late at night when I saw my last customer at his hotel, and I had a
valise half-full of silver currency and bills. Going back along the
waterfront where the second-rate saloons are, I thought that somebody
was following me. The lights didn't run far along the street, I hadn't
seen a patrol, and as I was passing a dark block a man jumped out. I
got a blow on the shoulder that made me sore for a week, but the fellow
had missed my head with the sandbag, and I slipped behind a telegraph
post before he could strike again. Still, things looked ugly. The man
who'd been following came into sight, and I was between the two. Then
Blake ran up the street--and I was mighty glad to see him. He had two
men to tackle, and one had a sandbag, while I guess the other had a
pistol."

"But you were there. That made it equal."

"Oh, no; I'd been nearly knocked out with the sandbag and could hardly
keep my feet. Besides, I had my employers' money in the valise, and it
was my business to take care of it."

Mrs. Keith made a sign of agreement.

"I beg your pardon. You were right."

"Blake got after the first thief like a panther. He was so quick I
didn't quite see what happened, but the man reeled half-way across the
street before he fell, and when his partner saw Blake coming for him he
ran. Then, when the trouble was over, a policeman came along, and he
and Blake helped me back to my hotel. Knowing I had the money, he'd
got uneasy when I was late." Harding paused and looked meaningly at
his companion. "Later I was asked to believe that the man who went for