“No!” began Armitage. “Good Lord, no! We are not going to advertise this mess. You will spoil it all. I don’t propose to be arrested and put in jail, and a doctor would blab it all. I tell you, no!”
“Oscar, go to the hotel at the Springs and ask for Doctor Bledsoe. He’s an army surgeon on leave. Tell him I want him to bring his tools and come to me at the bungalow. Now go!”
The conspirators’ horses were brought up and Claiborne put Armitage upon the best of them.
“Don’t treat me as though I were a sick priest! I tell you, I feel bully! If the prisoners will kindly walk ahead of us, we’ll graciously ride behind. Or we might put them both on one horse! Forward!”
Chauvenet and Durand, as they marched ahead of their captors, divided the time between execrating each other and trying to make terms with Armitage. The thought of being haled before Baron von Marhof gave them great concern.
“Wait a few hours, Armitage—let us sit down and talk it all over. We’re not as black as your imagination paints us!”
“Save your breath! You’ve had your fun so far, and now I’m going to have mine. You fellows are all right to sit in dark rooms and plot murder and treason; but you’re not made for work in the open. Forward!”
They were a worn company that drew up at the empty bungalow, where the lamp and candles flickered eerily. On the table still lay the sword, the cloak, the silver box, the insignia of noble orders.