CHAPTER III.

MALTRAVERS'S PLOT.

Early on the following day Maltravers presented himself at Clarence Holt's lodgings, on Mission Street.

He found the husband and wife at breakfast.

They both rose and welcomed him, though it was apparent that there was more fear than warmth in their reception.

"Go on with your breakfast," he said; "don't mind me."

"Thank you, I am through," replied Clarence, who lost all appetite at the sight of the man who held him in his power; "it is time I started for the bank."

"You need not trouble yourself about business to-day."

"How?"

"I want you to do a little work for me."

Elise looked reproachfully at her husband.

"If you neglect your duties you will lose your situation!" she exclaimed.

"I will find him another if that should happen," said his lordship. "Can I talk with you alone, Holt?"

"Certainly, sir."

He handed the paper to his wife, and added:

"Go, my dear, to your room, and amuse yourself with the news until I am at liberty."

Elise, with an ill grace, quitted the room, wondering what secret business the two men were about to transact.

With the quick instinct of a woman, who is always more or less of a disciple of Lavater, and a judge of male character, she took a dislike to Maltravers when she had a fair opportunity of studying his face.

Not that he was homely. Far from it. He was just the sort of man to fascinate a woman, but there was a lurking devil in his features which betrayed the slumbering fire of wickedness within.

Her husband and Mr. Smith were closeted together for over an hour, when the latter left.

"You fully understand?" said his lordship, at parting.

"Perfectly."

"I leave for Calistoga this afternoon, and depend upon you."

"I will do my best, sir," replied Clarence, respectfully.

Closing the door, he sank into a chair and wiped the beads of perspiration from his forehead.

"He is not a man," he muttered; "he is a fiend."

Elise had entered the room.

"What is that you say?" she asked.

"Nothing," replied Clarence, evasively. "I have to go out. This evening I shall take you to the theatre."

"Indeed!"

Her eyes sparkled with pleasure, for it was not often that her husband of late had invited her out.

In happier days they were in the habit of going out together, but now Clarence left her alone with her baby.

He kissed her with some of the old-time tenderness, and the act brought the tears to her eyes.

"Oh, if you would always be like this," she said, "I should begin to feel happy again."

"The time will come, darling," he answered.

"God grant it. You have been so changed lately, Clarry. I have thought that you had some terrible secret on your mind."

"Oh, no."

"But tell me, will you not, what influence that man has over you?"

"What man?"

"Mr. Smith, he who was here with you. What were you talking about, and why has he kept you away from your work?"

"Little women should not ask questions," he replied.

With a deep-drawn sigh, Elise turned away to hide her tears, which flowed afresh, and Clarence Holt went out.

She felt that there was some awful secret which he kept concealed from her.

The brief happiness she had experienced was short-lived, and the heavy sensation which had oppressed her heart clung round it once more.

Clarence sent a note to the bank, excusing his absence on the plea of sickness, and going to a livery stable, hired a wagon and a pair of horses, with which he drove through the Golden Gate Park to Captain Foster's Cliff House.

On his way he looked frequently at a photograph which Maltravers had given him, underneath which was written the name "Jack Harkaway."

When he reached the Cliff House he put his horse under the shed and entered the bar-room.

Jack was already there, smoking a cigar by the window, and looking out at the seals on the rocks in the sea.

"Mr. Harkaway, I believe," said Clarence.

"That is my name, sir," replied Jack. "What is your business with me?"

"I am commissioned to give you a letter."

Jack took the proffered epistle from his hand, and tearing open the envelope, read the contents, which were as follows:

"I find it impossible to meet you to-day, as appointed, as I am making preparations to leave San Francisco at once, but I should like to see you this evening at the California Theatre. I have Box B. I will formally give up all claims to a certain lady's hand, and if you will let me alone I will not molest you any more.

"M."

"Thank you," said Jack.

"What answer shall I take back?" asked Clarence Holt.

"Say I will be at the theatre."

He tore the note into fragments, and with a bow Clarence left him.

Presently he was joined by a tall, stout, florid-looking man, well dressed, and apparently well-to-do, who said:

"Fine day."

"Is it?" replied Jack, abstractedly.

"I said it was a fine day, sir."

"Well, what of it?" asked Jack.

"You're a Britisher, aren't you?"

"I am."

"Guessed so. Been here long?"

"Really, I don't see how the length of my residence in this country can possibly interest you," said Jack.

"Don't see it, hey?'

"No, I don't, and what is more, I am not in the habit of talking to strangers."

"Got to get cured of that. However, if you want an introduction, I'll give it to you. Here's my card."

Jack glanced at it, and read the name of "Captain Blower."

Out of politeness he exchanged cards with him.

"Mr. Harkaway, I'm glad to know you," said the captain. "I'm a Forty-niner, and you can bet I'm solid."

"Indeed?" remarked Jack, with a smile.

"Yes, sir. I own real estate, and I'm interested in a mine. How do you like our climate?"

"Pretty good in the morning, but rather cold and dusty in the afternoon."

"What do you think of our seals?"

These are the two first questions that San Franciscans always ask strangers.

"Oh, the seals didn't strike me as being anything wonderful," replied Jack.

"Aren't, eh?"

"They seem quiet, inoffensive-looking creatures as they lie on the rocks basking in the sun."

"I'll bet you wouldn't care to swim out and bring one back," exclaimed Captain Blower.

"Oh! That would be easy enough."

"I'll bet you."

"My dear Sir, I don't want to make a show of myself, or I'd do it in a moment."

"I'll bet you," said Captain Blower, a third time.

Harkaway grew irritated at his persistence.

"What will you bet?" he asked.

"Five hundred dollars."

"I don't like to take your money."

"There is more where that came from. You dursn't do it."

"Put it up," said Jack, promptly.

The captain walked over to a military-looking gentleman, and producing a roll of bills, counted out five hundred dollars.

"Foster!" he exclaimed to the proprietor of the Cliff House, "you know me?"

"Well, I should hope so," was the reply.

"I've bet this gentleman, Mr. Harkaway, five hundred that he can't swim out to the rocks and bring back a seal, and I want you to hold the stakes."

"I'll do it. But does the gentleman know that it's the breeding-season, and the seals are dangerous at this time of the year?"

Harkaway approached and handed over his money.

"That doesn't matter!" he exclaimed. "I'm willing to accept the bet. All I want is a bathing-suit and a sharp knife. That's fair, I hope."

"Certainly," said Mr. Foster.

"I don't object," replied Captain Blower.

"You see that big fellow half way up the biggest rock?" continued Jack, pointing to the sea.

"Yes; that is the one we call General Butler."

"All right, I'll undertake to bring him back, although I might win the bet by carrying off one of the small seals."

Foster admired his courage, but doubted his ability to carry out his determination.

He took Jack into a bedroom, where he donned a bathing-suit and was given a carving-knife, which was the most formidable weapon they had in the house.

Thus provided he walked down to the seaside by himself, while Foster and Captain Blower, armed with opera-glasses, sat on chairs on the piazza and watched his progress.

Jack was an excellent swimmer, and plunging into the sea, swam rapidly toward the seal-rocks.

He carried the knife between his teeth.

The seals, who could be numbered by hundreds, had crept out of the sea and were lying in various places on the rocks, apparently asleep.

Some must have been awake, however, for every now and then a loud bark was heard.

What Captain Foster had said about the seals being dangerous was perfectly true.

They had been bearing young, and were perfectly ready to repel any invasion of their territory.

This Jack did not know.

No one ever interfered with them, as it is a penal offense to shoot them, they being one of the shows of the city.

What would San Francisco be without its seals?

A pleasant swim of from ten to fifteen minutes' duration brought him to the largest of the three rocks.

The seals began to bark, and some dived into the water.

To climb up was very difficult, as the seaweed was wet and slippery, it being ebb tide.

One seal attempted to bite him, but a dexterous thrust with his knife gave the sea-lion his death-blow.

With praiseworthy perseverance Jack got up to where the big seal was disporting himself in the rays of the sun.

The animal showed its gleaming tusks and snapped at Jack's leg, missing it by half an inch.

Jack stooped down and tried to stab the huge beast, but his foot slipped, and he rolled over and over until he fell with a loud splash into the sea.

The seal had also lost its balance, and came toppling over on the top of him.

Fortunately, Jack had retained his hold of the knife.

When he rose to the surface, he found himself confronted by a dozen angry seals, and for some time a lively fight ensued.

The sea was stained with blood, and Jack received some bites, more or less severe, but not serious enough to disable him.

At length, by a dexterous thrust, he killed the huge seal he had at first singled out as his prey.

It keeled over, and grasping one of its fins, he dragged it laboriously to the shore, swimming with one hand.

"By thunder!" said Captain Blower, "I reckoned those critters would have chawed him up."

"It's his good luck they did not," replied Mr. Foster, lowering his opera-glass.

Clarence Holt had been one of the spectators of this singular scene.

"You are five hundred dollars out," he remarked.

"Oh, I don't care for that. A friend of mine, Mr. Smith, gave it me to speculate with," replied Captain Blower, smiling significantly.

Clarence was much surprised at this declaration.

"Are you acquainted with Mr. Smith?" he asked.

"Yes. Anything funny about that? It's not an uncommon name, is it?"

"Oh, no, but I happen to be employed by the same gentleman, that is all," answered Clarence; "and all I can say is, if Smith's agents are so numerous, I shouldn't like to be Jack Harkaway."

"Why, no," said Captain Blower. "It would tickle me to death to hold an insurance on his life."

Clarence, after this, drove off, more than ever impressed with the power and resources of his employer.

In time Jack appeared with his captive, which Mr. Foster said he would have stuffed in commemoration of the event.

Jack took a bath, plastered up his bites, and did not feel any the worse for his exploit.

Captain Blower paid the money and hurried away, as if he had other work to attend to.

Jack had ridden over, and calling for his horse, mounted and rode toward the Golden Gate Park.

Soon afterward a buggy came up behind him at a quick pace.

In it was Captain Blower, who gave utterance to a whoop which would have done credit to a Piute Indian on the war-path.

This cry startled Jack's horse, which started off at top speed.

Jack endeavored to rein him in, but the bridle broke, and he was utterly powerless to control or guide the maddened animal.

Some one had evidently tampered with the rein, half cutting it in two.

The gate of the park was drawing near, and Jack became very nervous, for if he got thrown on the hard road he would be killed.

Fortunately, the horse swerved and dashed across the sand-hills on the left, plowing up to his knees, and greatly diminishing his speed.

At length his rider saw a chance of throwing himself off in a soft place, and did so.

The horse came to a stop a little further on.

Jack walked up and examined the bridle, which, as he suspected, had been cut.

"Lord Maltravers's agents again. I cannot trust that man," he muttered. "It will be best to have him arrested to-night, at the theatre. I do not see why I should keep faith with him."

Mending the rein he walked the horse home, and at the hotel found his two old friends, Mr. Mole and Harvey, whom he had left in New York, and who had just arrived.

The professor walked with a stick, being yet a little lame.

Harvey was the bearer of a long letter and many kind messages from Lena Vanhoosen.

It was a great pleasure to Jack to see his friends, to whom he related what had happened since his arrival in San Francisco.

"By all means arrest Maltravers at the theatre to-night," said Harvey, "and put a stop to his intrigues, once for all."

"I will," replied Jack.

"Suppose I come in at the end of the first act and bring a police officer with me?"

"That will do," answered Jack.

Mr. Mole had gone outside in the corridor, and all at once Jack and Harvey heard a great uproar.

They rushed out, and found the professor attacking a man with his crutch.

"Hold on, sir!" cried Jack. "What is all this about?"

Mr. Mole stopped beating the man, who instantly ran away.

"I can't stand it, Jack," said Mr. Mole. "I'm an old man and my nerves are weak."

"What has occurred to ruffle your feathers?"

"I have only been half a day in San Francisco, and this man whom I was chastising asked me, for the twentieth time, how I liked the climate and what I thought of the seals."

"Ha, ha!" laughed Jack.

"It may be very funny, but there is a limit to human endurance," replied the professor, shaking his head, dismally.

"Oh! it's nothing when you get used to it," Jack said.

Mr. Mole retired to his room, evidently laboring under the impression that he had been badly used, and Harkaway went out with Harvey to promenade on Montgomery Street.