shrank
back against the farther wall at his approach.

"Oh, come," he said, a trifle testily, "I'm not going to hurt you. Get
on your hat. I'll see you're taken care of. I'll place you in charge
of my wife."

"And my father," she begged. "You'll take me to him?"

"Yes, yes, your father," he agreed in haste. "But first you'll come home
with me."

She snatched up a hat and shawl from the commode, and, with hurried
movements rearranged her hair; then she followed him submissively into
the gathering dusk, shrinking close as if to efface herself whenever
they passed anyone. The streets were full of men now, mostly bound from
hotels, lodging houses and tents to the Eldorado and kindred resorts.
Many of them ogled her curiously, for a female figure was a rarity in
nocturnal San Francisco.

They passed dimly lighted tents in which dark figures bulked grotesquely
against canvas walls. In one a man seemed to be dancing with a large
animal which Stanley told her was a grizzly bear.

"They have many queer pets," he said. "One of my neighbors keeps a pet
coon, and in another tent there are a bay horse, two dogs, two sheep
and a pair of goats. They sleep with their master like a happy family."

"It is all so strange," said the girl, faintly. "In the East my father
was a lawyer; we had a good house and a carriage; everything was so
different from--this. But after my mother died, he grew restless. He
sold everything and came to this rough, wild country. None of his old
friends would know him now, with his beard, his boots and the horrible
red flannel shirt."

Adrian made no reply. He was thinking of the tragic news which must ere
long be told to Burthen's daughter. For a time they strode along in
silence--until Stanley paused before an open door. Against the inner
light which streamed through it into the darkness of the street a
woman's figure was outlined.

"Well, here we are, at last," said Adrian. "And my wife's in the doorway
waiting to scold me for being so late."

Inez ran to meet him. "I have been anxious," she declared. She noted her
husband's companion, and stepped back, startled. "Adrian, who is this?"

"A daughter of the mur----" Adrian began. He broke the telltale word in
two: "Of James Burthen--Benito's partner."

"Ah, then you know my brother," Inez hailed her eagerly. She took the
girl's hands in her own and pressed them. "You must tell us all about
him--quickly. We have waited long for news."

"You are