"Well, I don't know, Vangie," Francis said. He was in the middle again. "If anybody could do it," he said, "I guess Gabe would be the one."

    "But nobody can," she insisted.

    Gabe had heard enough of this. "I can," he growled.

    Francis looked from Vangie to Gabe, from Gabe to Vangie, and from Vangie to Gabe again. His mouth opened a few times, but he didn't say anything.

    Gabe finally took the poor fish off the hook. "Don't worry about it, Francis," he said. "Vangie just feels protective toward me, that's all."

    "I suppose that's it," Francis said, giving them both a shaky grin.

    "Though I don't know why I should," Vangie said, glowering at the table at large.

    Gabe grinned at her. She was a feisty little thing and that was a lot of her charm. He could put up with a certain amount of disagreement, just so she didn't overdo it. "That's okay, honey," he said. "You make me think things over an extra time, and that's good."

    "It would be," she said, "if it would ever change your mind."

    He grinned again, patted her hand, and turned back to Francis. "I told you," he said, "there's room in this for you, if you want in."

    Francis looked interested. "Do you know how you're going to do it?"

    "I've got my idea pretty well worked out," Gabe said.

    Vangie said, "Francis, do you want to go to jail?"

    Which put Francis in the middle again. "Well," he said, and moved his hands around.

    This time he was saved by a tremendous crash. Gabe was almost inured to spectacular noises around here by now but this one was so close it almost knocked him off his chair. He whipped around, ready to duck, run, or fight, and at first saw nothing but a thick cloud of dust in the middle of the saloon. But then he made out what had happened.

    It was the main chandelier, which must have weighed half a ton, all heavy crystal and pewter. It had fallen to the floor as though going to China the quick way. Smoke, dust, and debris filled the air in a big billowing cloud; the echoes of the crash rang back and forth like mission bells in a thunderstorm.

    And out of the cloud came Ittzy Herz, unruffled, dusting himself off.

    "Him," Gabe said. "I want him in the gang."

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

    Ittzy was checking to make sure he'd brushed all the plaster dust off himself when someone touched his arm. He thought at first it was just another prospector hoping for good luck, but it was Vangie Kemp.

    "Hi, Ittzy."

    "Why, uh, hi, uh, Miss, uh, Kemp."

    He wished he didn't get tongue-tied around pretty girls. It was really embarrassing.

    "Come on over to the table," she said. Her smile almost paralyzed him, but he managed to shuffle over to the table in her wake.

    "Ittzy, this is Gabe Beauchamps, and that's Francis Calhoun. We wondered if we could talk to you for a minute."

    Ittzy shook hands with the two fellows and pulled out the chair Vangie indicated.

    Vangie said, "You ran away from your mother again, huh?"

    "I'm thirty-four years old," Ittzy said. "I want to have a life of my own."

    The tough-looking one, Gabe, stared at him in awe. "You're thirty-four years old?"

    "Well, I know I look a little younger."

    "You look goddam nineteen."

    Vangie explained, "It's because he never worries."

    "But I got to thinking this morning," Ittzy said. "I mean, the Book says I get threescore and ten, and next month's my birthday. You know what that means?"

    "What does that mean?" Francis Calhoun asked.

    Ittzy wasn't sure about the look this Calhoun fellow was giving him. If he didn't know better he'd think it was jealousy. But that couldn't be. He said, "Well, it means I've used up half my time next month. You know? Thirty-five gone, thirty-five to go. I mean, it's time I got out on my own."

    "It sure is," Gabe Beauchamps said. "Vangie told me about your problem, Ittzy, and she thinks you're a fine fellow. It occurred to us we had something you might just consider a possibility right along those same lines, so we thought we'd let you in on it."

    This Gabe fellow certainly was talking fast. Ittzy said, "You are?" And looked at Vangie. "You, uh, uh, are?"

    "What you need," Gabe Beauchamps said, "is financial independence. What I mean to say is money of your own."

    Ittzy had never heard anybody talk so fast in his life. He looked at Vangie, "Uh, uh?"

    Gabe was leaning toward him, elbows on the table, gesticulating to emphasize his words. "If the farthest your finances will take you is the other side of the Bay, how can you ever get away from your mother's emporium? No, my friend, I have exactly the prescription you need right here. And what it is, what you need, is money. Big money."

    Ittzy frowned. He certainly did like Vangie. And he had nothing against her friends. But this was beginning to sound familiar. "I don't want to go prospecting," he said.

    "Huh?"

    Francis Calhoun looked alarmed. "Prospecting?"

    Ittzy said, "People always want me to go prospecting with them. I hate prospecting."

    Gabe was grinning from ear to ear. "My friend those are exactly my sentiments, isn't that a coincidence? I mean to say, I couldn't agree with you more, you're exactly one-hundred-percent entirely right. Even a rinky-dink town like this is better than slogging around in all the rain and mud out in the sticks there. Yes sir, you are absolutely right."

    "You mean you don't want to go looking for gold?"

    "Well now, I wouldn't go exactly that far. We are looking for gold, yes indeed."

    Ittzy was disappointed. He began to push his chair back. "I'm sorry. I'm just not interested in prospecting."

    Gabe touched his arm. "Even if you don't have to leave San Francisco to do it?"

    Ittzy frowned. "There isn't any gold in San Francisco," he said.

    Gabe grinned and winked, and leaned back to hook his thumbs in his vest pockets. "Well, yes, there is," he said. "As a matter of fact, there is."

    Ittzy looked at Vangie, but she was looking at him and that only made it more difficult to think. "Uh," he said, for no reason, and looked back at Gabe. "Where is it?" he asked.

    Gabe gestured toward the outside world, nodding in that direction. "Up at the top of the hill there," he said. "Up at the Mint."

    Blinking, Ittzy said, "Up at the Mint?"

    "You're right," Gabe told him.

    "I am?"

    Vangie said, "Ittzy, Gabe means to steal the gold from the Mint."

    "Oh, steal!" Ittzy beamed and nodded; now he understood. He knew what stealing was. It was merely a continuation of merchandising by other means. "Well now, that's much better."

    Vangie stared at him. "You mean you'd do it?"

    Gabe gave her a sharp glance. "Why shouldn't he? Ittzy's a grown man. He's thirty-four years old. He doesn't have a thing in the world to be afraid of, do you Ittzy?"

    "Nothing except my Mama."