... But that's no reason why Hell should break loose
tomorrow morning."
"What are you going to do?" Benito asked.
"Use my common sense--and save the banks," said Ralston shortly. "You
two must meet me here this evening. Soon as it's dark. You'll have a
hard night's work. My friend Dore will be there also. Can you suggest
anyone else--absolutely to be trusted, who will ask no questions?"
"My son," Benito answered; "Robert likes work. He wants to be a
postal-carrier."
"Bring him by all means," said Ralston. "If he helps us out tonight,
I'll see that he gets anything he wants in San Francisco."
He was boyishly eager; full of excited plans for his daring scheme. The
two men left him chuckling as he bit the end off a fresh cigar.
* * * * *
It was nearly nine o'clock when they left the Bank of California.
Theater-going crowds were housed at the play; the streets were
extraordinarily silent as the quintet made their way toward the Mint.
Robert was breathing hard. The dark streets, the mysterious Empire
ahead, the hint of danger and a mighty stake distilled a toxic and
exhilarating fever in his blood. As the pillared front of the federal
treasure house loomed up before them, Ralston made a sign for them to
halt, advancing cautiously.
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