day.”

A few minutes walk brought them to the hotel, where, on inquiry, they learned that the Senor had been stopping there, but that he had gone away that morning.

“No, he did not say where he was going,” the clerk informed them. “He went away on horseback and his man on another mount.”

“Then he will probably return to-day?” suggested Jim.

“Who knows?” the clerk answered with a shrug of his shoulders. “No, he did not say where he was going or when he would be back. No, he hasn’t given up his room. If it is anything of importance about which you wish to see the Senor, you might interview his lawyer, Mr. Reynolds at No. 10 Court street, who, perhaps might know where he has gone.”

“Were they his own horses?” went on Jim.

“Couldn’t say,” replied the clerk. “Perhaps the porter can tell you. He went for the horses, I believe. Here, Pedro,” calling the porter, who was standing nearby, “you got the horses for the Senor this morning, didn’t you?”

“Si, Senor,” answered the porter, a swarthy Mexican.

“Where did they come from?” asked Jim.

“From Ross and McLanes,” replied the porter. “The Senor told me to tell them to send around the best horses they had in the stable, no matter what they cost. They were mucho hermosa, very handsome. He paid for them right down. Never questioned the price.”

“Sorry I can’t give you more information,” added the clerk, “but I think if you want to find the Senor, you had better see Mr. Reynolds.”

“Thank you,” replied Jim. “We will go there.”

“Hem!” commented Berwick when they were on the street again. “We didn’t find out very much.”

“I don’t know,” answered Jim. “At least we have found that he has heard from Broome.”

“How do you make that out?”

“He went away unexpectedly or he would have made more preparation, and he left no word where he was going or when he would be back, which shows that he was going on some secret mission.”

“You are probably right,” admitted Berwick, after a moment’s thought. “We won’t be able to get any information from him.”

“But we may get something from his lawyer,” replied Jim cheerfully. “He probably knows where he has gone.”

“What shall we do to get there, walk or ride?”

“Better ride, I think,” said Jim, hailing a cab. “We haven’t any time to lose.”

It was only a short distance, and in less than fifteen minutes they were in the office of Mr. William Howard Reynolds, who was better known to the shady side of San Francisco than he was to the reputable inhabitants of the town. The office was in an old, rather dilapidated building, not far from the city hall.

“Mr. Reynolds is in,” so the clerk in charge of the outer office informed them, “but is particularly engaged at this time. If the gentlemen will be seated, I will learn if Mr. Reynolds will see them.”

Going into an inner office, he returned a moment later to say that Mr. Reynolds was very busy, and that he would not be able to give them any time unless their business with him was of importance.

“Tell him,” directed Jim, “that I wish to see him on a matter of much importance to Senor de Cordova.”

The clerk, a man of about forty, with an expressionless face, except for a cunning twinkle about the eyes, took the card Jim handed him, and again disappeared into the inner room.

At this moment Jim, who was standing by the windows looking upon the street, happened to glance down and caught a glimpse of the familiar figure of Captain Broome, who had apparently just emerged from the building.

“I wonder what he was doing here,” muttered Jim to himself.

“Who? What?” asked Berwick.

“Sh!” whispered Jim, “I will tell you later.”

“Mr. Reynolds will see you for a few minutes,” announced the clerk, holding open the door to the inner office for them to pass through.

CHAPTER III.

PICKING UP THE ENDS.

The room which Jim and the chief engineer entered was furnished in marked contrast to the outer room, which was plainly, even meagerly equipped with a few chairs and a table or two and a desk. The inner room was luxuriously and lavishly fitted up with a handsome mahogany desk, easy chairs, fine paintings upon the walls and costly rugs upon the floor.

Motioning to them to be seated with a sweep of his hand, upon which glittered a serpent ring of peculiar design with ruby eyes which seemed to glow as if alive, the lawyer eyed them coldly for a moment through half closed eyes.

“You wished to see me upon business connected with the Senor de Cordova,” he said, without any preliminary greeting.

“Yes,” replied Jim quietly, “I have been referred to you as being in charge of his affairs.”

“By whom?”

“The clerk at the Palace Hotel.”

“Ah, indeed. What is the nature of your business with him?”

“That I will communicate with him personally,” answered Jim, who had conceived an instant distrust of the man. “What I wish to know is his present address.”

The lawyer leaned back in his chair and softly whistled for a moment with a sort of hissing sound.

“He’s concocting some sort of a scheme now,” thought Jim, who was regarding him critically.

“I cannot inform you of his exact whereabouts,” remarked the lawyer, “but he is somewhere in the northern part of the State. He was called away on some important business.”

“Was it in connection with the abduction of his daughter?” asked Jim, rising to his feet and standing beside the desk looking directly into the eyes of the lawyer.

“Eh, what is that?” asked the lawyer, hastily shuffling the papers on his desk, but not before Jim had caught sight of the words “San Mat—” in a familiar handwriting.

“I said, has his journey any connection with the abduction of his daughter?” repeated Jim.

“What do you know about the abduction of the Senorita de Cordova?” asked the lawyer, sharply. “Perhaps you had something to do with it.”

“I haven’t anything to do with it,” answered Jim, “but I know who did, and I know where the Senorita is.”

“Indeed, you seem to think, young man, that you know a good deal. Suppose I were to put the matter in the hands of the police?”

“Just as you like,” responded Jim, “there is my address if you want me. You can find me there any time. I think,” turning to Berwick, “there is nothing more to be gained here.”

“There doesn’t seem to be,” replied Berwick.

“Then don’t waste any more of my time,” said the lawyer sharply. “Wickham,” to the clerk, “you can show these gentlemen,” with a sneering emphasis on “the gentlemen,” “out.”

Thus curtly dismissed, Jim and his companion made their way to the street.

As soon as they had gone, the lawyer hastily wrote upon a sheet of paper:

“Look out for a young fool who calls himself James Darlington, and knows more than is good for him,” to which he added the initials W. H. R. and calling Wickham into the room gave it to him with orders to see that it be delivered at the address given, where it would come into the hands of Captain Broome at once.

This done, Mr. Reynolds leaned back in his chair, and began whistling softly.