The Cover of Darkness

"Can I be of service?"

"Oh, I hardly know; I scarcely seem able to think. Could--could you
leave here for just ten minutes--long enough to go to the dance hall at
the Gayety?"

"Sure thing; there 's nothin' doin'."

"Then please go; find a big, red-headed miner there named
Brown--'Stutter' Brown they call him--and bring him back here to me.
If--if he is n't there any longer, then get Mercedes, the Mexican
dancer. You know her, don't you?"

The clerk nodded, reaching for his hat.

"Get one of those two; oh, you must get one of them. Tell them I say
it is most important."

There was a terrible earnestness about the girl's words and manner,
which instantly impressed the lad with the necessity for immediate
haste. He was off at a run, slamming the door heavily behind him, and
plunging headlong into the black street. As he disappeared, Miss
Norvell sank back into the vacated chair, and sat there breathing
heavily, her eyes fastened upon the drunken man opposite, her natural
coolness and resource slowly emerging from out the haze of
disappointment. Brown could surely be trusted in this emergency, for
his interest was only second to her own. But why had she not told him
the entire story before? Why, when she had opportunity, did she fail
to reveal to him Farnham's threats, and warn him against impending
danger? She realized fully now the possible injury wrought by her
secrecy. She felt far too nervous, too intensely anxious, to remain
long quiet; her eyes caught the ticking timepiece hanging above the
clerk's desk, and noted the hour with a start of surprise. It was
already after two. Once, twice, thrice she paced across the floor of
the office and stood for a moment striving to peer through the dirty
window-glass into the blackness without, faintly splotched with gleams
of yellow light. Finally, she flung back the door and ventured forth
upon the shadowed porch, standing behind the low railing, where those
passing below were little likely to notice her presence. Her head
throbbed and ached, and she loosened her heavy hair, pressing her palms
to the temples. The boy returned at last hurriedly, bare-headed, but
unaccompanied, and she met him at the top of the steps, realizing, even
before he spoke, that those she sought had not been found.