When my time came, I was asked for my credentials but had none to present. I was determined, however, to make some sort of stall, so I informed the young man that I had the misfortune to lose my ticket on the way down, but that he would surely remember me as the person who secured certain provisions from him on the morning before.
The clerk felt sorry for me, he said, but could not, in the absence of my duly signed credentials, afford me any relief.
"Would you have me return to my wife and six children without food?" I asked, imploringly.
"Don't like to do it, but the rules are imperative and I cannot break them," he replied.
"How about a loaf or two of bread, couldn't you let me have that much?" I pleaded.
"Can't do a thing for you!" was the stern reply.
"Would you mind letting me stand here then and satisfy my hunger by seeing others get what they want?" I inquired.
"No sir, you must move on!" he commanded.
With this, an old lady who stated that she had two little girls at home, but who evidently was of the kind that would share her last bun with a needy stranger, confronted me with the remark:
"Here, mister, take one of my loaves home with you."
My curiosity had been fully satisfied and after thanking the dear old soul for her benevolence, I placed two fifty cent pieces in her hand and requested that she give one each to the children for me, upon her return home, explaining at the same time that I had called only to see that things were being properly conducted acceding to instructions.
The old lady seemed satisfied with my explanation, the clerk looked wise and swelled up a bit to think that I had been outdone in my effort to ensnare him, and I, too, feeling content as a result of my investigation, extricated myself from the crowd and was soon lost to sight, not thinking it best to remain about the place, as it was not unlikely that some official of the relief committee might be hovering near and would inquire as to my identity.
Later I took a walk in an easterly direction until I came to the county road connecting Alameda with San Jose and continued down the road to San Leandro, where I ate luncheon and also 'phoned to my wife. I then returned to the park in Alameda and waited for Mrs. Watson until almost 5 o'clock. I returned to the hotel about an hour afterwards, as it was not likely she had kept her appointment. In the evening I attended a stereopticon entertainment, showing views of San Francisco during the progress of the fire immediately after the earthquake.
At 10 o'clock on the following morning, Mrs. Watson came to the park and informed me that upon reaching the building in which Mr. Heney's office was located, her heart had failed her completely.
"You will think me a coward," said Mrs. Watson, "I am probably all of that, but the truth is, I was overcome with an indescribable feeling of fear and could not proceed an inch further. I thereupon decided to return and see if some other plan could not be devised."
I felt keenly disappointed, but could not upbraid the woman, as her every action indicated distress because of her inability to do as she had promised. Besides I felt secure in my present position, and believed that it would only be a matter of a few days when some other plan would present itself to my mind, when I would probably think of some other way to reach Mr. Heney and arrange for a meeting.
This seemed to encourage her, and she stated, before departing for her home, that if I failed in my efforts to make other arrangements, to let her know and she would try it again.
This interview took place on Saturday morning. May 19th, or just one day before my capture.
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