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"Well, not quite. Chance rather chucked us together, Cheyenne and me, and I think I'll travel with him for a while. I like to hear him sing." "He likes to hear him sing!" scoffed the Senator, frowning. He sat back in his chair, blew smoke-rings, puffed out his cheeks, and presently rose.
The two prisoners, puffing smoke-rings into the air, heard the heavy clang of the iron bar falling into place across the door, and sat looking into one another's faces through the deepening twilight. In the mind of both blaik and white reposed the same thought. The negro was first to break the silence.
She had attracted many men, for she was a beauty the beauty, in fact, of Society, she said. She spoke utterly without shame or reticence, as a life-prisoner tells his past to a fellow-prisoner; and Conroy nodded across the smoke-rings. 'Do you remember when you got into the carriage? she asked. Conroy thought back. It was ages since. 'Wasn't there some one outside the door crying? he asked.
Then he lit his pipe, and leaning back in his chair he watched the blue smoke-rings as they chased each other up to the ceiling. "I think, Watson," he remarked at last, "that of all our cases we have had none more fantastic than this." "Save, perhaps, the Sign of Four." "Well, yes. Save, perhaps, that.
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