While we were in Minneapolis, McKinley informed me that he might have to leave the country for awhile, and that he had consulted Chicago attorneys with that object in view. They had given him a synopsis of the extradition laws, showing that there were few countries he could go to where he would be safe from extradition under the treaty laws for offenses of a conspiracy character. He virtually had his choice between China and some of the South American republics.
"No doubt, Steve," he said, in explaining matters, "we will want to correspond with each other, and this had better be done through my cousin, Allie McKinley, who conducts a saloon at 222 McAllister street, San Francisco, as he can be trusted on account of his relationship to me."
Up to this time I had entertained no thought that McKinley intended to leave the country. Soon after he took his departure, without any of us knowing his destination, and later he wrote to Marie from Omaha, stating that he was en route to either Florida or San Francisco, and it would be uncertain when she would hear from him again. It developed that he went to China, and it was a long time before I received any direct word from him. What I did get bore striking evidence that all the humor in his nature had not been entirely obliterated by contact with disagreeable experiences. One of his communications to me consisted of a photographic postcard, exhibiting the picture of a Chinese in "stocks," the form of punishment for certain offenses in vogue in that country. Upon this, in his familiar handwriting, McKinley had inscribed, "This Chink stole a piece of Government land in China." That was all, but it struck me as amply expressive. He did not even sign his name, but it was unnecessary for him to have done so, as the whole thing spoke volumes, and I could trace his facetious individuality in every word. A facsimile of the postcard is given herewith.
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