The loot of the Lazy A

It was one of those foggy, raining, dismal nights, when all the world seemed one vast drip, drip of water; cold gusts of wind from the bay, where the fog warnings boomed dismally, boat whistles shrilled; while on the streets of San Francisco, little less wet than the bay itself, cable - car motormen danced jigs upon their gongs, seeking to clear the tracks, which they could hardly see in the dim glow of their own headlights. Standing in the protection of a half lighted doorway, just outside the borders of Chinatown, was a girl. She was dressed in a black suit, black hat. Close inspection would have shown that both the suit and hat were slightly more than well worn, and were also very wet.