Anyhow, just think it was a
dream. This was a water-front row--tough saloon--killed and robbed by
parties unknown. Maybe we'll have you before the coroner for the
identification, but maybe it's better not."
I nodded assent. My mind was too numbed to suggest another course.
The gray dawn was breaking through the chill fog, and people were
stirring in the streets as Detective Coogan led the way out of the
morgue. As we parted he gave me a curious look.
"I suppose you know your own business, Wilton," he said, "but I suspect
you'd be a sight safer if I'd clap you in jail."
And with this consoling comment he was gone, and I was left in the dawn
of my first morning in San Francisco, mind and body at the nadir of
depression after the excitement and perils of the night.
CHAPTER V
DODDRIDGE KNAPP
It was past ten o'clock of the morning when the remembrance of the
mysterious note I had received the preceding night came on me. I took
the slip from my pocket, and read its contents once more:
"Don't make the change until I see you. The money will be ready in the
morning. Be at the bank at 10:30."
This was perplexing enough, but it furnished me with an idea. Of course
I could not take money intended for Henry Wilton. But here was the
first chance to get at the heart of this dreadful business. The writer
of the note, I must suppose, was the mysterious employer. If I could
see her I could find the way of escape from the dangerous burden of
Henry Wilton's personality and mission.
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