Keith was aghast. He knew the old man's resolution. His face showed that he was not to be moved from it. Keith began to argue with him. They did not do things that way in New York, he said. The police would arrest him. Or if he should shoot a man he would be tried, and it would go hard with him. He had better give up his pistol. "Let me keep it for you," he urged. The old man took up the pistol and felt for his pocket. "I'll find her or I'll kill him," he said stolidly. "I have come to do one or the other. If I do that, I don't much keer what they do with me. But I reckon some of 'em would take the side of a woman what's been treated so. Well, I'll go on an' wait for him. How do you find this here place?" He took out a piece of paper and, carefully adjusting his spectacles, read a number. It was the number of Wickersham's office. Keith began to argue again; but the other's face was set like a rock. He simply put up his pistol carefully. "I'll kill him if I don't find her. Well, I reckon somebody will show me the way. Good day." He went out. The moment his footsteps had died away, Keith seized his hat and dashed out. The bulky figure was going slowly down the street, and Keith saw him stop a man and show him his bit of paper. Keith crossed the street and hurried on ahead of him. Wickersham's office was only a few blocks away, and a minute later Keith rushed into the front office. The clerks hooked up in surprise at his haste. Keith demanded of one of them if Mr. Wickersham was in. The clerk addressed turned and looked at another man nearer the door of the private office, who shook his head warningly. No, Mr. Wickersham was not in. Keith, however, had seen the signal, and he walked boldly up to the door of the private office. "Mr. Wickersham is in, but he is engaged," said the man, rising hastily. "I must see him immediately," said Keith, and opening the door, walked straight in. Wickersham was sitting at his desk poring over a ledger, and at the sudden entrance he looked up, startled. When he saw who it was he sprang to his feet, his face changing slightly. Just then one of the clerks followed Keith. As Keith, however, spoke quietly, Wickersham's expression changed, and the next second he had recovered his composure and with it his insolence. "To what do I owe the honor of this unexpected visit?" he demanded, with a curl of his lip. Keith gave a little wave of his arm, as if he would sweep away his insolence. "I have come to warn you that old Adam Rawson is in town hunting you." Wickersham's self-contained face paled suddenly, and he stepped a little back. Then his eye fell on the clerk, who stood just inside the door. "What do you want?" he demanded angrily. "---- you! can't you keep out when a gentleman wants to see me on private business?" The clerk hastily withdrew. "What does he want?" he asked of Keith, with a dry voice. "He is hunting for you. He wants to find his granddaughter, and he is coming after you."