The “loot” was in a brass-bound chest under one of the cabin's bunks, stowed in two gunny-bags. Hoang drew them out, knotted the two together, and, slinging them over his shoulder, regained the deck. He looked carefully at the angry sky and swelling seas, noting the direction of the wind and set of the tide; then went forward and cast the anchor-chains from the windlass in such a manner that the schooner must inevitably wrench free with the first heavy strain. The dory was still tugging at the line astern. Hoang dropped the sacks in the boat, swung himself over the side, and rowed calmly toward the station's wharf. If any notion of putting to sea with the schooner had entered the obscure, perverted cunning of his mind, he had almost instantly rejected it. Chinatown was his aim; once there and under the protection of his Tong, Hoang knew that he was safe. He knew the hiding-places that the See Yup Association provided for its members--hiding places whose very existence was unknown to the police of the White Devil. No one interrupted--no one even noticed--his passage to the station. At best, it was nothing more than a coolie carrying a couple of gunny-sacks across his shoulder. Two hours later, Hoang was lost in San Francisco's Chinatown. ***** At the sight of the schooner sweeping out to sea, Wilbur was for an instant smitten rigid. What had happened? Where was Moran? Why was there nobody on board? A swift, sharp sense of some unnamed calamity leaped suddenly at his throat. Then he was aware of a crattering of hoofs along the road that led to the fort. Hodgson threw himself from one of the horses that were used in handling the surf-boat, and ran to him hatless and panting. “My God!” he shouted. “Look, your schooner, do you see her? She broke away after I'd started to tell you--to tell you--to tell you--your girl there on board--It was horrible!” “Is she all right?” cried Wilbur, at top voice, for the clamor of the gale was increasing every second. “All right! No; they've killed her--somebody--the coolies, I think--knifed her! I went out to ask you people to come into the station to have supper with me--” “Killed her--killed her! Who? I don't believe you--” “Wait--to have supper with me, and I found her there on the cabin floor. She was still breathing. I carried her up on deck--there was nobody else aboard. I carried her up and laid her on the deck--and she died there. Just now I came after you to tell you, and--” “Good God Almighty, man! who killed her? Where is she? Oh--but of course it isn't true! How did you know? Moran killed! Moran killed!” “And the schooner broke away after I started!” “Moran killed! But--but--she's not dead yet; we'll have to see--” “She died on the deck; I brought her up and laid her on--” “How do you know she's dead? Where is she? Come on, we'll go right back to her--to the station!” “She's on board--out there!” “Where--where is she? My God, man, tell me where she is!”