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Updated: June 20, 2025
"This way then," said Wilson. "I know this part of town better than you do. Run on your toes." And he darted past Borton's, and plunged into an alley that led toward the north. Porter and I followed, as quietly as possible, through the dark and noisome cut-off to Pacific Street. Wilson turned toward the bay, and crossing the street at the next corner followed the main thoroughfare to Broadway.
"Dicky Nahl was along here, and he said Terrill and Meeker and the other gang was holding a powwow at Borton's, and we'd best look out for surprises." "Was that all?" "Well, he said he guessed there was a new deal on hand, and they was a- buzzin' like a nest of hornets. It was hornets, wasn't it, Bob?" "Hornets was what he said," repeated Barkhouse stolidly. "Where's Dicky now?" I asked.
"But I must," said I, giving her greeting. "What service do you require?" "Tell me what you have been doing." "I have just been telling Miss Luella." "And what, may I ask?" "I was explaining this morning's troubles." "Oh, I heard a little of them from Mr. Knapp. Have you had any more of your adventures at Borton's and other dreadful places?" I glanced at Luella.
"I ain't good at guessing," said Porter, "and Bob's nothing at all at it." "Well," said I, "we had better go down to Borton's and look into this matter." There was silence for a time. My guards walked beside me without speaking, but I felt the protest in their manner. At last Barkhouse said respectfully: "There's no use to do that, sir.
Drop your disguise. You are no actor. You are no more like him than " The simile failed her in her wrath. "Satyr to Hyperion," I quoted bitterly. "Make it strong, please." I had thought myself in a tight place in the row at Borton's, but it was nothing to this encounter. "Oh, where is he? What has happened?" she cried. "Nothing has happened," I said calmly, determining at last to brazen it out.
I was not entirely trustful, and after I had lighted the gas-jet I picked up the stone that lay among the fragments of glass, and unwrapped the paper. The sheet bore only the words: "At Borton's, at midnight. Richmond." This was the name of the agent of the Unknown, who had sent the other note. Dicky and his companion must then be protectors instead of enemies.
I thought I distinguished the dark figure of a man on guard within a few feet of the building, and my heart sank. "How many are in the parlor, Wilson?" I asked. Wilson applied his eye to the keyhole. "Can't see anybody but that one-eyed fellow, Broderick, but there might be more." A flash of memory came to me, and I felt in my pocket for Mother Borton's mysterious scrawl.
By the handwriting and by the indefinable scent that rose from the paper, I knew it for a message from the Unknown who held for me the secrets of life and death. The windows of Borton's shone cheerfully, although it was past midnight. At our cautious approach a signal was given, and with the answering word a man appeared from the obscurity. "All safe?" I inquired.
"If it hadn't been for Pork Chops here, I shouldn't have found you till the cows come home." "Well, what's up now?" I asked. "Why, you ought to know," said Dicky with evident surprise. "But you'd better be hurrying down to Borton's. The gang must be there by now."
"Yes, sor, you're wanted at Mother Borton's in a hurry," said another voice, and a man stepped forward. "There's the divil to pay!" I recognized the one-eyed man who had done me the service that enabled me to escape from Livermore. "Ah, Broderick, what's the matter?" "I didn't get no orders, sor, so I don't know, but there was the divil's own shindy in the height of progression when I left.
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