[Illustration: Walking Spanish.]
The Senator informed his two friends about the visit, and thought very lightly about it; but the recollection of one thing rankled in his mind.
That spy! The fellow had humbugged him. He had dogged him, tracked him, perhaps for weeks, had drawn him into conversation, asked leading questions, and then given information. If there was any thing on earth that the Senator loathed it was this.
But how could such a man be punished! That was the thought. Punishment could only come from one. The law could do nothing. But there was one who could do something, and that one was himself. Lynch law!
"My fayther was from Bosting,
My uncle was Judge Lynch,
So, darn your fire and roasting,
You can not make me flinch."
The Senator hummed the above elegant words all that evening.
He thought he could find the man yet. He was sure he would know him. He would devote himself to this on the next day. The next day he went about the city, and at length in the afternoon he came to Pincian Hill. There was a great crowd there as usual. The Senator placed himself in a favorable position, in which he could only be seen from one point, and then watched with the eye of a hawk.