Broderick caught his breath. Involuntarily his eyes strayed toward Benito. But the latter was so patently absorbed in sunset splendors that Broderick sighed as if relieved. It seemed as though some holy thing had passed between him and this woman. In her look, her simple question lay a shadowy, half-spoken answer to his heart's unuttered prayer. For a moment the world seemed aglow with some strange, quiet glory. Then he said, quite calmly: "I? Oh, yes, I'm safe enough." * * * * * Saturday passed without much change in King's condition. He was sinking slowly, despite his rugged strength, his will to live and the unceasing efforts of the city's best physicians. The Law and Order Party was being organized out of various elements that viewed alarmedly the Vigilantes' growing power. Religious, political, social elements combined in this new faction. In it were men of note, distinction, undisputed honor; and rascals of the worst degree. Ned McGowan, it was rumored, had gone into hiding. Broderick kept to himself and took no sides, yet. Many sought him for support and for advice, but he repulsed them tactfully, remaining in his room to read; walking silently about at twilight. He had a way of standing on a hilltop, losing count of minutes, even hours. Thus Adrian surprised him one evening gazing down on San Francisco's winking street lamps as the night came down. "Hello, Dave," he said, "why so pensive?" Quietly as he spoke the other started. "I was wondering about tomorrow...." "Why tomorrow?" Broderick looked around to satisfy himself that there was no one else to hear. "Coleman will withdraw his Vigilante guard from the jail on Sunday morning.... Oh, yes," he added, as the other seemed surprised, "I have my agents in the Committee's camp. Not to harm them. I don't hold with spies and treachery.... But I have to keep informed." Adrian looked at his friend, astonished. This was news to him. Broderick went on: "The Governor's indirectly forced their hand. Coleman knows that violent forces are at work to overthrow his Vigilantes; that the Governor's aiding them. So he's decided to strike." "Tomorrow, eh!" said Adrian thoughtfully. "That means bloodshed, probably." Broderick turned a gloomy countenance toward him. "I don't know," he answered, and resumed his gazing. Adrian went on. He looked back after he had gone a hundred yards. The other man remained there, immobile and silent as a statue. Governor J. Neely Johnson paced up and down the confines of his suite at the International Hotel. In a chair sprawled Mayor Van Ness, his fingers opening and shutting spasmodically upon the leather upholstery. Volney Howard leaned in a swaggering posture against the mantelpiece, smoking a big cigar and turning at intervals to expectorate out of one corner of his mouth. "Well," said Howard, "the President's turned us down. We get no Federal aid, I understand. What next?"