And then came the end. A message; abrupt and sudden. It was some
time after and put a period to my increasing stress and worry. It
read:

CITY OF PERU DOCKS TONIGHT AT EIGHT. MEET ME AT THE PIER. HOBART
COMING,--HARRY.

It was a short message and a bit twisted. In ordinary
circumstances he would have motored down and brought me back to
greet Hobart. It was a bit strange that I should meet him at the
pier. However, I had barely time to get to the city if I hurried.

I shall never forget that night.

It was dark when I reached San Francisco. I was a full twenty
minutes early at the pier. A few people were waiting. I looked
about for Harry. He was to meet me and I was certain that I would
find him. But he was not there. Of course there was still time. He
was sure to be on hand to greet Hobart.

Nevertheless, I had a vague mistrust. Since that strange visit I
had not been sure. Harry wasn't well. There was something to this
mystery that he had not told me. Why had he asked me to meet him
at the pier? Why didn't he come? When the boat docked and he was
still missing I was doubly worried.

Hobart came down the gangplank. He was great, strong, healthy, and
it seemed to me in a terrible hurry. He scanned the faces
hurriedly and ran over to me.