"No; Tim isn't quite so bad. He isn't the worst man alive, though he
is a rather hard customer. It was his wanting me to enter a house on
Madison Avenue and open a desk that led to me going on this trip."

"Tell me about it, if you don't mind."

Thus invited, Dodger told his story to Randolph Leslie, keeping
nothing back.

He finished by showing him the letter he had found in the valise.




Chapter XXIII.
Through The Golden Gate.


"Well, this is certainly a remarkable letter," said the reporter, as
he handed it back to Dodger. "I am at a loss to understand the
interest which this man appears to feel in you."

"I look upon him as my enemy," said Dodger. "But an enemy doesn't
spend so much money upon another as he has."

"Unless he has object in it," amended Leslie, shrewdly. "Do you know
of any connection this man has with you?"

"No; I never heard of him until I entered his house," and Dodger
flushed as he thought that his entrance into the mansion on Madison