As Mr. Hamlin would have advanced from the group, Colonel Starbottle lifted his hand deprecatingly. “What I have to say must be said before these gentlemen,” he began slowly. “Mr. Hamlin—sir! when I solicited the honor of this meeting I was under a grievous misapprehension of the intent and purpose of your comments on my action last evening. I think,” he added, slightly inflating his buttoned-up figure, “that the reputation I have always borne in—er—meetings of this kind will prevent any—er—misunderstanding of my present action—which is to—er—ask permission to withdraw my challenge—and to humbly beg your pardon.”
The astonishment produced by this unexpected apology, and Mr. Hamlin's prompt grasp of the colonel's hand, had scarcely passed before the colonel drew himself up again, and turning to his second said, “And now I am at the service of Judge Beeswinger and Mr. Wynyard—whichever may elect to honor me first.”
But the two men thus addressed looked for a moment strangely foolish and embarrassed. Yet the awkwardness was at last broken by Judge Beeswinger frankly advancing towards the colonel with an outstretched hand. “We came here only to apologize, Colonel Starbottle. Without possessing your reputation and experience in these matters, we still think we can claim, as you have, an equal exemption from any misunderstanding when we say that we deeply regret our foolish and discourteous conduct last evening.”
A quick flush mounted to the colonel's haggard cheek as he drew back with a suspicious glance at Hamlin.
“Mr. Hamlin!—gentlemen!—if this is—er—!”
But before he could finish his sentence Hamlin had clapped his hand on the colonel's shoulder. “You'll take my word, colonel, that these gentlemen honestly intended to apologize, and came here for that purpose;—and—SO DID I—only you anticipated me!”
In the laughter that followed Mr. Hamlin's frankness the colonel's features relaxed grimly, and he shook the hands of his late possible antagonists.
“And now,” said Mr. Hamlin gayly, “you'll all adjourn to breakfast with me—and try to make up for the supper we left unfinished last night.”
It was the only allusion to that interruption and its consequences, for during the breakfast the colonel said nothing in regard to his ward, and the other guests were discreetly reticent. But Mr. Hamlin was not satisfied. He managed to get the colonel's servant, Jim, aside, and extracted from the negro that Colonel Starbottle had taken the child that night to Pyecroft's; that he had had a long interview with Pyecroft; had written letters and “walked de flo'” all night; that he (Jim) was glad the child was gone!
“Why?” asked Hamlin, with affected carelessness.