The streets were fully lighted when we left Black Tom’s: street after street sparkling with gas or electricity, line after line of distant luminaries climbing the steep sides of hills towards the over-vaulting darkness; and on the other hand, where the waters of the bay invisibly trembled, a hundred riding lanterns marked the position of a hundred ships. The sea-fog flew high in heaven; and at the level of man’s life and business it was clear and chill. By silent consent we paid the hack off, and proceeded arm-in-arm towards the “Poodle Dog” for dinner.
At one of the first hoardings I was aware of a bill-sticker at work: it was a late hour for this employment, and I checked Pinkerton until the sheet should be unfolded. This is what I read:—
TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS REWARD.
OFFICERS AND MEN OF THE
WRECKED BRIG “FLYING SCUD”
APPLYING,
PERSONALLY OR BY LETTER
AT THE OFFICE OF JAMES PINKERTON, MONTANA BLOCK,
BEFORE NOON TO-MORROW, TUESDAY, 12TH,
WILL RECEIVE
TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS REWARD.
“This is your idea, Pinkerton!” I cried.