I got the money next day; I took it myself from the bank. Also I got my revolver and spent the evening in the city. About half an hour before ten, I went to our offices and roused the watchman to let me in. I pretended to work for a while and then let myself out the river door and started down the black, narrow walk above the water. No one was anywhere about at that hour; not a window in the walls on either side was alight. Ships slid in and out; one minute deckhands, sailors and mates on watch would glide by within ten feet of me; the next I was alone with black, locked doors on one side, the water on the other. I heard my name whispered in Jerry’s voice. “You’ve got it?” the voice said; and some one was beside me. This was Jerry of the Mackinaw coat, of the basement room and of the companionship of Christina. If he were Keeban, I must hold him; I must not question nor show doubt. If he were Jerry, I had nothing to do. “Here I am, Jerry,” I said. “Give it to me.” I kept him walking beside me until the faint light, which trickled down over the bridge at the end of the block, showed me his face, Jerry’s face; but, for all of that, also Keeban’s. “Satisfied now?” he asked me, laughing. “Come, Steve!” And he put his hand on my wrist. I drew back, thinking that, if he were Keeban, he’d murder me for ten thousand dollars if, for her necklace, he attacked Dorothy Crewe. I had my hand on my revolver, yet he had the advantage of me, for he could strike without warning and I must wait to see what he meant to do. Down the river, a steamer blew for bridges; and, “Come now!” he said again to me. Then some one else was there; some one else of his sort and burly in a Mackinaw coat; and my wrist was my own; no one had hold of me. They were grappled together and together went down. “Stay out of this, Steve!” Jerry’s voice said to me; and some one choked; some one gasped for breath. I bent over them and in that trickle of light from the bridge, I saw a face--one face, Jerry’s. I could not see the other. Then they turned; the one on top was on the bottom but they were over again before I could see. There was Jerry’s face once more. “Stay out, Steve!” They were throttling each other as they rolled; they came to the edge of the water and I pulled them back, hauling on one and dragging the two. A light was coming; soon I would see; for the boat, which had been blowing for the bridges, was slipping up. I looked about to it; and something happened; a splash below me. One of the two was gone; the other, gasping, stood on the edge of the timbers, staring down and moving along this way and that while he watched. I had my gun out now and shoved it against him. “Steve, you old fool,” he cried. “He broke my hold; he’s in the water! Watch; where is he?” “You tell me this,” I came back at him. “What was the book we kept first in the case at the edge of your bed? What were you always reading? Damn you, tell me quick!”