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Updated: May 12, 2025
Then, going to the door, she paused as though by an afterthought, and repeated quite slowly the words: "Winkelried Vienna not later than Friday Chauvenet." "Shirley!" roared Claiborne. John Armitage bowed to the already vacant doorway; then bounded into the hall out upon the veranda and ran through the garden to the side gate, where Oscar waited.
Shirley Claiborne and Captain Richard Claiborne, her brother, were on deck watching the shipping in the Mersey as the big steamer swung into the channel. "I hope," observed Dick, "that we have shaken off all your transatlantic suitors. That little Chauvenet died easier than I had expected.
Soon the Ambassador would leave and she would send Armitage away; but the mention of Stroebel's name rang oddly in her ears, and the curious way in which Armitage and Chauvenet had come into her life awoke new and anxious questions. "Count von Stroebel was not a democrat, at any rate," she said. "He believed in the divine right and all that." "So do I, Miss Claiborne.
He made sad havoc among the ladies that summer; the rest of us simply had no place to stand. You remember, gentlemen," and Chauvenet looked slowly around the listening circle, "that the unexpected arrival of the excellent Ambassador of Austria-Hungary caused the Baron to leave Bar Harbor between dark and daylight.
The mountaineer was saying: "Mountain folks air slow, and we don't know much, but a stranger don't ride through these hills more than once for the scenery; the second time he's got to tell why; and the third time well, Miss, you kin tell the little fella' that there ain't no third time." Chauvenet flushed and he ejaculated hotly: "I have never been here before in my life."
A moment later Zmai had lifted the silent rider to the veranda, and flung him across the threshold. Durand, now aroused, fastened the horses to the veranda rail. Chauvenet caught up some candles from the mantel and lighted them.
For larger operations one requires I should say courageous associates. Now in my affairs would you believe me? I am obliged to manage quite alone." "How melancholy!" exclaimed Chauvenet. "It is indeed very sad!" and Armitage sighed, tossed his cigarette into the smoldering grate and bade Chauvenet a ceremonious good night. "Ah, we shall meet again, I dare say!"
"He is a wise man who wields the knife himself, Monsieur Chauvenet. In the taking of poor Count von Stroebel's life so deftly and secretly, you prove my philosophy. It was a clever job, Monsieur!" Chauvenet's gloved fingers caught at his mustache. "That is almost insulting, Monsieur Armitage. A distinguished statesman is killed therefore I must have murdered him.
He walked on to make sure he was unobserved, crossed the street, and again passed the dark, silent house which Chauvenet had entered. He noted the place carefully; it gave no outward appearance of being occupied. He assumed, from the general plan of the neighboring buildings, that there was a courtyard at the rear of the darkened house, accessible through a narrow passageway at the side.
"Miss Claiborne is nothing if not extraordinary," declared Mrs. Sanderson with frank admiration. "The word seems to have been coined for her," said Chauvenet, his white teeth showing under his thin black mustache. "And still leaves the language distinguished chiefly for its poverty," added Armitage; and the men bowed to Shirley and then to Mrs. Sanderson, and again to each other.
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