would vote for him and he lost his election." Now, the true story of
Rattlesnake Dick is this, and I never tire of hearing it:

"Would you present me to your sister's friend, then, George?"

"Why not."

"I am an Ishmailite! I, the son of an honorable English gentleman, have
done a term in prison."

"But these ideas are extreme, Dick. There is no such general opinion of
you. Were you not exonerated from having stolen the wretched little
Jew's goods? It is all forgotten," and George Taylor paused in his
restless pacing, before the long, graceful figure on the bunk against
the wall. Dick raised handsome eyes whose flashing light was made of
pain.

"George, I wish - how I wish that it were forgotten. But it is not. They
whisper it in doorways, and over the card tables and down in the drift
tunnels. Wherever I go it follows me like an evil spirit, rearing its
unclean head between me and all fair things." His deep voice reflected
the hurt in his dark eyes, and his broad shoulders drooped in
despondency.

"Dick - Dick, the gay the debonair - this is not like you. Brace up,
man, and come with me to this opening of the new opera house, if only to
add to my pleasure. All the town will be there to hear the singer who
has just landed in San Francisco from Boston."

"She it was who brought you the letter from your sister?"