“Parfaitement.”
“When you’ve brought it to the gate, come inside here; and don’t wait to see me into it.”
With another touch to his cap, Karl went off on his errand.
“Now, Governor?” said Maynard, “I must ask you to look up that horsewhip and quarter-yard of crape.”
Kossuth appeared in a quandary.
“I hope, captain,” he said, “you don’t intend any—”
“Excuse me, your Excellency,” said Maynard, interrupting him. “I don’t intend anything that may compromise you. I have my own feelings to satisfy in this matter—my own wrongs I might call them; more than that—those of my country.”
The patriotic speech went home to the Hungarian patriot’s heart. He made no farther attempt at appeasing the irate adventurer; but stepping hastily out of the room, soon returned, carrying the crape and horsewhip—the latter a true hound-scorer with buckhorn handle.
The gritting of wheels on the gravel told that the cab had drawn up before the gate.
“Good-night, Governor!” said Maynard, taking the things from Kossuth’s hand. “If the Times of to-morrow tells you of a gentleman having been soundly horsewhipped, don’t say it was I who did it.”