"There are two at his heels already."
"Good; but I'm afraid a hundred wouldn't be enough to keep track of the old fox," laughed Kendrick. "Well, it's time to be getting home. Reach me my hat there, will you? Make sure of the door--here goes the light." And he followed me into the hall and turned the key behind him. "Now, there's no need for you to go home with me," he continued.
"It's my way as well as yours," I replied, "and unless you object to my company, we'll go together."
We faced the west wind that came in gusts from over Nob Hill, with the salt freshness of the ocean fog heavy upon it, turned north at Kearny Street, and at Clay Street took the hill-climbing cable-car that still passed as one of the city's novelties. From the western end of the line we walked to the Kendrick residence on Van Ness Avenue.
"Well, good night, my boy," he said. "Sorry to have brought you up here for nothing. If you should get any light on the Council's plans to-morrow night, come up here next evening--say at eight o'clock. I may have an idea of my own by that time." And he closed the door.
As I turned to descend the steps, my eye was startled by a glimpse of movement among the shrubs that decorated the Kendrick lawn. At first I thought it but a branch tossed by the wind; but an incautious movement revealed the figure of a man silhouetted against the faint illumination from a distant street-lamp, and I felt a momentary gratification that my precaution had been justified.
I descended the flight of steps to the garden with assumed unconcern. Then, instead of following the second flight to the street, I turned, made a sudden spring on to the lawn, straight for the shrub behind which I had seen the man hide himself. It was but twenty-five feet away, and I reached it in an instant. No one was there. For a moment I thought my eyes must have deceived me. Then the rustle of a bush by the fence attracted my attention, and I made a dash for the spot. Before I could reach it a man rose from behind the bush, vaulted the fence, disappeared for a second of time, and then could be seen running swiftly down the street.
There was an eight-foot drop from the garden to the sidewalk, but I made the leap in my turn without mishap, and was running in the wake of the flying night-hawk before I had time to draw breath. I soon gained upon him, and as I came nearer I could hear his hoarse gasps, as the unaccustomed pace told upon him. At the corner of Sacramento Street I was near enough to reach out and grasp him by the coat.
He halted and turned.
"What do you want?" he growled, and then struck at me with sudden movement. "Take that!" he cried, striking again as I tried to close with him, and I felt the shearing of cloth before a sharp blade.