Suddenly the name of Jarman struck upon her
ear. She sat upright in bed, breathless.
"Are you sure it's the same man?" asked a second voice.
"Perfectly," answered the first. "He was tracked to 'Frisco, but
disappeared the day he landed. We knew from our agents that he never
left the bay. And when we found that somebody answering his description
got the post of telegraph operator out here, we knew that we had spotted
our man and the L250 sterling offered for his capture."
"But that was five months ago. Why didn't you take him then?"
"Couldn't! For we couldn't hold him without the extradition papers from
Australia. We sent for 'em; they're due to-day or to-morrow on the mail
steamer."
"But he might have got away at any time?"
"He couldn't without our knowing it. Don't you see? Every time the
signals went up, we in San Francisco knew he was at his post. We had him
safe, out here on these sandhills, as if he'd been under lock and key in
'Frisco. He was his own keeper, and reported to us.
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