imagination, lurked in the dark corners and half-hidden doorways of the dimly-lighted hall. And

I started for the Golden Gate at my friend's of

any danger that Henry was ready to face. Wearied as I was with travel, I was too much excited for sleep. Reading was equ

wung from the frame-post of the window, reaching nearly to a crazy wooden stair that led from the black depths below. There were lights here and there in the back rooms. Snatches of drunken song and rude jest came

ee or four men near the side entrance of a saloon. They appeared quiet enough. The quarrel, if any there was, must be inside the saloon. After an interval of comparative silence, the noise rose again. There were shou

uddenly flew around, and a human figure swung in at the open casing. Astonishment at this singular proceeding did not dull the instinct of self-defense. The survey of my surr

isper, and I recognized my s

isordered, and his face and

fasten this shutter. The other one's gone, but nobody can get in

w?" I asked, thoroughly

It's a case of life and death. I must be out of here in two minutes. Do as I say, now. Don't ask questions. I'll t

er his were, and he stood looking a

"You can dress in anything of mine you like. I'll be in be

own the stairs. He had evidently had some practice in getting about quietly. I could only wonder, as I

e possibilities, for outside the wi

ollowed by a gurgling sound and n

en was struggling and pushing away from Montgomery Street into

o him," sa

fingers and smothering palms that tried to close it in, and rose for the fraction of a second o

it hissed. "Curse on you,

up for a brief period with mine, and whose wicked plans have proved the master influence of my life. It was a strong, cruel, wolfish face-the face of a man near sixty, with a fierce yellow-gr

here was a man running through the hall and down the rickety stairs, making the building ring to the same cries. My own feelings were those of overmastering fear for my friend. He had gone on his mysterious, dangerous errand,

d came to know that the cries for help had come from me, and that I was the

unken song. The alley was dark, and I could see no one in its depths. The house through which I had flown shouting was now silent, and if any one on the str

he said lightly, as I

nsisted. "There was murder done

d him how Henry had left the house ju

shoulders, turned me to the g

re not one of that kind. Some of 'em l

ted me of having had an opium dream. The house, I learned, was

lantern from his overcoat pocket, and stood in the shelter of the building as he lighted

oint beneath the window,

ggle, no shred of torn clothing, no drop of