"Well," smiled John Quincy, "I've met only one Californian to date. But—"
"Yes?"
"So far, so good!"
"Oh, thank you." She moved away.
"Please—just a moment," called John Quincy. "I hope—I mean, I wish—"
But the crowd surged between them. He saw her dark eyes smiling at him and then, irrevocably as the hat, she drifted from his sight.
CHAPTER III
MIDNIGHT ON RUSSIAN HILL.
A few moments later John Quincy stepped ashore in San Francisco. He had taken not more than three steps across the floor of the Ferry Building when a dapper Japanese chauffeur pushed through the crowd and singling out the easterner with what seemed uncanny perspicacity, took complete charge of him.