"Go to your rooms and get some rest," I said. "I am called away. Trent
will be in charge, and I will send word to him if I need any of you."
They looked at me in blank protest.
"You're not going alone, sir?" cried Owens in a tone of alarm.
"Oh, no. But I shall not need a guard." I hoped heartily that I did
not.
The men shook their heads doubtfully, and I continued:
"Corson will be down from the Central Station in fifteen or twenty
minutes. Just tell him that I've been sent for, and to come to-morrow
if he can make it in his way."
And bidding them good night I ran hastily down the stairs before any of
the men could frame his protest into words.
"Are you ready, sir?" asked the messenger.
"It is close on half-past twelve," I answered. "Where is she?"
"It's not far," said my guide evasively.
I understood the danger of speech, and did not press for an answer.
We plunged down Montgomery Street in the teeth of the wind that dashed
the spray in our faces at one moment, lulled an instant the better to
deceive the unwary, and then leaped at us from behind corners with the
impetuous rush of some great animal that turned to vapor as it reached
us. The street was dark except for the newspaper offices, which glowed
bright with lights on both sides of the way, busy with the only signs
of life that the storm and the midnight hour had left.
With the lighted buildings behind us we turned down California Street.
Half-way down the block, in front of the Merchants' Exchange, stood a
hack.
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