"You should go with Jack Hunt," said Edith mischievously. "I certainly wonder none of you travel more. Now, Mr. Gardiner down there has been all over the world." "Ah, poor Gardiner!" said Sibley. "How is it so clever and good-natured a man should be doing what he is?" And much to Sibley's astonishment, Edith Atherton turned on him with an odd question. "Well--and what are you doing?" Perhaps if Gardiner had heard her ask that question, he might have considered that Shanghai Smith need not intervene after all. But Smith did intervene that night. When Gawthrop left the theatre he went straight down Market Street to the water-front, and found his way to Shanghai Smith's without any difficulty. He had plenty of pluck, and plenty of ignorance of the real conditions of life in San Francisco. What he heard and what he read about the matter did not touch him; he lived in security in quite another world from the scoundrels at the bottom of Clay Street and the toughs of the "Coast." Life there was a theatrical representation. He sat in the stalls and said, "Poor devils, do they really live that way?" He was Sibley Gawthrop, the son of a big man: he was a power himself: he had no fear, and went into the trap smiling. If he carried in his hip pocket what Westerners call a "gun," it was on account of Western traditions. He showed no caution, though he walked whistling in the middle of the road. He had no chance to use any weapon, and he never saw Smith. He never even saw Billy, Smith's runner, till Billy sand-bagged him on the back of the head. For Smith was not to be found at his house. He was with Gardiner, and they were both waiting till they heard from the runner that Gawthrop was safely disposed of. "I ain't goin' to show in it," said Smith, "and why should I? The _Hampshire_ is short of two hands as I shipped in her myself. They don't go aboard when they should, and they turns up drunk at my house, and Billy puts them on board. Can I help it if he puts the wrong ones on her? Of course I cayn't. And if Billy finds the cash agreed on on 'em and hands it to me, why, I'll keep it till it's claimed by the owners of it!" He winked his eye at Gardiner, and the journalist burst into laughter. "They'll not touch me," he said, "and if they do, I shall either have the laugh on them or shan't care." As he spoke, there was a message sent up from the street. A boy wanted to see Mr. Gardiner. "A printer's devil, of course," said Gardiner. But he knew the word came from Billy. "Billy, Mr. Smith's runner, gimme a quarter to run up to you, sir, and say it's all right," said the young hoodlum. "And _he_ said you was to gimme another quarter." Billy had said nothing of the kind, but the boy got it all the same. And half an hour later Jack Hunt interviewed Billy the runner in about the same place in the dark road that Gawthrop had met him. The runner went through his pockets eagerly.