Chapter IX: Part 9

"I shall be guided by the wishes of my client, and where he has not expressed a wish, I shall follow my own judgment."

Partridge and Nelson looked at each other.

"I think I shall go and see Kendrick," said Partridge.

"Mr. Kendrick is in a stupor, and the doctor would not permit him to be seen, even if he could be roused," I replied.

"This is very awkward," said Nelson, drumming on the table with his fingers.

"Not at all," said Coleman, in calm and tactful voice. "Mr. Hampden has the money that was intrusted to Kendrick. He has Kendrick's power of attorney. For all practical purposes he is Kendrick. He will sign the checks just as Kendrick would have signed them. Is not that your idea, Mr. Hampden?"

"You have stated exactly my understanding of my instructions, Mr. Coleman. I am ready to sign any checks that Mr. Kendrick would sign if he were here."

Partridge nodded his assent to this construction of my orders, but Nelson still looked sourly at me.

"What checks do you think he would sign?" asked Nelson.

"Why, in general, I should say that they would be any that are approved by you three gentlemen."

Nelson's face cleared and he stopped drumming on the table.

"That is satisfactory," he said. "Then we had better make our headquarters again in Mr. Kendrick's office. It is the most central location. We shall be there a little before ten o'clock."

"You had better see the bank about transferring the money to your account before the opening," said Partridge, as we rose to go. "When the fun begins, you'll have no time to waste."

*CHAPTER XXIII*

*THE COMMITTEE OF SAFETY*

I came out of the bank from my morning visit in a daze of emotions. The street was thronged with hurrying crowds. The air was electric with the tension of social storm. The echoes of the mob's outburst could be heard in the indignant comments that passed from mouth to mouth; the fears that it inspired could be read in the tense lines that it had written on men's faces. But it was all one to me. I saw and I saw not. I heard and I heard not. I walked the street stunned, overwhelmed with the conviction that an irreparable blunder had snatched the control of events from my hands, and doomed Wharton Kendrick to swift and certain ruin.

I had found the president of the Golconda Bank in his private office at a few minutes after nine o'clock, and Wharton Kendrick's card had secured me prompt admission. I had known the president slightly for several years, and he received me with brusk kindness as I stated my errand and exhibited my credentials.

"Oh, we'll arrange that for you in two minutes," he said, after he had examined my papers, and questioned me on Wharton Kendrick's condition. "Just indorse that check, and I'll have the account put in your name."

When he had sent his messenger to the cashier with his directions, he continued:

"That is a heavy responsibility you have on your shoulders to-day. There is plenty of trouble ahead. We look to the syndicate to do the work of a commercial fire-patrol." And he favored me with a few words of advice for which I professed myself grateful. He was still giving counsel, when the cashier reappeared with a troubled face.

"There's something wrong about this," he said, laying my check before the president.

"That is Kendrick's signature," said the president, scrutinizing it once more.

"But look at the figures," urged the cashier.

"Seven million three hundred and twenty thousand dollars?"

"Yes; but there is only six million eight hundred and twenty thousand in the special account on which this check is drawn."

The president drew his lips into a whistle, and then said:

"Well, we can't do anything with it, you see. You'll have to go back to Kendrick and get him to correct it."

If I had been as wise at the moment as I became by subsequent reflection I should have summoned all my powers of eloquence to convince him that the safety of the bank as a part of the commercial structure of the city lay in getting that fund promptly released for use in the coming crisis. The arguments with which I could have supported such a thesis came to me in abundance a day later. But at the moment I was stricken dumb and my wits were scattered by the thought that Wharton Kendrick had used for his own purposes a half-million dollars of the syndicate's money, and was to be dishonored before the world.

Before I could recover myself the president had bowed me out of his room, and I was mechanically guided by my subconscious self to Wharton Kendrick's office. In my bewilderment I came into collision with a man who stood by the door, and begged his pardon without getting an impression of his personality.

"Why, God bless my soul, Hampden! What's the matter with you? You run over a man without even the politeness to call out 'Hi there!' and then you look at him as though it was the first time you'd ever set eyes on him. Is this the day you pick out to send your wits a-wool-gathering? Where's Kendrick? I see by the papers there was a row up at his house last night, and he got a nasty knock on the head."

It was General Wilson, looking more fiery and self-important than ever.

"What's the matter?" he continued, slapping me jovially on the back. "Is Kendrick worse hurt than the papers say? You look as though the bank had broken."

I told the general of the assault on Kendrick and of his perilous condition, and the general puffed out his red cheeks, blew out his breath with a noise like a porpoise, and cursed the mob with a heartiness and good will that was inspiring.

"Put me in charge of this town for twenty-four hours, and I'd hang every mother's son of those agitators higher than Haman," said the general, when the ready stock of curses ran out. "That's the way to deal with 'em. But cheer up! Kendrick will be all right in a few days."

I felt an inward shrinking from telling General Wilson the rest of the woeful truth. But the truth would be the property of the street within an hour, and it could not be made worse by trusting it to even so garrulous a confidant as he. Perhaps I had a faint hope that the old campaigner might make a suggestion that would help me out of my difficulties; but the overmastering thought in my mind was that I held the position of a conductor of a runaway train that was plunging down a mountain grade to certain wreck, and it did not matter what I did or said. So taking the general into Wharton Kendrick's office, I told him my tale of the dishonored check.

He took it more calmly than I had expected. "How much did you say he's overdrawn?" he asked in businesslike tones.

"Five hundred thousand dollars."

"That was the deuce of a mistake for Kendrick to make. Can't you get him to correct it?"

I groaned out a miserable negative.

"I left there at half-past eight this morning," I returned, "and he hadn't come out of the stupor that I left him in last night."

General Wilson drew a prolonged whistle, and looked grave. Then he said:

"There's just one thing to do. Get some of Kendrick's friends to advance the half-million. Deposit it to his account. Then the bank will pay your check. Then you'll have the money, and can pay back the advance inside of one minute."

"Half a million is a big sum," I said doubtingly. "I don't know anybody who will put that up at short notice."

General Wilson threw himself back in his chair with an air of marvelous self-importance.

"Hang it, man!" he cried. "Why don't you ask me? You don't suppose that General Wilson would let his friend Kendrick go to the wall for want of a trifling favor like that, do you? I've a notion to be insulted at not being asked--hang me if I haven't!"

I grasped his hand, and expressed my opinion of his offer in dumb show. There was a painful task before me, however, and as it could not be postponed, I hastened to perform it.

"You're a trump, General Wilson, but I can't take up with your offer."

"Why not?"

"Because," I said slowly, "I can't pay back the five hundred thousand if you advance it."

"What do you mean?" demanded General Wilson in bewilderment.

"Well, I am afraid that the figures on the check are correct."

"Correct? How's that?"

"They are the figures of the balance of the syndicate's fund deposited in Wharton Kendrick's hands. They show the amount of money that ought to be in the bank--and it isn't there."

General Wilson drew another long whistle, and his face suddenly became grave again.

"Then he has used half a million of the syndicate's money?"

"I suppose so."

"What in the name of common sense did he do that for?" demanded the general irritably.

"I suppose he was sure he could make it up when the time came," I said in feeble defense.

"They always are," said the general grimly.

"Oh, I have no doubt he had everything calculated out to the last dollar," I returned. "The only thing he didn't calculate on was this knock on the head. If he was on his feet he would have the money in five minutes."

"Well, I suppose he would," said the general. "But he isn't on his feet, and what's the result?"

"The result is smash," said I with grim despair. "Partridge, Nelson and Coleman will be here inside of twenty minutes. When they set foot inside that door, Wharton Kendrick had better be dead."

General Wilson studied vacancy for a minute. Then he said slowly:

"You said you got a power of attorney out of Kendrick, didn't you?"

I handed him the paper I had drawn and Wharton Kendrick had signed.

He studied it carefully, and then nodded his head as though it met his approval. At last he said:

"Well, then, there's a way out. I was coming in this morning to put through that swamp-land deal. Why, you were at Kendrick's on Sunday when I told him that he was going to accept eight hundred thousand for that land, and he hemmed and hawed, and told me to come in this morning. Of course I could see in his eye that he was going to take me up, but he was playing coy. Now I'll make you the offer I would make him if he was here. I'll pay you five hundred thousand down, balance in thirty days, or when deed passes." He looked at me with a mixture of business shrewdness and bluff friendship.

"I'll take the responsibility of accepting that offer," I said promptly. And General Wilson drew his check and scribbled a few lines on a sheet of paper.

"Here, sign this receipt and memorandum of agreement, and give me that power of attorney; I'll have it recorded," he said. "Now take that check and get over to the bank as quick as the Lord'll let you. We'll make out the contract in due form this afternoon, and I'll get that on record, too." Then he chuckled jovially, and gave me another slap on the back as he added: "Stick to me, and I'll make a Napoleon of Finance out of you yet, Hampden."

Until I felt the sudden rebound of my spirits when I saw the check in my hand, I did not realize how horribly I had been scared. I was in a position to appreciate the feelings of a man who felt his house tumbling about his ears in a mighty earthquake, and had waked to find it only a nightmare. But I thanked General Wilson calmly, and rushed hurriedly over to the bank. I had small difficulty in impressing the president with the importance of haste; and the account was cleared and entered in my name before the opening hour.

As I returned to the office I met William T. Coleman coming away. His face was calm with resolute strength, and his eyes carried the magnetic inspiration of courage.

"I just looked in to tell you that I can't sit with your committee for an hour or two," he said. "I have some other irons in the fire; but I'll be in later. Partridge and Nelson are there now, and whatever they approve will be satisfactory to me. If you get at loggerheads, send for me, and I'll come."

His manner more than his words put me in heart with the assurance that I should not have to stand alone in battle, and I hastened with fresh confidence to take my place in the council.

"They're hammering things pretty hard on the exchanges," said Partridge after greetings had been made. "Prices are holding up well, so far, but I guess we'll have to put a brace under some of those fellows inside of half an hour." And with a clouded brow he studied the strip that came from the ticker.

"Carey and Son are shaky," said Nelson. "So are Benbow and Johnson, and a dozen others. And worst of all we've got to put some more coin into those confounded banks."

"It's like throwing the money away," groaned Partridge. "They can't put up collateral that a gambler would look at."

Nelson adjusted his gold-rimmed eye-glasses to look at his list of suspects, and gave his head a shake.

"Well, we've got to keep them afloat till these troubles are over," he said with decision.

"And the infernal part of it is," said Partridge, "that those fellows know it. I'd give a thousand dollars out of my own pocket, if we could let them drop without hurting any one else." And he resumed his study of the ticker with an irritated face.

The noise of the shouting crowds that filled and surrounded the exchanges floated up through the windows, rising and falling like the roar of ocean breakers. There was a curious variation of quality in the swelling volumes of sound. Now it expressed apprehension; now desperation; and again there was the tonic roar of exultation rising above the lesser cries.

We had not been in consultation ten minutes when the first application for support came from a pale but assertive man who tried to conceal his desperation under an air of bluster.

"Manning, of Smith and Manning," whispered Nelson to me, as the man entered the door.

He began to explain his business in roundabout phrase.

"Never mind that, Manning," said Partridge. "You're in the door, and you'll be squeezed if we don't help you. That's the long and short of it. How much are you in for, and what security can you offer? Let's see those papers. They tell the story, don't they?"

Manning wiped his forehead, with a sigh, and looked relieved rather than hurt at Partridge's abruptness.

"Five thousand will pull us through," he gasped.

"No it won't," said Partridge, running over the papers. "Here's another note for thirty-five hundred. Einstein and Company won't wait. This is a pretty poor showing. No wonder the bank wouldn't carry you any longer!"

"We can get along all right if we get out of this hole," pleaded Manning.

"Well, we'll take up these two claims on your note for thirty days," said Partridge after a telegraphic glance at Nelson and me. "Sign here."

I made out the checks, and Manning, once more putting on his blustering air as he would have put on an overcoat, went out to face his enemies.

From this time on, there was a steady stream of applicants, some frankly admitting their desperate condition, some trying to conceal their fears under an assumption of confidence. But whatever of pretense a man had covered himself with to enter our office was ruthlessly stripped from him as soon as he made his request for money. For one minute of the day, at least, he had to face the truth, and to see himself as he was. I soon discovered that Partridge's judgment of commercial paper was quick and sure. Nelson and I recognized our inferiority and promptly deferred to his opinions. Only once during the day did we overrule him, and in that instance we acted rather on an inspiration of mercy than on our commercial judgment.

"His paper is no good, and he wouldn't carry anybody else with him if he went to the wall," objected Partridge, when the man we had insisted on saving from ruin had gone out.

"The paper is bad," admitted Nelson, "but the man is all right. I like his looks."

"Yes," I added, "we have double the chance of getting the money back from him that we have of getting it from that fat, oily-tongued fellow who stood us up for twenty thousand a few minutes ago."

I was pleased to remind Partridge of the incident a few months later when our protege redeemed his obligation in full at the same time that the oily-tongued heavy-weight compromised for thirty cents on the dollar.

But despite this temporary disagreement I was none the less ready to follow Partridge's judgment on the cases that came before us. And after the cross-questioning of the applicant was over, Nelson and I rarely refused a nod of assent to his inquiring glance. His comments ran something like this, as the stream of the financially lame, halt and blind passed before us:

"That's all tommyrot--you don't need the half of that. Seven thousand will pull you through. Here! what do you mean by coming to us? Any bank in the city would take that collateral. No. Not a dollar unless you will make over your stock to Nelson as trustee. Here! you'll have to get your brother to sign that note. Take it now. He'll do it, when you tell him that we won't touch it without. That collateral is no good; I know you've got better. Don't waste our time, unless you're willing to show it. See here! you'll need more than that. What do you mean by telling us that you owe only ten thousand when your balance-sheet here calls for eighteen? Come now, do you think we are running a charity soup-house? You've got unencumbered real estate; raise your money on that."

We had been at this work close upon two hours when William T. Coleman returned. He brought a list of merchants who would need assistance, and the amounts that we might safely advance them.

"There's a very scary feeling outside," he said. "There are all sorts of rumors about plots to burn the city, and some men are foolish enough to say that San Francisco is going to be worse than Pittsburgh."

"That's not impossible," said Nelson.

"I know there has been plenty of talk in the anti-coolie clubs about burning the Pacific Mail steamers," I said. "But I don't think they will have the courage for it."

"It's only a question of leadership," said Coleman, "and that may develop at any minute. A mob is a queer creature. You can't tell what it will do. It is a coward by itself, but it is often capable of great courage when it has a leader--sometimes when it thinks it has a leader."

"What we need is troops," said Nelson. "I hope, Coleman, that you will use your influence with Bryant and Governor Irwin to get the militia called out. They ought to ask for Federal troops. There'll be no nonsense where they are stationed. They shoot to kill."

"You might bring your plans before the citizens' meeting this afternoon," said Coleman shortly.

Partridge had been studying the ticker intently, and now growled:

"There's somebody raising the devil out there in the stock-market. He's got the El Dorado Bank behind him by the looks of things, and he's whacking at prices with a sledge-hammer."

The name of this modern practitioner in the black art was on the tip of my tongue, but I kept it from escaping. If Wharton Kendrick had not revealed it in the course of the previous raid, it was evidently my cue to keep still.

The contest grew hotter as the day advanced. The waiting-room was filled with anxious men, and we watched with concern the growing total of advances we had been compelled to make. The Sundown Bank had to be rescued twice from imminent failure, and two other banks called upon us for loans. We had groaned at the character of the collateral offered by the Sundowners, but there was no help for it. We had to advance enough to keep their doors from closing, or the wreck would have begun; and once under way at this troublous juncture we saw no limit to the ruin ahead. But at last it was over. Three o'clock came, the banks closed, and rumor and fear could only threaten of trouble to come.

"Well, there's a hard day gone," said Partridge with a sigh of relief.

"And another one just beginning," said Coleman placidly.

"How do we stand now?" asked Nelson.

"We paid out three million seven hundred and ninety-eight thousand," I returned, glancing at the figures.

"That leaves us--?"

"Three million five hundred and twenty-two thousand."

"That is too small a margin for safety," said Coleman with decision. "This thing isn't over yet. I thought we would have enough to carry us through, but I see we must have more. You'll have to get out, Partridge, and you, too, Nelson, and see what can be done in the way of raising more money."

"I suppose it has got to be done," said Partridge. "We can't afford to go broke now." And Nelson nodded assent.

Coleman then turned to me: "It's time we were going over to the citizens' meeting," he said. "I've promised to preside. We are to meet in the Chamber of Commerce rooms, over here." And taking me by the arm, he led me out of the office.

During the stress of the day's business, we had come into close relations, and I had been more than ever impressed with the vigorous sense of this man. He displayed on that small field all the qualities of leadership demanded in the management of a nation. His resource and calm strength of mind inspired me with an unwonted warmth of admiration, and I could even then think only with regret of the ruler and statesman who had been smothered into the habit of a painstaking merchant. The generous emotions of hero-worship thrilled within me, and I was delighted to find that my admiration was repaid with a show of liking and confidence.

"There is one thing I am apprehensive about," he said, as we climbed the stairs to the Chamber of Commerce. "This meeting is a necessary thing, but it seems to have roused anxiety rather than allayed it. I hope that the speeches will be of a character to inspire confidence in our ability to handle the situation. If we don't inspire that confidence, we shall do more mischief than good."

As we entered the hall, we saw that it was already well filled with the solid men of the city. Mayor Bryant was there with the chief of police. General McComb nodded to me, and hastened to speak to Coleman. Members of the state and city governments, bankers, merchants, and a sprinkling of other classes of society were to be seen in the groups about the room.

There was more of cheerful calmness about the meeting than I had expected to find. The fact that these men were present was proof that they felt the emergency to be grave; but their talk was flavored with the saving salt of American humor that no calamity can suppress, and inspired by the optimistic American sentiment that "it will all come out right somehow."

I had scarce found a seat when General McComb with his most impressive military air called the meeting to order. When the company had been reduced to silence, he continued:

"I have taken the liberty of sending out the circulars that requested you to meet here for the purpose of considering the safety of the city. The people see in Monday night's outbreak the dangers that come when the passions of the mob are given full sway. An honored citizen has been struck down, property has been destroyed, and threats of worse things to come are heard on every side. In this emergency we should organize to give the city the protection essential to its preservation. We have with us a man who has twice come forward to lead the loyal citizens in the task of putting down the lawless and criminal elements of the city. I ask that William T. Coleman be chosen as chairman of this meeting."

The response left no doubt that Mr. Coleman was the assembly's unanimous choice. The men who had gathered there looked toward him with as unquestioning confidence as ever soldiers looked to their captain. And at the shout that answered General McComb, he walked to the chair with the assured step of a man accustomed to command.

"I thank you for your confidence," he said. "I have not thought, I do not think, that there is any pressing danger. But I recognize the moral value of organization in times of disquiet, and I am here to assist in putting the physical force of the city at the disposition of the authorities. I have not seen any need for augmenting the military or police forces of the city. But General McComb and Mayor Bryant, who have had better opportunities than I to observe the situation, have thought differently. Therefore let us take precautions. The people of this city have proved through many trials that they are essentially law-abiding. But there is a dangerous element here--an element of lawless young men who do not think of results, and who do not shrink from violence. If I had not realized this fact before, I should have been forced to acknowledge it when one of my closest friends fell a victim last night to their anger. But I have full confidence in the manhood of San Francisco. If the city is threatened by a rising of the disorderly elements I am ready to assure the authorities that a force of twenty thousand men can be raised, if need be, for the defense of our homes and property."

A silence followed the applause evoked by this speech. If the speaker expressed more confidence than he felt, his words accomplished their purpose of rousing the courage of the assembly before him. Then a mild-faced man rose, and in halting voice asked the privilege of putting a question.

"Mr. Chairman," he began, "why are not the constituted authorities sufficient to cope with this outbreak? We have police. We have a militia. They are the lawful arm of government to chastise the evil-doer. Why are they not competent to handle the hoodlum mobs?"

General McComb was touched to the quick by the question thus put, and rose with an air of military dignity.

"I can answer for the militia," he said with some asperity. "There is no more loyal and competent body anywhere than the one I have the honor to command. But the troops must be supported by the assurance that they have the moral and physical backing of law-abiding citizens. That is why I have asked you to meet us here. I have no doubt you would like to hear from our worthy mayor on the needs of the city in this emergency."

Mayor Bryant got to his feet at this indirect appeal, and a much troubled mayor he appeared. I doubted not from his expression that he would have welcomed some plan by which his office might be administered on the model of those German newspapers whose editors delegate to some hireling the responsibilities that lead to _lese-majeste_ and the jail, and pursue their way undisturbed by thoughts of consequences.

"I approve the proposed organization of citizens to cooeperate with the municipal authorities," he began in halting and anxious tones. "It will help us to keep the peace. But there wasn't so much violence last night as some have thought. The body of the meeting was orderly. The trouble came only from the hoodlums who broke off from it in droves to commit violence. The responsible men of the labor organizations who were present have called on me to say that they had no idea that the hoodlums would take advantage of the meeting to create disorder."

Several military men followed the mayor with speeches of a fiery nature, and advocated stern measures to subdue the riotous elements. At these outbursts of martial ardor I could see Coleman's mouth tighten imperceptibly into lines of disapproval and determination. At last his growing impatience could be restrained no longer, and he interrupted a resplendent militia colonel who was in full flight of an oration calling for "action at once."

"I understand this subject," said Coleman with decision, "and you don't. This is a matter that should not be discussed too fully or too publicly. But since so much has been said, I will inform you, gentlemen, that you don't know the mine you are standing on. The safety or destruction of the city hangs on a pivot. There must be more spirit shown by the law-abiding elements, or the balance will turn toward destruction. There must be action, not talk. I do not want to accuse anybody of lethargy, but the fact is there are too many men who call for the suppression of disorder, and then go home and leave somebody else to attend to their protection. The men who most deserve protection are those who are ready to take arms in their hands to get it."

"Well, what course would you advise this meeting to take?" asked General McComb.

"Organize at once," said the chairman in vigorous tones. "Appoint a central committee--say of twenty-four. Then open rolls for men to sign, pledging their persons and their money to protect the wives, children and fortunes that are now at the mercy of the mob."

This inspiring counsel brought the assembly to its feet. In a tumult of enthusiasm it was agreed that the chairman should appoint the committee, and that the work of organization should begin at once. It was over in another ten minutes. Coleman named the committee without hesitation, and after it had held a brief session he announced that it had reported in favor of immediate organization, and added:

"You are invited to put your hands to this instrument:

"'We, the undersigned citizens of San Francisco, do hereby enroll ourselves as a General Committee of Safety, subject to the requirements of the Special Committee of Twenty-Four, of which William T. Coleman, Esq., is President, and we do hereby bind ourselves to act with the committee to preserve the peace and well-being of the city with our money and persons.'

"You will be given directions where to assemble, and what duties you are to perform. I hope no able-bodied citizen will fail to give us his services and support."

At a significant gesture from the president, these solid men of the city crowded about the secretary to sign their names, and the Committee of Safety was born.

*CHAPTER XXIV*

*THE JUSTICE OF BIG SAM*

"You seem to have done a good day's work," was Miss Kendrick's comment on my brief account of the commercial struggle, "and you'll make a business man yet if you keep on. I wish you could tell uncle about it, but he's still unconscious." And her lip trembled at the sudden remembrance of Wharton Kendrick's peril, until I thought for the moment that she was going to burst into tears. But she commanded herself, and continued in steady voice: "And now that you've done so well, I'll give one of those reward-of-merit cards you used to get in school. It came this afternoon, and I'm dying to know what's in it." And she brought out a letter addressed in fine Spencerian copperplate script to "Mr. Hampden, the Lawyer of Mr. Kendrick's House on Van Ness Avenue, San Francisco."

I read the address with some wonder, and Laura Kendrick continued:

"Moon Ying says that funny little sign up in the corner is Big Sam's seal; but he surely never wrote that remarkable address. I suppose it is by one of his clerks."

At this, I hastily opened the envelope, and found within a formal note:

Kwan Sam Suey requests the pleasure of Mr. Hampden's company, at his office in Waverly Place, this evening, at as early an hour as convenient.

I passed the note over to Miss Kendrick.

"It looks as though there was going to be a party," she said, "or a supper at the very least. I hope you won't overeat--or worse."

"Big Sam has never suggested such an idea as eating or drinking, though I don't put it beyond him. But he surely hasn't picked out this season of alarms to give a reception. So if you'll excuse me, I'll run down to his place. It may be something important."

"Of course you must go--and you must come back, too. I'm sure I can't sleep till I know what it's about. I shall be up most of the night, and so will Mercy; so you needn't have qualms about ringing the bell, even if you are later than late. There will be somebody to let you in."

"As I'd rather be here than anywhere else, I shan't miss the chance to come back," I said boldly.

She ignored my words, and evaded my devouring glances, and with a sage nod suggested that the sooner I was on my way, the sooner I should have a chance to come back.

As I went down the steps I was stricken with a jealous pang to see Mr. Baldwin coming up with the air of a conquering army. He gave me a cool "Good evening," and then asked, in his most superior manner, if I were on my way to stir my friends to further exertions.

"I have but one object in life," I returned in a confidential tone, "and that is to put your particular friend and client inside four stone walls where he can't do any more harm. And you can tell Mr. Bolton so with my compliments, too."

From his muttered response, I gathered that my reminder of his connection with Peter Bolton did not give him unalloyed pleasure, and pleased with the consciousness that I had given more than I had received in the way of irritation, I went my way to Chinatown.

There were abundant signs of unrest in both the white and the yellow city. Bands of hoodlums still ranged the streets, and fought runaway actions with the police. Householders seemed in fear, and windows that were customarily cheerful with lights now looked with darkened shades upon the streets.

Chinatown was as forbidding as on the night of my last visit, and such lights as were to be seen shone through closed shutters and barred doors. But despite the atmosphere of sullen hostility that lay like a fog upon the district, I made my way without interference to Waverly Place and rapped on Big Sam's door. My name secured prompt admittance. The door was unbarred for a moment for my entrance, and promptly barred once more, and I was led through a crowd of sullen, hostile-faced hatchet-men to Big Sam's reception-hall.

The King of Chinatown sat by his desk in his flowing robes of state, but rose and offered me his hand as I entered.

"I thank you for your prompt attention, Mr. Hampden," he said, motioning me courteously to a high-backed chair at his side. I thought I could detect a trace of worry in his eyes, but his face was as impassive as ever.

"I am flattered to receive your invitation."

"It is not an idle one."

"I should be slow to believe so--especially after the prompt fulfilment of your last prophecy."

"You have the eye of the reader of thoughts," said Big Sam with a faint smile. "You speak of the very point I wish to ask about. I note by the papers that you were attacked--or Mr. Kendrick, to be accurate."

"Oh, I was fortunate enough to share in it," I said nonchalantly.

"Hardly a matter for congratulation, Mr. Hampden. Kindly let me know what happened. Was it by my people, or--"

He paused, and I replied:

"We were attacked in front by the anti-Chinese mob, three hundred or more strong, and in the rear by a score or so of ruffians that I have reason to suppose were hired by your people."

"I should be obliged for your reasons."

"They are at your service." And I gave the accumulated facts from Little John's attempt to drag away the Chinese girl, to Danny Regan's identification by Moon Ying.

As I set forth my tale, a certain fire of rage kindled in Big Sam's face without disturbing the impassivity of his features. He seemed to grow larger, and I could understand how great monarchs cause men to tremble by something more than the physical forces at their command. Some subtle force irradiated from the man, and only a strong will could refuse to yield to the fear that he inspired.

As I ended my tale, he muttered, "The dogs--to violate their word--to cross my orders--to risk everything at this crisis!"

Then he clapped his hands, and two men appeared, and after a few words vanished.

"I hope you will not object if I detain you for a time," said Big Sam, relaxing something of his anger.

"Not at all, if I can be of service."

"You mean that you would not stay as a social diversion," he said with a faint smile. "Well, you can be of service, Mr. Hampden, and permit me in the interval to offer you the hospitalities that should pass between friends." He gave his hands another clap, and in a moment a servant entered bearing a tray with a teapot and cups, and placed it before Big Sam. My host poured the tea as I exclaimed at the beauty of the porcelain in the highly decorated pot and the thin cups.

"I presume you prefer sugar and milk," said Big Sam, hesitating.

If I had possessed an insatiable appetite for these luxuries, the note of scorn in his voice would have forbidden me to confess it. But I had been dealing with Chinese clients long enough, and had drunk tea enough in Chinese fashion, to make it a matter of indifference to me, and I gave him a cheerful negative.

"What an exquisite flavor!" I exclaimed, as I sipped from the dainty cups. "Where do you get such tea?"

"I have it brought over by a special agent. It is not such as you can buy in the stores. That you may realize that you do not see all of China in the externals we present in San Francisco, I will remind you that you consider that you get a very good tea when you pay two dollars a pound for it. It is a good tea. But this that you are drinking costs eighty dollars a pound in China. You see we have a few luxuries--possibly some that you would not recognize. This is the tea of the gods, and I am pleased to see that you do not profane its flavor." The servant had brought in another tray, and Big Sam pressed me to eat of some preserved fish, which he praised more highly than I thought it deserved, and a fowl deliciously cooked with strange seasonings, ending with Chinese sweetmeats and a dash of fine Chinese brandy. I ate without hesitation, for all my suspicion of Chinese dishes, for I could believe that the man who drank tea at eighty dollars a pound would have nothing below the best.

And as we ate, Big Sam questioned me with a devouring curiosity of my views on the relations of China and the United States, on the future of the Orient, on the possible waking of China, on the destiny of the races, on the results of the anti-Chinese agitation; and though he gave little expression to his own views, he let drop many statesmanlike observations that showed how deeply he had thought upon these problems. Then at a sound from without, he had the trays cleared away, and the look of stern anger came back to his face.

"Now, Mr. Hampden, is the time for your assistance," he said. "I did not, as you may assume, invite you here to talk politics. That pleasure might have waited till a less troubled time. Matters of more importance await us. With your kind permission, we shall hold a high court of justice."

I had ceased to be astonished at anything that might happen in Big Sam's apartments. I bowed assent, and at a sharp rap on the desk, a score or more of sullen-faced Chinese entered, and formed in line along the walls. Apparently they bore no arms, but I judged from their expression that they belonged to the notorious hatchet-men, and carried all the paraphernalia of war under their loose blouses. Then entered two men of stern aspect, who walked with an air of command, and after greeting Big Sam they were introduced to me as the presidents of the Sare Bo and the See Yung tongs and were given seats beside us. Then at a curt order from Big Sam, another door opened, and two men entered dragging a protesting prisoner between them.

It was Little John, and by the fear that gleamed in his eyes and set his chin a-tremble, his forecast of the judgment of the high court of justice was most grave. He dropped to his knees, as he was dragged in front of the desk and made to face us, and beat his forehead on the floor with exclamations of protest and appeals for mercy. At a word from Big Sam the guards brought him to his feet, and Big Sam spoke briefly in Chinese. Then he turned to me.

"Is this the man, Mr. Hampden?"

"I have no doubt it is," I responded.

"Please repeat your story to these men," and he indicated the two Chinese presidents who looked with stern, impassive faces upon the trembling wretch before us.

"You will understand that this is not evidence," I said. "It is nothing that could be received in court, as I speak for the most part by hearsay."

"Proceed," said Big Sam. "Our justice is not pinioned in the bonds of your rules of evidence." And I repeated the account of the first visit of Little John, of his attempt to capture Moon Ying, of the assault on the Kendrick house by Danny Regan's ruffians, and Regan's identification by Moon Ying as Little John's expressman. From time to time Big Sam acted as interpreter, though in the main the Chinese appeared to understand me well enough.

The prisoner shook as with an ague at my disclosures, and his coarse goatee fluttered in sympathy with his flying heart. A few questions were put to him, and after admitting that he had visited the Kendrick place, he turned to denial, and became glib in his own defense. Big Sam translated to me in an undertone, and I could feel the anger in his voice rising higher and higher at each prevarication. At last Big Sam sprang to his feet, and pointing at me, thundered a question at Little John.

Little John hesitated, stumbled in his speech, hastily denied his words, then stopped and looked about him with evident realization that he was lost; and with a scream of terror he would have fallen had not the guards caught him and brought him roughly to his feet.

"Mr. Hampden, what shall be done with this man?" asked Big Sam.

"I have a warrant out for his arrest for disturbing the peace. I'm afraid I haven't evidence enough to satisfy our courts on a higher charge."

"Well, this court is satisfied--you believe him guilty, Mr. Hampden?"

"He is certainly guilty of attempted abduction."

He apparently put the same question to the two stern-faced men beside us, and they gave assent in brief phrases.

"The court is unanimous," said Big Sam. "Guilty of attempted abduction, violation of the bargain between the tongs, sacrificing the interests of his race to the interest of his tong by challenging the white vengeance. What should the penalty be, Mr. Hampden?"

"I think in our court he would get two years for the attempted abduction, assuming that he was convicted."

"A mild punishment, Mr. Hampden. I do not wonder that crime flourishes in your country with justice so feeble. But we have no prisons at our command. Death or exile or fine--these are the punishments we can enforce."

I shuddered at his words and tone, but it seemed impossible that we were discussing more than a theoretical case.

"Do you mean to say that our judgment will be carried out?" I cried.

"Certainly. An example is necessary; an offense has been committed; the guilty is before us for sentence."

"I should be satisfied with exile," I said, as Big Sam's eye demanded my choice.

He spoke to the two stern-faced men beside us, and at their answer turned to me.

"All but you, Mr. Hampden, favor death. It is less costly, and more effective."

"But he has not committed a capital offense," I protested.

"It is a capital offense by the laws of his own land. And if he had succeeded in burning Mr. Kendrick's house and killing Mr. Kendrick's family, I understand that it would have been a capital offense, even by the emasculate laws of your country. Is he the less guilty that his accomplices failed in the parts he had arranged for them?"

"Our laws give a lower punishment to the attempt than to the completed offense," I objected.

"Thereby making the suffering of the innocent and not the wickedness of the criminal the measure of guilt," said Big Sam. "It is enough. Let the sentence stand." And with a few words to the men who held the hapless Little John between them, the prisoner was dragged protesting through one of the mysterious doors of Big Sam's apartment, and disappeared at a turn of the labyrinth. Then with ceremonious bows, the stern-faced presidents of the tongs took their leave, and lastly Big Sam's retainers filed out.

"Do you mean that this man is to be killed?" I cried, when the doors had closed behind the departing. "Why, he is not even the principal in the crime. You have told me yourself that he is the representative of the Hop Sing Tong."

"When we can not catch the shark, we catch the pilot-fish," said Big Sam.

"But this is murder."

"Mr. Hampden," said Big Sam calmly, "this has been a very unpleasant affair, but, believe me, necessary. Let us not discuss it further. I have put it from my mind. I advise you to do the same. Do you believe that the organization of the Committee of Safety will have any effect on the troubles in the city?"

"I have every confidence in the man at the head of it. I believe it will be of material assistance in suppressing disorder."

"The revolutionary elements are strong," said Big Sam. "I have information that there is to be an armed outbreak to-morrow night. Will the Committee of Safety have its organization completed in time to check it? After that, it may be too late."

I wondered whether this warning had come from Peter Bolton, but I saw the futility of asking such a question of the man before me. I could merely express the hope that the huge task of enrolling, arming and instructing the men who were flocking to the Committee's leadership would be far enough advanced to make it of service before a serious outbreak occurred.

"If the Committee is overpowered, I presume we shall be left to our own defense," said Big Sam. "Well, we shall try to be ready. Permit me to thank you again for the pleasure of your company; and good night."

The retainers who held Big Sam's store in force looked at me impassively from their slant-eyes as I went out, and they appeared undisturbed at the scene that so many of them had witnessed. But as the door was closed and barred behind me, their voices broke forth in a chatter of singsong tones that revealed the excitement they had repressed to the eye. Big Sam's justice had at least impressed his followers.

Once more in the streets, the scene in Big Sam's hall seemed impossible, far away, of another world. I studied my duties to the laws of my own land, as I made my way through the darkened thoroughfares. Should I interfere, and try to save the life of Little John--even supposing that it was possible to find him in the Chinese labyrinths? Why? Did he not deserve his fate? And as the picture of Laura Kendrick crushed in the burning ruins of her house rose before my mind's eye, I could not deny that the world would be better off without the man who had planned such a deed. And with the conclusion to leave Chinese justice to the Chinese, I made my way back to the Kendrick house.

As I came up the steps, I was struck by the coincidence of meeting Mr. Baldwin coming down, and wished him a polite "Good night." He halted in evident anger, as though my words had been a personal insult. Then with a muttered "Go to the devil!" he strode up the street.

These signs of perturbation upon the cold and unemotional Baldwin were a portent to wonder at, and I suspected that his visit had not been as happy as he considered to be his desert.

Inside the house, I discovered some reflection of the perturbation displayed by the retreating Baldwin. Miss Kendrick's face was flushed, and I thought I discovered traces of tears on her cheeks, and a tendency to hysteric laughter, very foreign to her nature. Miss Fillmore was embracing her with sympathetic attention as I entered.

"Men are such queer creatures," said Miss Kendrick sagely, "and they do make themselves ridiculous when--"

Then catching sight of me she uttered a cry of dismay, and said:

"Why, what is the matter? Is the house in danger again from those shocking hoodlums?" But she recalled herself as soon as she spoke, and said: "Oh, I remember now. I am Miss Scatterbrain to-night. What did Big Sam want?"

"He wished to assure me that there was no further danger from Little John," I returned, with prudent reserve.

She looked at me suspiciously, as though she detected something behind my words.

"Do you believe him?"

"I have no doubt of his good faith."

"Well, that's one relief. But just the same Moon Ying doesn't go outside this house till all the troubles are over."

"Is there any fighting to-night?" asked Mercy anxiously.

"Only a few hoodlums. I think we shall get through the night without serious trouble, and to-morrow the Vigilantes will be organized. Then the city can sleep in peace."

"Well, I hope so," said Laura, and Mercy breathed an assent. "I feel as though I hadn't slept for a week. And now you go and get some sleep yourself, for you're going to have a hard day to-morrow."

Between the recollections of business, of Big Sam's justice, and of Laura Kendrick, sleep was long in coming. Yet of all problems that kept my mind in ferment, the most disturbing was "What happened to Baldwin?" And after arguing myself to the pleasing conclusion that he had, in his most superior manner, put his fate to the test, and had fallen from the full height of his self-esteem to the bottomless pit of rejection, I fell into dreamless slumber.

*CHAPTER XXV*

*FACING A CRISIS*

As I neared the office on the following morning in some depression of spirits at the reports from Wharton Kendrick's bedside, I heard my name called, and turned to find Parks signaling me. His face was alight with self-importance, his hair stood out with electric aggressiveness, and he seemed to tremble with superfluous energy, like a superheated boiler.

"You should have stayed to the rest of our meeting on last Monday night," he said abruptly. "We succeeded in strengthening our cause among the working-people, even though the misguided violence of a few young men interfered with our plans for freeing the people from their oppressors."

"I had other business than listening to speeches."

"Sir," he cried, "you do wrong to speak with contempt of those appeals that rouse men to a knowledge of their rights and their powers. I want you to be with us again to-night. We are to hold another meeting on the New City Hall lots, as you will see by this circular." And he waved a number of sheets that called upon all men to "Rally, Rally!" at the "Great Anti-Coolie Mass Meeting" at eight o'clock.

"Another meeting!" I exclaimed. "You are very indiscreet to hold it at this time."