CHAPTER XX

A CALL IN THE NIGHT

There was no answer. For a second time Adrian's mind fought a belief that sense had tricked him. Now and then a shout from the bar-room reached him as he waited, listening. The wind whistled eerily through the scant-leaved scrub-oaks on the slopes above.

But from the room at the window of which he listened there came no sound.

Adrian felt like one hoaxed, made ridiculous by his own sentimentality. He strode on. But when he reached the farther corner some involuntary impulse turned him back. And again the sound of muffled sobbing came to him from the open window--fainter now, as though an effort had been made to stifle it.

Once more he spoke: "I say, what's the trouble in there? Can I help?"

Almost instantly a face appeared against the pane--a tear-stained face, terrified and shrinking.

"Oh!" said a voice unsteady with weeping. "Oh! sir, if there is a heart in your breast you will help me to escape--to find my father."

Her tone, despite agitation, was that of extreme youth. She was not of the class that frequent gambling halls. Both her dress and her manner proclaimed that. Adrian was perplexed. "Are you--" he hesitated, fearing to impart offense, "are you the girl who came with McTurpin?"

"Yes, yes," she spoke hurriedly. "He told me my father was ill. He promised to take me to him. Instead, he locked me in this room. He threatened--oh! he is a monster! Will you help me? Do you know my father, sir?"

"What is his name?" asked Stanley.

"Burthen, sir, James Burthen," she replied, and fell once more to sobbing helplessly. "Oh, if I were only out of here."

Stanley pressed his weight against the door. He was thinking rapidly. So this was the daughter of Benito's partner--the murdered miner of the Eldorado tragedy. He recalled the letter from Colton; the hint of McTurpin's infatuation and its menace. Things became clear to him suddenly. The door gave as he pressed his knee against it. Presently the flimsy lock capitulated and he walked into the room. The girl shrank back against the farther wall at his approach.

"Oh, come," he said, a trifle testily, "I'm not going to hurt you. Get on your hat. I'll see you're taken care of. I'll place you in charge of my wife."

"And my father," she begged. "You'll take me to him?"

"Yes, yes, your father," he agreed in haste. "But first you'll come home with me."

She snatched up a hat and shawl from the commode, and, with hurried movements rearranged her hair; then she followed him submissively into the gathering dusk, shrinking close as if to efface herself whenever they passed anyone. The streets were full of men now, mostly bound from hotels, lodging houses and tents to the Eldorado and kindred resorts. Many of them ogled her curiously, for a female figure was a rarity in nocturnal San Francisco.

They passed dimly lighted tents in which dark figures bulked grotesquely against canvas walls. In one a man seemed to be dancing with a large animal which Stanley told her was a grizzly bear.

"They have many queer pets," he said. "One of my neighbors keeps a pet coon, and in another tent there are a bay horse, two dogs, two sheep and a pair of goats. They sleep with their master like a happy family."

"It is all so strange," said the girl, faintly. "In the East my father was a lawyer; we had a good house and a carriage; everything was so different from--this. But after my mother died, he grew restless. He sold everything and came to this rough, wild country. None of his old friends would know him now, with his beard, his boots and the horrible red flannel shirt."

Adrian made no reply. He was thinking of the tragic news which must ere long be told to Burthen's daughter. For a time they strode along in silence--until Stanley paused before an open door. Against the inner light which streamed through it into the darkness of the street a woman's figure was outlined.

"Well, here we are, at last," said Adrian. "And my wife's in the doorway waiting to scold me for being so late."

Inez ran to meet him. "I have been anxious," she declared. She noted her husband's companion, and stepped back, startled. "Adrian, who is this?"

"A daughter of the mur----" Adrian began. He broke the telltale word in two: "Of James Burthen--Benito's partner."

"Ah, then you know my brother," Inez hailed her eagerly. She took the girl's hands in her own and pressed them. "You must tell us all about him--quickly. We have waited long for news."

"You are--Mr. Windham's sister?" cried the girl almost incredulously. Then, with a swift abandonment to emotion she threw her arms about the elder woman's neck and sobbed.

Stanley followed them into the house. He saw Inez supporting her companion, soothing her in those mysterious ways which only women know. His mind was stirred with grave perplexities.

A peremptory knock aroused him from his cogitations. Could it be the gambler so soon? He thought there were voices. Several men, no doubt.

Inez called out in a whisper, "Who is there?"

"Go back," her husband ordered. "It's all right, dear. They're friends of mine."

Inez came out quickly and stood beside him, looking up into his face. "You're sure? There's no--no danger?"

Again the rat-tat-tat upon the panel, more peremptory than before. Stanley forced a laugh. "Danger! Why, of course not. Just a business talk. But go back and look after the girl. I don't want her coming out here while I've visitors." He patted her hand. His arm about her shoulder he ushered her across the threshold of the inner chamber and closed the door. Then he extinguished the lamp. Hand on pistol he felt his way toward the outer portal and, with a sudden movement flung it wide. Three men stood on the threshold. They seemed puzzled by the darkness. Out of it the host's voice spoke: "Who are you? What do you wish?"

William Henry Brown was first to answer him. "We want you, Adrian, at the hotel. Can you come now--quickly?"

"What for?" he asked suspiciously. "Who sent you here?"

"Nobody," came the cheery voice of Dr. Jones. "There's a friend of yours at Brown's who needs you."

"You mean--McTurpin?

"Damn McTurpin!" spoke the third voice. It was Nathan Spear's. "Light your lamp. Nobody's going to shoot you, Stanley.... It's young Benito from the mines and down with fever. He's calling for you ... and for a girl named Alice.... If you can pacify him--that will help a lot. He's pretty low."

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