ould never have breathed freely until I had
left San Francisco well behind me.

So wise, under the given circumstances, did this course of action seem
to me, that I promptly decided no other would have been feasible. The
thing for me to do, therefore, was to find out what trains left San
Francisco during the night time. I thought I might calculate upon the
fellow's having boarded a passenger train in an open and ordinary manner
as, if his plans had been properly laid, no suspicion could attach to
him, and there would be no necessity for more desperate precautions.

He could have had a good start before the fire spread and was
discovered, and--still taking it for granted that I was correct in my
deductions--the sooner I was on his track the better. My hands were
burned, I was practically without clothes, and had suffered a
considerable nervous shock, which at another time I might have had
leisure to feel and analyse.

But I did neither at the present juncture. I simply procured a stiff
portion of brandy neat, drank it at a gulp, purchased a few articles of
clothing from an accommodating waiter, dressed myself with all speed,
and set off to the principal railway station, or "depot," of San
Francisco.

"It's dogged as does it," I quoted to myself, with a certain grimness of
resolution, when my spirits began to flag.

As I got inside the station there was a certain bustle and stir of
departure or arrival in the air. "Train going out or coming in?" I asked
shortly of a sleepy porter.

"Going out--Salt Lake City," grumbled the man in reply.

I don't know why I instantly felt the conviction that the bogus Farnham
was in that train, but I did feel it, and so intensely that when I saw
the long line of cars beginning to move it seemed to me that not to
reach it and jump on board would mean the ruin of my life.

I have a dim recollection of persons shouting at me, of feeling a
detaining hand trying to drag me back. I remember, too, thrashing out
with considerable force, ridding myself of my would-be preserver. I
caught on by the rear platform, and after flying helplessly for an
instant like a ribbon in the wind as the train increased its speed, I
got a foothold and climbed up the steps.

At the top was a negro night porter, ash-coloured with fright. He helped
to pull me on board, and I tipped him generously (when I began to regain
my breath and scattered wits) for agreeing not to make an excitement by
reporting the affa