upon him in the hot daylight, your father believed that he saw a wild and
gathering repulsion. So he kept near them.

"The train was late, having waited at Colfax two hours for the Eastern
Overland, else they would have been left, those two, and your father--but
such is fate!

"It was ten o'clock when they reached Oakland. He lost the pair for a
moment in the crowd going aboard the boat, but saw the girl again far
forward, standing alone by the rail. He strolled across the deck, not
appearing to have seen her. She moved a trifle nearer; with her eyes on the
water, speaking low as if to herself, she said:--

"'I am in great danger. Will you help me? If you will, listen, but do
not speak or come any nearer. Be first, if you can, to go ashore; have
a carriage ready, and wait until you see me. There will be a moment,
perhaps--only a moment. Do not lose it. You understand? _He_, too, will
have to get a carriage. When he comes for me I shall be gone. Tell the
driver to take me to--' she gave the number of a well-known residence on
Van Ness Avenue.

"He looked at her then, and said quietly, 'The Benedet house is closed for
the summer.'

"She hung her head at the name. 'Promise me your silence!' she implored in
the same low, careful voice.

"'I will protect you in every way consistent with common sense,' your
father answered, 'but I make no promises.'