He put a hand kindly on the crestfallen young man's shoulder.... "Go back tomorrow and see if he'll make you secretary to the Mayor. Then get all the 'extras' you can. Label each and bring it to me. I'll see that you're not misunderstood." He rose. "But I fear Buckley will withdraw his offer ... if so, we'll print the story of his Platt's Hall gambling house." CHAPTER LXXII FATE TAKES A HAND Francisco found that Pickering's prophecy had been a true one. On a subsequent visit to the Bush street saloon he found the Blind Boss unapproachable. After waiting almost an hour and seeing several men who had come after him, led to the rear room for a conference, word was brought him by the little, keen-eyed man that the position of Mayor's secretary was already filled. He was exceedingly polite, expressing "Mr. Buckley's deep regret," about the matter. But there was in his eye a furtive mockery, in his tight-lipped mouth a covert sneer. Francisco went directly to the office of The Bulletin, relating his experience to the veteran editor. "I supposed as much," said Pickering. He tapped speculatively on the desk with his pencil. "What's more, I think there's little to be done at present. Printing the story of Platt's Hall will only be construed as a bit of political recrimination. San Francisco rather fancies gambling palaces." "Jack!" he called to a reporter. "See if you can locate Jerry Lynch." He turned to Stanley. "There's the fellow for you: Senator Jeremiah Lynch. Know him? Good. You get evidence on Buckley. Consult with Lynch concerning politics. He'll tell you ways to checkmate Chris you wouldn't dream of...." Pickering smiled and picked up a sheet of manuscript. Francisco took the hint. From that day he camped on Buckley's trail. Bit by bit he gathered proofs, some documentary, some testimonial. No single item was of great importance. But, as a whole, Robert had assured him, it was weaving a net in which the blind boss might one day find himself entrapped. Perhaps he felt its meshes now and then. For overtures were made to Stanley. He was offered the position of secretary to Mayor Pond, but he declined it. Word reached him of other opportunities; tips on the stock market, the races; he ignored them and went on. * * * * * One night his house was broken into and his desk ransacked most thoroughly. Twice he was set upon at night, his pockets rifled. Threats came to him of personal violence. Finally the blind boss sent for him. "Is there anything you want--that I can give you?" Buckley minced no words. Stanley shook his head. Then, remembering Buckley's blindness, he said "No." Buckley took a few short paces up and down the room, then added: "I'll talk plain to you, my friend--because you're smart; too smart to be a catspaw for an editor and a politician who hate me. Let me tell you this, you'll do no good by keeping on." He spun about suddenly, threateningly, "You've a wife, haven't you?"