Here a lady elegantly dressed, as if for a promenade, entered the room, and asked for the morning paper. She looked searchingly at Pompilard, and then went up to him, and putting out her hand, said, “Have you forgotten Charlotte Dykvelt?”
“Impossible! Who could have believed it? And you are now Mrs. Charlton!”
The lady’s lip curled a little, as if no gracious emotion came with the reminder. Then taking from the old man’s hand the printed sheet which Charlton had returned to him, she exclaimed: “What have we here? A Prospectus! Is not Major Purling your son-in-law? To be sure he is! A brave officer! He must be encouraged in his project. And how is your daughter, Mrs. Ireton? I see,” continued Mrs. Charlton, laying down the Prospectus and pulling away nervously at her gloves,—“I see that your grandson, Captain Ireton, has been highly complimented for gallant behavior on the Mississippi.”
“Yes, he’s a good boy, is Fred. Do you know he was a great admirer of yours?”
The lady was suddenly absorbed in looking for a certain advertisement of a Soldier’s Relief Meeting. Pompilard took up his Prospectus, began folding it, and rose from his chair as if to go.
“Let me look at that Prospectus a moment,” said Mrs. Charlton, taking up a pen.
“Certainly,” he replied, handing her the paper. While she read it, he examined what appeared a bronze vase that stood on one side of the table. He undertook to lift it, and drew out from a socket, which extended beneath the surface of the wood, a polished steel tube.
“Take care, Mr. Pompilard!” said Charlton; “’t is loaded. No one would suppose ’ was a revolver, eh? I got it the day after old Van Wyck was robbed, sitting in his library. Please don’t mention the fact that I have such a weapon within my reach.”
“I have put down my name for thirty copies,” said Mrs. Charlton, returning to Pompilard his Prospectus.
“But this is munificent, Madam!” exclaimed the old man.