of glass, and unwrapped the paper. The sheet bore only the words:

"At Borton's, at midnight. Richmond."

This was the name of the agent of the Unknown, who had sent the other
note. Dicky and his companion must then be protectors instead of
enemies. I hastened to unlock the door, and in walked my two visitors.

The first was a young man, tall, well-made, with a shrewd, good-humored
countenance, and a ready, confident air about him. I had no trouble in
picking him out as the amused Dicky. The other was a black-bearded
giant, who followed stolidly in the wake of the younger man.

"You've led me a pretty chase," said Dicky. "If it hadn't been for Pork
Chops here, I shouldn't have found you till the cows come home."

"Well, what's up now?" I asked.

"Why, you ought to know," said Dicky with evident surprise. "But you'd
better be hurrying down to Borton's. The gang must be there by now."

I could only wonder who Borton might be, and where his place was, and
what connection he might have with the mystery, as Dicky took me by the
arm and hurried me out into the darkness. The chill night air served to
nerve instead of depress my spirits, as the garrulous Dicky
unconsciously guided me to the meeting-place, joyously narrating some
amusing adventure of the day, while the heavy retainer stalked in
silence behind.

Down near the foot of Jackson Street, where the smell of bilge-water