The clerk ignored it. He and the senator bent heads together again. "No," he said, "Hugh only told him he feared it was Basile. In fact, it wasn't. It isn't."
"Who is it, then? It's a passenger and a bad case."
"Will you keep it dark—by the patient's own request—till the show's over to-night?"
The senator nodded. The two heads came closer. The general scorned to listen. The name did not reach him.
"Jove!" gasped the senator. "Come, general." They went.
The first clerk turned to the second clerk's elbow at the high desk, saying dryly: "They came to demand those shooting-irons and couldn't muster the brass."
XXXV
UNSETTLED WEATHER
Again the Votaress was passing the Westwood and again was but a short mile behind the Antelope.