Altogether, the sun went down on a day heavy with threats and promises. But whatever the rest experienced in that atmosphere of suppressed feeling, Kenneth McVeigh was only responsive to the promises; all the world was colored by his hopes!
And Monroe, who saw clearly what the hopes were, and who thought he saw clearly what the finale would be, had little heart for the festivities afoot––wished himself anywhere else but on the hospitable plantation of the McVeighs, and kept at a distance from the charming stranger who had bewitched the master of it.
Twilight had fallen before Pluto found the coveted opportunity 307 of speaking with him alone. Monroe was striding along the rose arbor, smoking an after-supper cigar, when he was suddenly confronted by the negro who had questioned him about the Federal policy as to slavery.
He had been running along the hedge in a stooping position so as not to be seen from the windows of the dining room, where the other servants were working, and when he gained the shadows of an oleander tree, straightened up and waited.
“Well,” remarked Monroe, as he witnessed this maneuver, “what is it?”
Pluto looked at him steadily for an instant, and then asked, cautiously:
“Mahs Captain, you a sure enough friend of Madame Caron?”
“‘Sure enough’ friend––what do you mean?”
“I mean Madame Caron gwine to have trouble if some sure enough friend don’t step in an’ tell her true who the spy is they all talk ’bout today.”
“Indeed?” said Monroe, guardedly; his first thought was one of suspicion, lest it be some trick planned by Masterson.