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Shirley Claiborne's eyes rested again upon the calm reader of the Neue Freie Presse. The waiter was now placing certain dishes upon the table without, apparently, interesting the young gentleman in the least. Then the unknown dropped his newspaper, and buttered a roll reflectively.
He trembled a little, but it was with delight, as he anticipated the effect of the speech Ross had outlined. But it did not come. "I'm not hungry, mother," was the revised edition which the freckle-faced boy offered to the maternal ear. "I we are going over to Mr. Claiborne's on er on an errand for Abner's father."
A hundred yards away the waterfall splashed down the defile and its faint murmur reached them. A wild dove rose ahead of Armitage and flew straight before him over the barricade. The silence grew tense as the horses galloped nearer; the men behind the cedar-lined wall heard only the hollow thump of hoofs and Claiborne's voice calling to Armitage and Oscar, to warn them of his whereabouts.
Justin H. Smith's Annexation of Texas and G. P. Garrison's Westward Extension , in American Nation series, give full and trustworthy accounts of the Texas movement; while Lyon G. Tyler's Times of the Tylers ; C. H. Ambler's Life of Thomas Ritchie ; J. W. DuBose's Life of William L. Yancey ; and J. F. H. Claiborne's Life and Correspondence of John A. Quitman , supply abundant material showing the temper and purposes of the different parts of the South in 1840.
As Claiborne thrust Chauvenet out of the room, Armitage turned to the little company, smiling. "I am not Frederick Augustus, the son of the Archduke Karl," he said quietly; "nor did I ever pretend that I was, except to lead those men on in their conspiracy. The cigarette case that caused so much trouble at Mr. Claiborne's supper-party belongs to me. Here it is."
In his right hand he held a silver box of orders, and as his arm fell at the sight of Claiborne, the gay ribbons and gleaming pendants flashed to the floor. "It is not Armitage; we have made a mistake!" muttered Chauvenet tamely, his eyes falling from Claiborne's face to the cloak, the sword, the tangled heap of ribbons on the floor. Durand stepped forward with an oath.
The trio behind the barricade had not yet seen the man they had crossed the sea to kill, as the line of his approach closely paralleled the long irregular wall with its fringe of cedars; but they knew from Claiborne's signal that he was there.
The dead fingers clutched a scrap of something yellow. On one of them was a large and peculiar ring. "My God!" murmured Lady Agatha, grasping Cleggett convulsively by the shoulder, "that is the Earl of Claiborne's signet ring!" But Cleggett scarcely realized what she had said, until she repeated her words.
As it was, he was taxing his wits to find some way out of his predicament. He had not the slightest idea as to what the paper might be. He had risked his life to secure it, and now the crumpled, blood-stained paper had been taken away from him by a person whom it could not interest in any way whatever. He blinked under Claiborne's sharp scrutiny as they faced each other in the library.
Confronted by the act itself, Abner was suddenly aware that he knew not how to begin. He took refuge in dissimulation. "Hush!" he whispered back. "Don't you see Mr. Claiborne's come out? He's going to read something to us." Ross plumped down beside him. "Never mind the card; tell 'em," he urged. "Tell 'em yourself." "No let's cut and run." "I I think the worst of it is over.
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