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Show , BLINDFOLDED ii llj y BY EARLE ASHLEY" WALCOTT J ; Copyright," 1906, by Ta Bobbs-MerjiU Company. ' ' ' ' CnAPTKt L ' 1 A Dangerous Errand. A city of hills with a fringe of houses crowning ti.e lower heights; half mountains moun-tains rising bare In the background and becoming real mountains as they stretched away In the distance to right and left; a. confused mass of buildings coming tojthe water's edge on the flat; a forest ol masts, ships swinging. in the stream, and the streaked, yellow, gTay- ?reen water of the bay taking a cold light rom the aettlng sun as it struggled through the wisps of fog that fluttered above the serrated sky-line of the city these were my first Impressions of San FTanclsco. The wind blew fresh and chill from the west with the-damp and salt of the Pa-clflo Pa-clflo heavy upon It, as I breasted It from the forward deck of the ferry steamer, Kl- Capltan. As I drank In the air and ' was silent with admiration of the beautiful beau-tiful panorama that was spread before me, my. companion touched me on the arm. "Come Into the cabin," he said. "You'll be one of those fellows who can't come to San Francisco without catching his death of cold, and then lays It on to the & collection of old show-bills ornamenting the dirty windows testified that It was vacant. The liquor business appeared to be overdone In that quarter, for across the alley, hardly twenty feet away, was a saloon; across Montgomery street was another; and two more held out their friendly light on the corner of the street above. . In the saloons the disreputabitUy was cheerful and cheerfully acknowledged with lights and noise, here of a broken lano. there of a wheesy accordeon. and. eyond. of a half-drunken man singing or shooting a ribald song. Elsewhere it was sullen and dark the lights, where there - were lights glittering through chinks, or showing the outlines of drawn curtains. "This Isn't Just the place I'd choose for entertaining friends," said Henry, with a visible relief from his uneasiness, as we climbed the worn and dirty stair. "Oh. that's all right." I said, magnanimously magnani-mously accepting his apology. "It doesn't have all the modern conveniences," con-veniences," admitted Henry, - as we stumbled up the second flight, "but It's suitable to the business we have in hand, and " "What's that?" I exclaimed, as a creaking, creak-ing, rasping sound came from the hall be- Inw. climate instead of his own lack of common com-mon sense. Come, I can't spare you, now I've got you here at last. I wouldn't lose you for a million dollars." "I'll coma down for half the money," I returned, as he took me by the arm and led roe into the close cabin. My companion, I should explain, was Henry Wilton, the son of my father's cousin, who had the advantages of a few years of residence In California, . and sported all the airs of a pioneer. We had been close friends through boyhood and youth, and It was on his offer, of employment that I had come to the city by the Golden Gate. "What a resemblance!" I heard a woman wom-an exclaim, as we entered the cabin. "They must be twins." "There, Henry," I whispered," with a laugh; "you see we are discovered." Though our relationship was not close we had been cast In the mold of some common com-mon ancestor. We were so nearly alike In form and feature as to perplex all but our Intimate acquaintances, and we had made the resemblance the occasion of many tricks In our boyhood days. Henry had heard the exclamation as well as I.. To my surprise. It appeared to bring him annoyance or apprehension rather than amusement.' , vi had forgotten that it would make us . picuous,i. he said, more to himself fi to me, I thought: and he glanced tugh the cabin as though he looked for k e peril, i "We were used to that long ago," I said, as we found & seat. "Is the business busi-ness ready for me? You wrote that you thought It would be in hand by the time I got here." VWe can't talk about it here," he said In a low tone. "There is plenty of work to be done. It's not hard, but as' I wrote you. it needs a man of pluck and discretion. dis-cretion. It's delicate business, you understand, under-stand, and dangerous If you can't keep your head. But the danger won't be , yours. I've got that end of It." - "Of course you're not trying to do any-. any-. thing against the lawT" I said. "Oh. it has nothing to do with the law," he replied with an odd smile. "In fact, It's a little matter In which we are-well, are-well, you might say outside the law." I gave gasp at this disturbing sug-' sug-' gestlon, and Henry chuckled as he saw . the consternation written on my face. Then he rose and said: "Come, the boat Is getting in." ' "But I want to know" I began. "Bother your 'want-to-knows.' It's not against the law lust outside it. you understand. un-derstand. Til tell you more of it when we get to my room.. Give me that valise. Come along now." And as the boat entered en-tered the slip we found ourselves at the front of the pressing crowd that is always urging In and out of San Francisco by the gateway of the Market street ferry. And as we pushed our way through the clamoring hackdrivers and hotel-runners who blocked the entrance to the city, I was aroused by a sudden thrill of the instinct in-stinct of danger that warns one when he meets the eye of a snake. It was gone in an instant, but I had time to trace effect ' to cause. The warning came this time from the eyes of a man, a lithe, keen-faced keen-faced man who flashed a look of triumph-i triumph-i ant malice, on us as he disappeared In the waiting-room of the ferry shed. But the keen face and the basilisk glance were ' hrnut Into mr mind In that mnmont aa We stopped, and listened, peering Into the obscurity beneath. Nothing but silence. The house might have been a tomb, for any sign of life that showed within It. "It must have been outside," said Henry. "I thought for a moment perhaps per-haps " Then he checked himself. "Well, you'll know later." he concluded, and opened the door of the last room on the right of the hall. As we entered he held the door sjar for a full minute, listening Intently. The obscurity ob-scurity of the hall gave back nothing to eye or ear, and at last h4 closed the door softly and touched a match to the gas. The room was at the rear corner of the building. There were two windows, one looking to the west, the other to the north, and opening on the narrow alley. "Not so bad after you get In." said Henry, half' as an Introduction, half as an apology. "It's luxury after six days of railroading," railroad-ing," I replied. "Well, lie down there and make the most of it, then," he said, "for there may be trouble ahead." And he listened agatn at the crack of the door. "In heaven's name, Henry, what's up?" I exclaimed with some temper, "You're as full of mystery as a dime novel." Henry smiled grimly. "Maybe you don't recognize that this is serious business," he said.- "I don't understand it at all." "Well, I'm not Joking. There's mischief afoot, and I'm in danger." "From whom? From what?" "Never mind that .now. It's another person's business not mine, you understand under-stand and I can't explain until I know whether you are to be one of us or not." "That's what I came for, isn't it?" "Hm! You don't seem to be overly pleased with the Job." "Which Isn't surprising when I haven't the first idea what it is. except that It seems likely to get me killed or in Jail." "Oh, if you're feeling that way about it. I know of another Job that will suit you better In" "I'm not afraid," " I broke In hotly. "But I want to see the noose before I put my head Into It." "Then I am sure the assistant bookkeeper's book-keeper's place I have In mind will " "Confound your Impudence!" I cried, laughing In spite of myself at the way he was playing on me. "Assistant bookkeeper-be hanged! I'm with you from A to Z; but If you love me don't keep me in the dark." "I'll tell you all you need to know. Too much might be dangerous." I was about to protest that I could not know too much, when Henry raised his hand with a warning to silence. I heard the sound of a cautious step outside. Then Henry sprang to the door, flung it open, and bolted down the passage. There was the gleam of a revolver in his hand. I hurried after him.' but as I crossed the threshold he was coming softly back, with finger on lips. "I must see to the guards again. I can have them together by midnight." "Can I help?" "No. Just wait here till I get back. Bolt the door, and let nobody In but me. It Isn't likely that they will try to do anything any-thing before midnight. If they do well, here s a revolver. Shoot through the door If anybody tries to break It down." I stood In the dooi. revolver in hand. watched him down the hall, and listened to his footsteps as they descended the stairs and at last faded away into the murmur of life that came up from the open street. (To Be-Contlnued.) deeply as though I had known then what vll waa behind them. My companion swore softly to himself. "What's the matter?" I . asked. . "Don't look around," he said. "We're patched. lTTh snake-eyed man?" vld you see him, too?" His manner careless, but his tone was troubled. ,"i thought I had given him the slip," he continued. "Well, there's no help for It now." "Are w to hunt for a hiding place?" I asked doubtfully. - "Oh no; not now. I was going to take you direct to my room. Now we are going go-ing to a hotel with all the publicity we can get. Her we are." "Internaytlonal! Internayttonal!" shouted shout-ed a runner by our side. "Yes. sir; here you are. sir. Free 'bus. sir." And In another an-other moment we were In the lumbering roach, and as soon as the last lingering passenger had rome from the boat we wer whirling over the rough pavement, , through a confusing mace of streets, past long rows of dingy, ugly buildings, to the hotel. Though the sun had but Just set. the lights were glimmering In the windows I along Kearny street as we stepped from ; the 'bus, and the twilight was rapidly fading Into darkness. ' "A room for the night," ordered Hen-i Hen-i ry. as we entered the hotel office and saluted sa-luted the clerk. "Your brother will sleep with you?" in-1 in-1 quired the clerk. "Yes." j "That's right if you are sure you can tell which la which in the morning," said 1 the clerk, with a smile at his poor Joke. ' Henry smiled in return, paid the bill, took the key, and w were shown to our room. After removing the travel stains, I declared myself quite ready to dine. "We won't need this again," said Henry, Hen-ry, tossing the key on the bureau as we left. "Or, no; on second thought," he continued, "It's Just as well to leave the door locked. There might be some Inquisitive In-quisitive callers." And we betook ourselves our-selves to a hasty meal that was not of a nature to raise my opinion of San Frap-I Frap-I clsco. "Are you through?" asked my companion, compan-ion, as I shook my head over a melancholy melan-choly piece of pie, and laid down my fork. "Well, take your bag. This door look ( pleasant and say nothing." He led the way to the bar and then i through a back room or two. until with a turn we were in a blind alley. With a few more steps we found ourselves In a back ball which led Into another building. build-ing. I became confused after a little, and ot all idea of the direction in which we were going. We mounted one flight of stairs. I remember, and after passing through two or three winding hallways ir' down another flight, came out on a street. ter a pause to observe the street be- w ventured forth, Henry said: jruess we're all right now. We must ....ice It, anyhow." So we dodged along n.th shadow till we came to Montgomery Montgom-ery street, and after a brief walk, turned mo a gloomy doorway and mounted a worn pair of stairs. The house was three stories in height, 't stood on the corner of an alley, and ihe lower floor was Intended for a store or saloon; but a renting agent's sign and |