Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Tiffany Vergon, Joshua Hutchinson, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team BLINDFOLDED By Earle Ashley Walcott CONTENTS CHAPTER I A DANGEROUS ERRAND II A CRY FOR HELP III A QUESTION IN THE NIGHT IV A CHANGE OF NAME V DODDRIDGE KNAPP VI A NIGHT AT BORTON'S VII MOTHER BORTON VIII IN WHICH I MEET A FEW SURPRISES IX A DAY IN THE MARKET X A TANGLE OF SCHEMES XI THE DEN OF THE WOLF XII LUELLA KNAPP XIII A DAY OF GRACE XIV MOTHER BORTON'S ADVICE XV I AM IN THE TOILS XVI AN ECHO OF WARNING XVII IN A FOREIGN LAND XVIII THE BATTLE IN THE MAZE XIX A DEAL IN STOCKS XX MAKING PROGRESS XXI AT THE BIDDING OF THE UNKNOWN XXII TRAILED XXIII A PIECE OF STRATEGY XXIV ON THE ROAD XXV A FLUTTER IN THE MARKET XXVI A VISION OF THE NIGHT XXVII A LINK IN THE CHAIN XXVIII THE CHASE IN THE STORM XXIX THE HEART OF THE MYSTERY XXX THE END OF THE JOURNEY XXXI THE REWARD BLINDFOLDED CHAPTER I A DANGEROUS ERRAND A city of hills with a fringe of houses crowning the lower heights; half-mountains rising bare in the background and becoming real mountains as they stretched away in the distance to right and left; a confused mass of buildings coming to the water's edge on the flat; a forest of masts, ships swinging in the stream, and the streaked, yellow, gray-green water of the bay taking a cold light from the setting sun as it struggled through the wisps of fog that fluttered above the serrated sky-line of the city--these were my first impressions of San Francisco. The wind blew fresh and chill from the west with the damp and salt of the Pacific heavy upon it, as I breasted it from the forward deck of the ferry steamer, _El Capitan_. As I drank in the air and was silent with admiration of the beautiful panorama that was spread before me, my companion touched me on the arm. “Come into the cabin,” he said. “You'll be one of those fellows who can't come to San Francisco without catching his death of cold, and then lays it on to the climate instead of his own lack of common sense. Come, I can't spare you, now I've got you here at last. I wouldn't lose you for a million dollars.” “I'll come for half the money,” I returned, as he took me by the arm and led me into the close cabin. My companion, I should explain, was Henry Wilton, the son of my father's cousin, who had the advantages of a few years of residence in California, and sported all the airs of a pioneer. We had been close friends through boyhood and youth, and it was on his offer of employment that I had come to the city by the Golden Gate. “What a resemblance!” I heard a woman exclaim, as we entered the cabin. “They must be twins.”