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He would undoubtedly be dealt with harshly by Chauvenet and Durand, but he knew that the sooner he reported his calamities the better; so he stumbled toward Lamar, pausing at times to clasp his small head in his great hands. When he passed the wild tangle that hid Armitage's bungalow he paused and cursed the two occupants in his own dialect with a fierce vile tongue.
Ah, Armitage, you look rather ill, but I trust you will harbor no harsh feelings." Armitage did not look at him; his eyes were upon the prostrate figure of Chauvenet, who seemed to be regaining his wits. He moaned and opened his eyes. "Search him, Claiborne, to make sure. Then get him on his legs and pinion his arms, and tie the gentlemen together.
Chauvenet was known to be a professional blackmailer and plotter of political mischief, and the embassy of Austria-Hungary had identified Durand as an ex-convict who had only lately been implicated in the launching of a dangerous issue of forged bonds in Paris.
Come, we've got to go down to Storm Springs." They rode away in the starlight, leaving the postmaster alarmed and wondering. Chauvenet and Durand were well mounted on horses that Chauvenet had sent into the hills in advance of his own coming. Zmai rode grim and silent on a clumsy plow-horse, which was the best the publican could find for him.
The revolvers of Zmai and Chauvenet cracked together, and they, too, turned their horses into the wood, and away they all went, leaving the road clear. "My horse got it that time!" shouted Claiborne. "So did I," replied Armitage; "but never you mind, old man, we've got them cornered now." Claiborne glanced at Armitage and saw his right hand, still holding his revolver, go to his shoulder.
Oscar had been down to the Springs to explore, and brought back news, gained from the stablemen at the hotel, that Chauvenet had left the hotel, presumably for Washington. It was now Wednesday in the third week in April. "Oscar, you were a clever boy and knew more than you were told. You have asked me no questions. There may be an ugly row before I get out of these hills.
The fog shut them in with each other; and Armitage and Claiborne, having flung back their own horses at the onset, had an instant's glimpse of Chauvenet trying to swing his horse into the road; of Zmai half-turning, as his horse reared, to listen for the foe behind; and of Durand's impassive white face as he steadied his horse with his left hand and leveled a revolver at Armitage with his right.
The silk lining fluttered loose where Armitage had roughly torn out the envelope. "Who is he? Who is he?" whispered Durand, very white of face. "It may be it must be some one deeply concerned." Chauvenet paused, drawing his hand across his forehead slowly; then the color leaped back into his face, and he caught Durand's arm so tight that the man flinched.
"Not without warrant from Higley, and Higley is out of town. Ross'll have to hold 'em till Higley gets back, or else take 'em over to Chauvenet," Lize snorted. "Old Higley! Yes, he's been known to disappear before when there was some real work to be done."
"Am I a hotel register that I should know? I haven't seen him for several days." "What I should like to see," said Dick, "is a meeting between Armitage and Chauvenet. That would really be entertaining. No doubt Chauvenet could whip your mysterious suitor." He looked away, with an air of unconcern, at the deepening shadows on the mountains.
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