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"I see that I am not likely to escape any of the results of my imprudence," he cried, and with a quick jerk bared his shirt-front. A splash of red defiled its otherwise uniform whiteness! That it was the red of heart's blood was proved by the shrinking look he unconsciously cast at it. My love for Anson Durand died at sight of that crimson splash or I thought it did.
Monsieur Durand himself gave lessons in it and in French but in the English and American colonies of Buenos Aires exclusively. There were reasons why he did not care to teach among Catholics, though he himself was a fervent one, and he hoped repentant. He pronounced the last word with some emphasis, as though to call Strange's attention to it.
"Forget Jim while you're thinkin' about this. You don't owe Jerry Durand anything, anyhow. Where would he have Kitty taken? You can give a guess." She had made her decision before she spoke. "Gimme paper and a pencil." On Clay's notebook she scrawled hurriedly an address. "Jim'd croak me if he knew I'd given this," she said, looking straight at the cattleman.
Bibot, somewhat impressed and remembering Marat's admonitions, said very civilly: "Tell me your business then, citizen, and show me your passports. If everything is in order you may go your way." "But you know me, citizen Bibot?" queried the other. "Yes, I know you unofficially, citizen Durand."
Though the story had not come at first hand, she believed it was true, and thought from her knowledge of him that the man would weaken under a mild third degree. Clay summed up in a sentence the result of all the evidence they had collected. "It's not any longer a question of whether Bromfield goes to prison, but of Durand. The fellow has sure overplayed his hand."
On the whole Clay inclined to think that the letter was not a forgery. In his frank, outdoor code there was no reason why Durand should hate him enough to go to such trouble to trap him. The fellow had more than squared accounts when he had beaten him up outside the Sea Siren. Why should he want to do anything more to him?
"In the provost-marshal's hands?" said his friend: "then it is all over, indeed! When does my poor friend suffer, sir?" "At half-past six o'clock, the day after to-morrow," said the officer, sitting down, and helping himself to wine. "But stop," said he, suddenly; "sure I can't mistake? Yes no yes, it is. My dear friend, my dear Durand! don't you recollect your old schoolfellow, Antoine?"
In writing of the great Russian novelist it naturally suggests itself to say a word upon Madame Émile Durand, or "Henri Gréville," who has lately achieved so universal a reputation. One of her slightest efforts has just been crowned by the Academy, and one or more of her tales has been translated into all the tongues of Europe, including Dutch and Spanish.
"Black and brown, with their inimical suggestions of death and hell, change their meaning as soon as the founders of religious Orders adopt them for the garb of the cloister. Black then symbolizes renunciation, repentance, the mortification of the flesh, according to Durand de Mende; and brown and even grey suggest poverty and humility.
One felt that if one had penetrated to the farthest corner of the farthest attic, a little parcel of spiritual gloom would have already arrived there. The sense of disaster was in the abode. The cook was prophesying like anything in the kitchen. Durand in the garage was meditating upon such of his master's pithy remarks as he had been able to understand.
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