“Art! It’s the sickest looking thing I—”
The colonel was already bringing another horror and tenderly dusting it.
“Take this one too—the gem of my collection—the only genuine Fra Angelico that—”
“Illuminated liver-pad, that’s what it is. Give it here—good day—people will think I’ve robbed a’ nigger barber-shop.”
As he slammed the door behind him the Colonel shouted with an anguished accent—
“Do please cover them up—don’t let the damp get at them. The delicate tints in the Angelico—”
But the man was gone.
Washington re-appeared and said he had looked everywhere, and so had Mrs. Sellers and the servants, but in vain; and went on to say he wished he could get his eye on a certain man about this time—no need to hunt up that pocket-book then. The Colonel’s interest was awake at once.
“What man?”
“One-armed Pete they call him out there—out in the Cherokee country I mean. Robbed the bank in Tahlequah.”