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Updated: May 20, 2025
The triumvirate, with Thaxton, Rhodes, Carleton, and the rest, had been frequent visitors all winter at the "Menagerie," as Clifford's bad pun had named Gethryn's apartment; but, of late, other social engagements and, possibly, a small amount of work, had kept them away. Clifford was a great favorite with Yvonne. Thaxton and Elliott she liked. Rowden she tormented, and Carleton she endured.
One is to tell you all the news before he has a chance. And I will begin at once. Thaxton has gone home, and opened a studio in New York. The Colossus has grown two more inches and hates to hear me mention the freak museums in the Bowery. Carleton is a hubby, and wifey is English and captivating. Rowden told me one day he was going to get married too. When I asked her name he said he didn't know.
"Oh, come," urged Rhodes, "what's the odds?" "You can take her and I'll take yours," began the wily little man, but neither Rhodes nor Thaxton waited to argue longer. "No catacombs for me," growled Bulfinch, eyeing the retreating nuns, but catching sight of the triumvirate, his face regained its bird-like felicity of expression. "Glad to see you indeed I am!
Next moment he was dragged to his feet and back into the flying mob. "Look out," panted Thaxton, "the cavalry they've charged run!" Gethryn glanced over his shoulder. All along the edge of the frantic, panic-stricken crowd the gleaming crests of the cavalry surged and dashed like a huge wave of steel.
The other Americans exchanged looks, and Elliott tried to check Clifford's folly before it was too late. "Espion!" muttered the Frenchman, adding, a little louder, "Sale Allemand!" Gethryn looked up startled. "Keep cool," whispered Thaxton; "if they think we're Germans we're done for." Carleton glanced nervously about. "How they stare," he whispered.
Clifford was beginning again with self-reproaches and self-abasement, but Rex broke in: "You fellows are awfully good I do assure you I appreciate it. But I wasn't in any more danger than the rest of you. What about Thaxton and the Colossus and Carleton?" He grew anxious as he named them.
She glanced at her supporters, who promptly applauded. "Ah h h!" she screamed, her little green eyes shining like a tiger's "Spy! German spy!" "Madam," said Clifford, politely, "go and wash yourself." "Hold your cursed tongue, Clifford!" whispered Thaxton. "Do you want to be torn to pieces?"
The road from Thaxton cross-roads did not lie through the town: the carriage was closed and nobody saw her. When they came to the rectory the Doctor pointed to the verse in white paint on the wall, "It shall be taken out," he said, "before to-morrow morning: to-morrow is Sunday." He was expected to preach on that day and the church was crammed a quarter of an hour before the service began.
They passed Thaxton and Rhodes, who, each with a pretty nun upon his arm, were trying to persuade Bulfinch into taking the third nun, who might have been the Mother Superior or possibly a resuscitated 14th century abbess. "No," he was saying, while he blinked painfully at the ci-devant abbess, "I can't go that; upon my word, don't ask me, fellows I I can't."
Clifford smiled sweetly and patted him on the head. "Tzing! la! la! My shot, Elliott?" "Tzing! la! la!" laughed Thaxton, "That's Clifford's biography in three words." Clifford repeated the refrain and winked impudently at the pretty bookkeeper behind her railing. She, alas! returned it with a blush.
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