The Avalanche

ly to remain the one brief drama of his prosaic business man's life, began dimly to apprehend that he was hovering on the edge of a sinister

d one half crisis after another in order to confuse his mental powers and render him wholly a puppet for the final act. These little Earth histrion

as thinking of Hélène, a little disappointed, but on the whole vastly relieved, congratulating himself that, no longer haunted, he could give his mind wholly to the important que

muscles; strained in its attitude. When he raised his eyes to the face he found himself looking at the right cheek instead of the left, and it was pervaded by a sickly green tint quite unlike Madame Dela

work. He had a remarkable memory for faces and could pierce any disguise, he was as persistent as a ferret, and his knowledge of the underworld of San Francisco was illimitable. But his chief assets were that he looked so little like a detective, and that, so secretive were his methods, his calling was practically unknown. He had set up a cheap restaurant with a g

e to say to such a man when to his amazement Bisbee planted his elbow

rs, and, let me see-you weighed about a hundred and thirty-five-perfect figger-in the old days. Must weigh two seventy-five now. That makes one forty-five pounds extra. Well, that and time, a

es, his mouth unclosed to let his breath escape. Then he became aware that the woman had recovered

this man attempts to follow me please se

ravesty of the evening gown, called to the passer-by through the slats of old-fashioned green shutters. That had been before Ruyler's day, but he knew the history of the neighborhood, and this man's interest in it.

ched Front Street he sprang from the dummy and walked rapidly north to Ruyler and Sons. He locked himself in his private