“Some day I shall purchase that headland and build me a home ... and farther inland I shall grow a forest out of eucalyptus trees.  They come from Australia....  One can buy them cheap enough....  They grow fast like bamboo in the Tropics.”  He clapped a hand upon Benito’s knee.  “I shall call it Mount Parnassus.”

Benito tried to smile appreciatively.  He felt rather dubious about the scheme.  But he liked to see the other’s quiet eyes flash with an unexpected fire.  Perhaps his genius might indeed reclaim this desolate region.  Inward from the beach lay the waste of sand-hills known as Golden Gate Park.  There was talk among the real estate visionaries of making it a pleasure ground.

So regularly did they end their outings with a dinner at the Seal Rock House that Alice always knew where to find her husband in case some clamorous client sought Benito’s aid.  And tonight as an attendant called his name he answered with no other thought than that he would be asked to make a will or soothe some jealous and importunate wife who wanted a divorce without delay.  They usually did want them that way.  He rose, leisurely enough, and made his way to the door.  There, instead of the usual messenger boy, stood Alice.

“You must come at once,” she panted.  “Robert has been robbed of an important letter to the bank.  They talk of arresting him....  Ralston wants you at his office.”

CHAPTER LXIII

LEES SOLVES A MYSTERY

In the president’s office at the Bank of California, Benito found his son, pale but intrepid.  He was being questioned by William Sharon and a postoffice inspector.  Ralston, hands crammed into trousers pockets, paced the room disturbedly.

“You admit, then, that the envelope was given you?” Sharon was asking truculently as Benito entered.

“Yes,” said Robert, “I remember seeing such a letter as I packed my mail.”

“Humph!” exclaimed Sharon.  He seemed about to ask another question, but the postal official anticipated him.  “Explain what happened after you left the mail station.”

“Nothing much ...  I walked up Washington street as usual.  On the edge of Chinatown a woman stopped me ... asked me how to get to Market street.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes, that’s all,” said Robert.  “She seemed confused by our criss-cross streets.  I had to tell her several times ... to point the way before she understood.”

“And nothing else happened?”

“Nothing else—­except that Mr. Ralston asked me for the letter.  Said he was expecting it....  I searched my bag but couldn’t find it.”

“Tell us more about this woman.  Give us a description of her.”

“Spanish type,” said Robert tersely.  “Very pleasant; smiled a lot and had gold fillings in her teeth.  Must have been quite handsome when she was young.”

The inspector stroked his chin reflectively.  “Didn’t set the bag down, did you? ... when you pointed out the way, for instance?”