it's Dodridge Knapp! Decker made use of some language not intended for publication, and there was whispering for a few minutes, followed by silence. I looked at Dodridge Knapp, sitting grim and unmoved, counting the minutes till the injunction should come. Suddenly a man bounded through the broken upper section of the door, tossed by his companions, and I found myself in a grapple before I could raise my revolver. We went down on the floor together, and I had a confused notion that the door swung open and four or five others rushed into the room. I squirmed free from my opponent, and sprang to my feet in time to see the whole pack around Dodridge Knapp. The king of the street sat calm and forceful with the revolver in his hand, and all had halted, fearing to go farther. Don't come too close, gentlemen! growled the wolf. Then I saw one of the men raise a six-shooter to aim at the defiant figure that faced them. I gave a spring, and with one blow laid the man on the floor. There was a flash of fire as he fell, and a deafening noise was in my ears. Then all about me were striking at me. I scarcely felt the blows as I warded them off and returned them, for I was half-mad with the desperate sense of conflict against odds. But at last I felt myself seized in an iron grip, and in a moment was seated beside Dodridge Knapp on the desk. "'The time is up,' he said. "'There's the sheriff and casual with the writ.' "'I congratulate you,' I answered, my head still swimming, noting that the enemy had drawn back at the coming of reinforcements. "'Good heavens, man! you're hurt,' he cried, pointing to my left sleeve where a blood-stain was spreading. The wound I had received in the night-conflict at Livermore had reopened in the struggle. "'It's nothing,' said I. Just a scratch.' "'Here, get a doctor,' cried the king of the street. "'Gentlemen, the director's meeting is postponed by order of court.' End of CHAPTER XXV You are a very imprudent person,' said Luella, smiling, yet with the most charming trace of anxiety under the smile. "'What have I been doing now?' I asked. "'That is what you ought to tell me. Papa told us a little about your saving his life and his plans this morning, but he was so very short about it. Let me know the whole story from your own mouth. Was this the arm that was hurt?' I started to give a brief description of my morning's adventure, but there was something in my listener's face that called forth detail after detail, and her eyes kindled, as I told the tale of the battle that won Omega in the stock-board, and the fight that rescued the fruits of victory in the office of the company. "'There is something fine in it after all,' she said when I was through. "'There is something left of the spirit of the old adventurers and the knights.' "'Oh, I wish I were a man.' "'No, I don't either. I'd rather be the daughter of a man, a real man, and I know I am that.' I thought of the dodgeridge-nap that she did not know, and a pang of pity and sorrow wrenched my heart. She saw the look and misinterpreted it. "'You do not think, do you?' she said softly. "'That I don't appreciate your part in it?' "'Indeed, I do.' I took her hand, and she let it lie a moment before she drew it away. "'I think I am more than repaid,' I said. "'Oh, yes,' said she, changing her tone to one of complete indifference. "'Papa said he had made you a director.' "'Yes,' I said, taking my cue from her manner. "'I have the happiness to share the honor with three other dummies. Her father makes the fifth.' "'How absurd!' laughed Luella. "'Do you want to provoke me?' "'Oh, of course. I mean that your father does the thinking, and you punch the head he points out to you, I suppose,' said Luella sarcastically. "'Exactly,' I said. "'And don't mind me, Henry,' interrupted the voice of Mrs. Knapp. "'But I must,' said I, giving her greeting. "'What service do you require?' "'Tell me what you have been doing.' "'I have just been telling Miss Luella.' "'And what, may I ask?' "'I was explaining this morning's troubles.' "'Oh, I heard a little of them from Mr. Knapp. Have you had any more of your adventures at Bortons and other dreadful places?' I glanced at Luella. She was leaning forward, her chin resting on her hand, and her eyes were fixed on me with close attention. "'I should like to hear of them, too,' she said. I considered a moment, and then, as I could see no reason for keeping silent, I gave a somewhat abridged account of my Livermore trip, omitting reference to the strange vagaries of the Dodridge Knapp who traveled by night. I had reason to be flattered by the attention of my audience. Both women leaned forward with wide-open eyes and followed every word with eager interest. "'That was a dreadful danger you escaped,' said Mrs. Knapp, with a shudder. I am thankful indeed to see you with us with no greater hurt.' Luella said nothing, but the look she gave me set my heart dancing in a way that all Mrs. Knapp's praise could not. "'I do hope this dreadful business will end soon,' said Mrs. Knapp. "'Do you think this might be the last of it?' "'No,' said I, remembering the note I had received from the unknown on my return. "'There is much more to be done.' "'I hope you are ready for it,' said Mrs. Knapp, with a troubled look upon her face. "'As ready as I ever shall be, I suppose,' I replied. "'If the guardian angel who has pulled me through this far will hold on to his job, I'll do my part.' Mrs. Knapp raised a melancholy smile, but it disappeared at once, and she seemed to muse in silence, with no very pleasant thought in her mind. Twice or thrice I thought she wished to speak to me, but, if so, she changed her mind. I ventured a few observations that were intended to be jacose, but she answered in the monosyllables of preoccupation, and I turned to Luella. She gave back flashes of brightness, but I saw on her face the shadow of her mother's melancholy, and I rose at an early hour to take my leave. "'I wonder at you,' said Luella, softly, as we stood alone for a moment. "'You have little cause. "'What you have done is much. You have conquered difficulties.' I looked in her calm eyes, and my soul came to the surface. "'I wish you might be proud of me,' I said. "'I am proud of such a friend, except,' she hesitated. "'Always and except,' I said, half-mitterly. "'But you have promised to tell me.' "'Someday, as soon as I may.' "'Under her magnetic influence I should have told her then, had she urged me. And not until I was once more outside the house did I recall how impossible it was that I could ever tell her. "'What shall I do? "'What shall I do?' was the refrain that ran through my brain insistently, as the battle between love and duty rose and swelled. And I was sorely tempted to tell the unknown to look elsewhere for assistance, and to bury the memory of my dead friend and the feud with Dodridge Knapp in a common grave. "'Here's someone to see you, sir,' said Owens, as I reached the walk, and joined the guards I had left to wait for me. The rain had ceased, but the wind, which had fallen during the day, was freshening once more from the south. "'Yes, sir, you're wanted at Mother Borton's in a hurry,' said another voice, and a man stepped forward. "'There's the devil to pay. I recognized the one-eyed man who had done me the service that enabled me to escape from Livermore. "'Ah, Bradrick, what's the matter?' "'I didn't get no orders, sir, so I don't know. But there was the devil's own shindy in the height of progression when I left, and Mother Borton says I was to come hot foot for you and tell you to come with your men if you valued your soul. Is she in danger?' I reckon the thought was heavy on her mind, for her face was white with the terror of it. We hastened forward, but at the next corner a passing hack stood ready for passengers, and we rolled down the street, the horse's hoofs outstripped by my anxiety and apprehensions. One of the men was sent to bring out such of my force as had returned, and I, with the two others, hurried on to Borton's. There was none of the sounds of riot I had expected to hear as we drew up before it. The lantern blinked outside with its invitation to manifold cheer within. Lights streamed through the window, and the half-open door, and quiet and order reigned. As I stepped to the walk I found the explanation of the change in the person of a policeman who stood at the door. "'Holy Saint Peter, the cops is on!' whispered Bradrick. I failed to share his trepidation in the presence of the representative of law and order, and stepped up to the policeman. "'Has there been trouble here, officer?' I asked. "'Oh, is it you, sir?' said Corson's hearty voice. "'I was wondering about you. Well, there has been a bit of a row here, and there is a power of broken heads to be mended. "'There is one man cut to pieces, and good riddance, for its black dick. "'I'm thinking it's the morgue they'll be taking him to, though it was for the receiving hospital they started with him. "'It was a dandy row, and it was seventeen arrests we made. "'Where is Mother Borton?' "'The old she-devil's done for, this time, I'm a thinking. "'Wist, I forgot she was a friend of yours, sir.' "'Where is she, at the receiving hospital? "'What does the matter with her?' "'Easy, easy, sir. It may be nothing. "'She's upstairs. A bit of a cut,' they say. "'Here, Shaughnessy, look out for this door. "'I'll take you up, sir.' "'We mounted the creaking stairs in the light of the smokey lamp that stood on the bracket, and Corson opened a door for me. "'A flickering candle played fantastic tricks with the furniture, sent shadows dancing over the dingy walls, and gave a weird touch to the two figures that bent over the bed in the corner. The figures straightened up at our entrance, and I knew them for the doctor and his assistant. "'A friend of the lady, sir,' whispered Corson. The doctor looked at me in some surprise, but merely bowed. "'Is she badly hurt?' I asked. "'I've seen worse,' he answered in a low voice, but—' and he completed the sentence by shrugging his shoulders, as though he had small hopes for his patients. Mother Borton turned her head on the pillow, and her gaunt face lighted up at the sight of me. Her eyes shone with a strange light of their own, like the eyes of a nightbird, and there was a fierce eagerness in her look. "'Ey, dearie, I knew you would come,' she cried. The doctor pushed his way to the bedside. "'I must insist that the patient be quiet,' he said with authority. "'Be quiet!' cried Mother Borton. "'Is it for the likes of you that I'd be quiet? You whitewashed tombstone razor, you body snatcher. Do you think you're the man to tell me to hold my tongue when I want to talk to a gentleman?' "'Hush,' I said soothingly. "'He means right by you. You must lie quiet, or I'll not be responsible for the consequences,' said the doctor, firmly. At these well-meant words Mother Borton raised herself on her elbow, and directed a stream of profanity in the direction of the doctor, that sent chills chasing each other down my spine, and seemed for a minute to dim the candle that gave its flickering gloom to the room. "'I'll talk as I please,' cried Mother Borton. "'It's my last wish, and I'll have it. You tell me I'll live an hour or two longer if I'm quiet, but I'll die as I've lived, a doing as I please, and have my say as long as I've got breath to talk. Go out now, all of you, but this man. Go!' Mother Borton had raised herself upon one elbow. Her face, flushed and framed in her gray and tangled hair, was working with anger, and her eyes were almost lured as she sent fierce glances at one after another of the men about her. She pointed a skinny finger at the door, and each man, as she cast her look upon him, went out without a word. "'Shut the door, honey,' she said quietly, lying down once more with a satisfied smile. "'That's it. Now, me and you can talk cozy-like. You'd better not talk. Perhaps you'll feel more like it tomorrow.' "'There won't be any tomorrow for me,' growled Mother Borton. I've seen enough of him carved to know when I've got the dose myself.' Cursed that knife!' And she groaned at a twinge of pain. "'Who did it?' "'Black Dick,' cursed his soul. "'And he's roasting in hell for it this minute,' cried Mother Borton savagely. "'Hush,' I said. You mustn't excite yourself. Can't I get you a minister or a priest?' Mother Borton spat out another string of oaths. "'Priest or minister? Not for me. No one has passed my door in all the time I've lived, and he'll not do it tonight. What could he tell me that I don't know already? I've been on the road to hell for fifty years, and do you think the devil will let go his grip for a man that don't know me?' "'No, dearie. Your face is better for me than Priest or Minister, and I want you to close my eyes and see that I'm buried decent. Maybe you'll remember Mother Borton for something more than a vile old woman when she's gone.' "'That I shall,' I exclaimed, touched by her tone, and taking the hand that she reached out to mine. "'I'll do anything you want, but don't talk of dying. There's many a year left in you yet. There's maybe an hour left in me. But we must hurry. Tell me about your trouble. At Livermore, was it?' I gave her a brief account of the expedition and its outcome. Mother Borton listened eagerly, giving an occasional grunt of approval. "'Well, honey, I was some good to you after all,' was her comment. "'Indeed, yes.' "'And you had a closer shave for your life than you think,' she continued. "'Tom Terrell swore he'd kill you, and it's one of the miracles, sure, that he didn't.' "'Well, Mother Borton, Tom Terrell's laid up in Livermore with a broken head, and I'm safe here with you, ready to serve you in any way that a man may.' "'Safe? Safe!' mused Mother Borton, an absent look coming over her skinny features, as though her mind wandered. Then she turned to me impressively. "'You'll never be safe till you change your work and your name. You've shut your ears to my words while I'm alive, but maybe you'll think of them when I'm in my coffin. I tell you now, my boy, there's murder and death before you. Do you hear? Murder and death!' She sank back on her pillow and gazed at me with a wearied light in her eyes and a simple look on her face. "'I think I understand,' I said gently. I have faced them, and I ought to know them. "'Then you'll—you'll quit your job? You'll be yourself?' "'I cannot. I must go on.' "'And why?' "'My friend, his work, his murderer.' "'Have you got the man who murdered Henry Wilton?' "'No.' "'Have you got a man who will give a word against—against—you know who?' "'I have not a scrap of evidence against anyone, but the testimony of my own eyes,' I was compelled to confess. "'And you can't use it. You dare not use it. Now I'll tell you, dearie, I know the man as killed Henry Wilton.' "'Who was it?' I cried, startled into eagerness. "'It was Black Dick, the cursed scoundrel that's done for me.' "'Oh!' she groaned in pain. "'Maybe Black Dick struck the blow, but I know the man that stood behind him, and paid him, and protected him, and I'll see him on the gallows before I die.' "'Hush!' cried Mother Borton, trembling. "'If he should hear you, your throat will be cut yet, dearie, and I'm to blame. "'Drop it, dearie. Drop it. The boy is nothing to you. Leave him go. Take your own name and get away. This is no place for you. When I'm gone there will be no one to warn you. You'll be killed. You'll be killed.' Then she moaned, but whether from pain of body or mind I could not guess. "'Never you fear. I'll take care of myself,' I said cheerily. She looked at me mournfully. "'I am killed for ye, dearie.' I started, shocked at this news. "'There!' she continued slowly. "'I didn't mean to let you know, but they thought I had told you.' "'Then I have two reasons, instead of one for holding to my task,' I said solemnly. "'I have two friends to avenge.' "'You'll make the third yourself,' groaned Mother Borton, unless they put a knife into Barkhouse first, and then you'll be the fourth billike.' "'Barkhouse? Do you know where he is?' "'He's in the den on Davis Street, you know.' "'I was near forgetting to tell you. Send your men to get him to-night, for he's hurt and like to die. They may have to fight.' "'No, don't leave me now.' "'I wasn't going to leave you.' Mother Borton put her hand to her throat, as though she choked, and was silent for a moment. Then she continued, "'I'll be to blame if I don't tell you. I must tell you.' "'Are you listening?' Her voice came thick and strange, and her eyes wandered anxiously about, searching the heavy shadows with the look of growing fear. The candle burned down till it guttered and flickered in its pool of melted tallow, and the shadows it threw upon wall and ceiling seemed instinct with an impish life of their own, as though they were dark spirits from the pit come to mock the final hours of the life that was ebbing away before me. "'I am listening,' I replied. "'You must know. You must know. I must tell you. The boy—the woman is—' "'On a sudden, Mother Borton sat bolt upright in bed, and a shriek so long, so shrill, so frighted with terror, came from her lips, that I shrank from her and trembled, faint with the horror of the place. "'They come! There! They come!' she cried, and throwing up her arms, she fell back on the bed. The candle, shot up into flame, sputtered an instant, and was gone. And I was alone with the darkness and the dead." End of Chapter 26 Recording by Roger Maline Chapter 27 of Blindfolded This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Roger Maline Blindfolded by Earl Ashley Walcott Chapter 27 A Link in the Chain I sprang to my feet. The darkness was instinct with nameless terrors. The air was filled with nameless shapes. A spiritual horror surrounded me, and I felt that I must reach the light or cry out. But before I had covered the distance to the door, it was flung open, and Corson stood in the threshold. And at the sight of him my courage returned, and my shaken nerves grew firm. At the darkness he wavered and cried, "'What's the matter here?' She is dead. Rest her soul. It's a fearsome dark hole to be in, sir.' I shuddered as I stood beside him, and brought the lamp from the bracket in the hall. Mother Borton lay back, staring affrightedly at the mystic beings who had come for her, but settled into peace as I closed her eyes and composed her limbs. "'She was a rare old bird,' said Corson, when I had done, but there was some good in her after all. "'She has been a good friend to me,' I said, and we called a servant from below and left the gruesome room to his guardianship. "'And now there's another little job to be done. There is one of my men a prisoner down on Davis Street. I must get him out.' "'I'm with you, sir,' said Corson heartily. I'm hoping there's some hedge to be cracked.' I had not counted on the policeman's aid, but I was thankful to accept the honest offer. In the restaurant I found five of my men, and with this force I thought that I might safely attempt an assault on the den. The den was a low, two-story building of brick, with a warehouse below, and the quarters of the enemy, approached by a narrow stairway, above. "'Step quietly,' I cautioned my men as we neared the dark and forbidding entrance. Keep close to the shadow of the buildings. Our best chance is in a surprise. There was no guard at the door that stood open to the street, and we halted a moment before it to make sure of our plans. "'It's a bad hole,' whispered Corson. "'A fine place for an ambush,' I returned dubiously. "'Well, there's no help for it,' said the policeman. "'Come on!' And, drawing his club and revolver, he stole noiselessly up the stairs. I felt my way up, step by step, one hand against the wall, and my shoes scraping cautiously for a resting place, while my men followed in single file with the same silent care. "'But in spite of this precaution we were not two-thirds the way up the flight, before a voice shot out of the darkness. "'Who's there?' We stopped and held our breath. "'There was a minute of silence, but it was broken by the creek of a board, as one of the men shifted his weight. "'There's someone here,' cried the voice above us. "'Halt, or I'll shoot! Peterson! Con! Come quick!' "'There was no more need for silence, and Corson and I reached the landing just as a door opened that let the light stream from within. Two men had sprung to the doorway, and another could be seen faintly outlined in the dark hall. "'Holy mother! It's the cops!' came in an awe-stricken voice at the sight of Corson's star. "'Right, my hearty!' cried Corson, making a rush for the man, who darted down the hall in an effort to escape. The two men jumped back into the room and tried to close the door, but I was upon them before they could swing it shut. Four of my men had followed me close, and with a few blows, given and taken, the two were prisoners. "'Tie them fast,' I ordered, and hastened to see how Corson fared. I met the worthy policemen in the hall, blown but exultant. Owens was following him, and between them they half dragged, half carried the man who had given the alarm. "'He made a fight for it,' puffed Corson. "'But I got in one good look at him, and he wilted. "'You'll surrender next time when I tell you, won't you, me buck?' "'Aren't there any more about?' I asked. There were more than three left in the gang. "'If there had been more of us, you'd never have got in,' growled one of the prisoners. "'Where's Barkhouse?' I asked. "'Find him,' was the defiant reply. We began the search, opening one room after another. Some were sleeping rooms, some the meeting rooms, while the one we had first entered appeared to be the guard room. "'Hello, what's this?' exclaimed Corson, tapping an iron door, such as closes a warehouse against fire. "'It's locked, sure enough,' said Owens, after trial. "'It must be the place we are looking for,' I said. Search those men for keys.' The search was without result. "'It's a sledge we must get,' said Owens, starting to look about for one. "'Hold on,' said Corson. I was near forgetting. I've got a master key that fits most of these locks. It's handy for closing up a warehouse when some clerk with his wits of wandering forgets his job. So, like enough, it's good at unlocking. It needed a little coaxing, but the bolt at last slid back and the heavy doors swung open. The room was furnished with a large table, a big desk, and a dozen chairs, which sprang out of the darkness as I struck a match and lit the gas. It was evidently the council room of the enemy. "'This is elegant,' said the policeman, looking around with approval. "'But your man isn't here, I'd say.' "'Well, it looks as though there might be something here of interest,' I replied, seizing eagerly upon the papers that lay scattered about upon the desk. "'Look in the other rooms while I run through these.' A rude diagram on the topmost paper caught my eye. It represented a road branching thrice. On the third branch was a cross, and then at intervals four crosses, as if to mark some features of the landscape. Underneath was written, "'From B, follow, one and one-half mile. Take third road, three or five.' The paper bore date of that day, and I guessed that it was meant to show the way to the supposed hiding-place of the boy. Then, as I looked again, the words and lines touched a chord of memory. Something I had seen or known before was vaguely suggested. I groped in the obscurity for a moment, vainly reaching for the phantom that danced just beyond the grasp of my mental fingers. There was no time to lose in speculating, and I turned to the work that pressed before us. But as I thrust the papers into my pocket to resume the search for Barkhouse, the elusive memory flashed on me. The diagram of the enemy recalled the single slip of paper I had found in the pocket of Henry Wilton's coat on the fatal night of my arrival. I had kept it always with me, for it was the sole memorandum left by him of the business that had brought him to his death. I brought it out, very badly creased and rumpled from much carrying, but still quite as legible as on the night I had first seen it. Placed side by side with the map I had before me, the resemblance was less close than I had thought. Yet all the main features were the same. There was the road branching thrice, a cross in both marked the junction of the third road, as though it gave sign of a building or some natural landmark. And the other features were indicated in the same order. No, there was a difference in this point. There were five crosses on the third road in the enemy's diagram, while there were but four in mine. In the matter of description the enemy had the advantage, slight as it was. Third road, cockeyed barn, iron cow, and the confused jumble of drunken letters and figures that Henry had written. I could make nothing of these. From B, follow one and a half mile. Take third road, three or five. This was at least half intelligible. Then it came on me like a blow. Was this the mysterious key that the unknown had demanded of me in her letter of this morning? I turned sick at heart at the thought that my ignorance and inattention had put the boy in jeopardy. The enemy had perhaps a clue to the hiding place that the unknown did not possess. The desertion of these headquarters swelled my fears. Though Terrell, disabled by wounds, was groaning with pain and rage at Livermore, and the night's arrests at Bortons had reduced the numbers of the band, Darby Meeker was still on the active list. And Dodridge Knapp? He was free now to follow his desperate plot to its end without risking his schemes of fortune. The absence of Meeker, the date of today upon the map, suggested that it had but just come into the hands of the enemy, and the lack of a garrison in the den raised the apprehension that fresh mischief was afoot. I was roused from my reverie of fears by confused shouts from down the hall, and sprang hastily to the door with the thought that the forces of the enemy were upon us. Here he is! They've found him! cried an excited voice. Yes, sir! Here he comes! It was truly the stalwart guard, but two days had made a sad change in him. With head bound in a bloody rag and face of a waxy yellow hue, he staggered limply out of one of the rear rooms between Corson and Owens. Brace up, me boy! You're worth ten dead men, said the policemen, encouragingly. That's right, you'll be yourself in a jiffy. Barkhouse was soon propped up on the lounge in the guard room. And with a few sips of whisky and a fresh bandage, began to look like a more hopeful case. "'Twas a nasty cut,' said one of the men sympathetically. "'How did you get it?' I asked. "'I don't rightly know,' said Barkhouse, faintly. "'Twas the night you went to Mother Borton's last week. "'After I leaves you, I walks down a piece towards the bay. "'And as I get about to Drum Street, I guess, a fellow comes along as I takes to be a sailor half loaded.' "'Hello, mate,' he says, trying to steady himself. "'What time did you say it was?' "'I didn't say,' says I. "'For I was too far away from home. "'I didn't say,' says I. "'For I was too fly to take out my watch, even if it is a nickel-plater. "'For how could he tell what it was in the dark? "'And it's good for a dozen drinks at any waterfront saloon.' "'Well, what do you make it?' he says. "'And as I was trying to reckon whether it was nearer twelve or one o'clock, he lurches up again me and grabs my arms as if to steady himself. "'Then three or four fellows jumps from behind a lot of packing-boxes there and grabs me. "'I makes a fight for it, and gives one yell, and the next I knows I was in a dark room here with the sorest head in San Francisco. "'And I reckon I've been here about six days, and another would have finished me.' "'Barkhouse's six days' estimate provoked a smile. "'If you could get paid on your time-reckoning,' remarked Owens, in a humorous tone, "'you'd be well off, Bob. "'Twas night before last you got took in. "'Barkhouse looked incredulous, but I nodded my support of Owens's remarkable statement. "'However, you'll be paid on your own reckoning, and better, too,' I said, and he was thereby consoled. "'Now, we must get out of here,' I continued. "'Take turns by twos in helping Barkhouse. "'We had better not risk staying here.' "'Right,' said Corson. "'And now we'll just take these three beauties along to the station.' "'On what charge?' growled the man, addressed as Khan. "'Disturbing the peace. "'You've disturbed ours, for sure, resisting an officer, vulgar language, keeping a disorderly house, carrying a pistol without a permit, and anything else I can think up between here and the station house. "'If that doesn't satisfy you, I'll put you down for assault and robbery on Barkhouse's story, and you may look for a charge of murder before you get out. "'The men swore at this cheerful prospect, but as their hands were bound behind them, and Corson walked with his club in one hand, and his pistol in the other, they took up the march at command, and the rest of us slowly followed. End of Chapter 27, Recording by Roger Maline