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Updated: May 11, 2025
The tip of one of its tines was slit, in the slit was a white paper, and in the fork hung the bridle of my horse. I glided to the window. But there bethinking me how many a man had put his head out at just such a place and never got it back, I made a long sidewise reach, secured the paper, and read it. It was the envelope which had contained Coralie Rothvelt's pass.
I could discern Miss Rothvelt's features once more, and felt a truer deference than I had yet given her. Near the blacksmith's shop, in the dusk of some shade-trees, she once more touched my shoulder. I turned resentfully to bid her not do it, but her shadowy gaze stopped me. "Don't be moody," she said; "the whole mistake is four-fifths mine.
"But they were present, eh?" "They were neither of them present, Lieutenant; that hand was Miss Coralie Rothvelt's." "Oh, no!" he murmured, "that cannot be!" "I saw her face, Lieutenant, nearer to mine than yours is now. But she did it to help us oh, but I know that, sir! She came under my window and told me she had done it!
I could not tell whether certain sensations in my ear were given by insects in the grass and trees or merely by my overwrought nerves and tired neck. The moon sailed high, the air was at last comfortably cool, my horse stood and slept. I thought it must be half-past two. "Now it must be three." Miss Rothvelt's writing lay in my bosom beside my despatch. At each half-hour I re-read it.
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