"The stuff is hidden under Blizzard's house in Marrow Lane in cellars that he has been preparing for years. A passage leads from these cellars to a pier on the East River. Either he gets away with his loot in a stolen liner, or he finds that he may live on in New York, or perhaps in Washington."
"I don't see that."
"What effect would a successful revolution in New York have upon the discontented and the murderous of other cities? Are the criminals of San Francisco, Denver, Chicago to be outdone by the criminals of the effete East? I tell you, Mr. Allen, that sometimes in mad visions the legless beggar sees upon his brows a kingly crown."
"But the rest of the police--the garrison at Governor's Island?"
"O'Hagan was Blizzard's right-hand man, his general in the West. For the honor of being his left-hand man there are two aspirants--the mayor of New York City and the police commissioner--nor will the lieutenant-governor of our great State hold his hands behind his back and shake his head when the loot is being distributed."
"Are you joking?"
"No, Mr. Allen. I am dying. Now listen. I assume that you are no longer with Blizzard."
"What an ass I've been!"
"You are to find Abe Lichtenstein and tell him what I have told you. The boy Bubbles will put you on his track. As for money which Blizzard has advanced to you--" The stranger fumbled in his breast pocket and brought forth a much-soiled sheet of paper. "This locates outlying mining claims in Utah. They will make you rich. One-third to you--one-third to Miss Barbara Ferris--one-third to the boy Bubbles. You will tell him that I was his brother--different mothers, but the same father."
"You are Harry West," and Wilmot looked with compassionate interest upon the man who, if only for a brief period of time, had once stood first in Barbara's affections.