Blindfolded | Page 4

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 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 door, 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.
CHAPTER II
A CRY FOR HELP
I hastily closed and locked the door. It shut out at least the eyes and
ears that, to my excited imagination, lurked in the dark corners and
half-hidden doorways of the dimly-lighted hall. And as I turned back to
the room my heart was heavy with bitter regret that I had ever left my
home.
This was not at all what I had looked for when I started for the Golden
Gate at my friend's offer of a "good place and a chance to get rich."
Then I rallied my spirits with something of resolution, and shamed
myself with the reproach that I should fear to share any danger that
Henry was ready to face. Wearied as I was with travel, I was too much
excited for sleep. Reading was equally impossible. I scarcely glanced at
the shelf of books that hung on the wall, and turned to a study of my
surroundings.
The room was on the corner, as I have said, and I threw up the sash of
the west window and looked out over a tangle of old buildings,
ramshackle sheds, and an alley that appeared to lead nowhere. A
wooden shutter swung from the frame-post of the window, reaching
nearly to a crazy wooden stair that led from the black depths below.

There were lights here and there in the back rooms. Snatches of
drunken song and rude jest came up from an unseen doggery, and vile
odors came with them. Shadows seemed to move here and there among
the dark places, but in the uncertain light I could not be sure whether
they were men, or only boxes and barrels.
Some sound of a drunken quarrel drew my attention to the north
window, and I looked out into the alley. The lights from Montgomery
Street scarcely gave shape to the gloom below the window, but I could
distinguish three or four men near the side entrance of a saloon. They
appeared quiet enough. The quarrel, if any there was, must be inside the
saloon. After an interval of comparative silence, the noise rose again.
There were shouts and curses, sounds as of a chair broken and tables
upset, and one protesting, struggling inebriate was hurled out from the
front door and left, with threats and foul language, to collect himself
from the pavement.
This edifying incident, which was explained to me solely by sound, had
scarcely come to an end when a noise of creaking boards drew my eyes
to the other window. The shutter suddenly flew around, and a human
figure swung in at the open casing. Astonishment at this singular
proceeding did not dull the instinct of self-defense. The survey of my
surroundings and the incident of the bar-room row had in a measure
prepared me for any desperate doings, and I had swung a chair ready to
strike a blow before I had time to think.
"S-h-h!" came the warning whisper, and I recognized my supposed
robber. It was Henry.
His clothes and hair were disordered, and his face and hands were
grimy with dust.
"Don't speak out loud," he said in suppressed tones. "Wait till I fasten
this shutter. The other one's gone, but nobody can get in from that side
unless they can shin up thirty feet of brick wall."
"Shall I shut the window?" I asked, thoroughly impressed by his
manner.

"No, you'll make too much noise," he said, stripping off his coat and
vest. "Here, change clothes with me. Quick! It's a case of life and death.
I must be out of here in two minutes. Do as I say, now. Don't ask
questions. I'll tell you about it in a day or two. No, just the coat and vest.
There--give me that collar and tie. Where's your hat?"
The changes were completed, or rather his were, and he stood looking
as much like me as could be imagined.
"Don't stir from this room till I come back," he whispered. "You can
dress in anything of mine you like. I'll be in before twelve, or send a
messenger if I'm not coming. By-by."
He was gone before I could say a word, and only an