ld of me when
I was a kid. I don't remember the time when I wasn't with him."

"I suppose you have always lived in New York?"

"No; I lived for several years in Australia. Tim was in the same
business there. I came on with him a year or more since."

"Do you think you ever lived in New York before?"

"Yes; Tim has told me that I was born in New York."

"I understand that you have left Tim now?"

"Yes."

"Why, may I ask?"

"Because I didn't like the business he was in. But I liked it better
than the one he wanted me to go into."

"What was that?"

"Burglary."

The young reporter started in surprise.

"Well," he said, "this is a new tack for Tim. However, I never looked
upon him as a man who would shrink from any violation of the laws,
except murder. I don't think he would do that."

"No; Tim isn't quite so bad. He isn't the worst man alive, though he
is a rather hard customer. It was his wanting me to enter a house on
Madison Avenue and open a desk that led to me going on this trip."

"Tell me about it, if you don't mind."

Thus invited, Dodger told his story to Randolph Leslie, keeping
nothing back.

He finished by showing him the letter he had found in the valise.

Chapter XXIII.
Through The Golden Gate.

"Well, this is certainly a remarkable letter," said the reporter, as
he handed it back to Dodger. "I am at a loss to understand the
interest which this man appears to feel in you."

"I look upon him as my enemy," said Dodger. "But an enemy doesn't
spend so much money upon another as he has."

"Unless he has object in it," amended Leslie, shrewdly. "Do you know
of any connection this man has with you?"

"No; I never heard of him until I entered his house," and Dodger
flushed as he thought that his entrance into the mansion on Madison
Avenue had been as a burglar.

"It seems to me that he knows more about you than you do about him. It
also seems to me that he is anxious to get you out of New York, the
farther the better."

"But what harm could I do him in New York?" asked Dodger, puzzled.

"That is the question which I cannot answer. You say he was
instrumental in getting his Cousin Florence out of the house?"

"Yes; he wanted to marry her."

"And she would not consent?"

"No; I think she hates him."

"How old is she?"

"Seventeen."

"And he?"

"He looks about thirty-five."

"The difference in years isn't great enough to constitute an obstacle,
provided she loved him