“Beginnin’ to get ready, Miss Osbo’n. We’re gwine intu Columbia thirty minutes late all account dat hot box.”
Griswold passed on to the smoking compartment and lighted a cigar. His acquaintances of the supper table had retired, and he was glad to be alone with his thoughts before the train reached Columbia. He dealt harshly with himself for his stupidity in not having associated the girl’s perturbation over the breach between the governor of North Carolina and the governor of South Carolina with the initials on her travelling bag; he had been very dull, but it was clear to him now that she was either the daughter or some other near relative of Governor Osborne. In a few minutes she would leave the train at Columbia, where the governor lived, and, being a gentleman, he would continue on his way to Richmond, and thence to the university, and the incident would be closed. But Griswold was a lawyer, and he had an old-fashioned Southern lawyer’s respect for the majesty of law. On the spur of curiosity or impulse he had received a threatening message intended for the governor of South Carolina, who, from the manner of the delivery of the message, had been expected on this train. Griswold argued that the man who had spoken to him had been waiting at the little station near which they had stopped, in the hope of seeing the governor; that the waiting messenger had taken advantage of the unexpected halt of the train; and, further, that some suggestion of the governor in his own appearance had deceived the stranger. He felt the least bit guilty at having deceived the man, but it was now clearly his duty to see that the governor was advised of the threat that had been communicated in so unusual a manner.
He was pondering whether he should do this in person or by letter or telegram, when the rattle of the train over the switch frogs in the Columbia yards brought him to the point of decision.
The porter thrust his head into the compartment.
“Columbia, sah. Yo’ berth’s all ready, sah. Yo’ gwine t’ Richmond—yes, sah.”
His hands were filled with the young lady’s luggage. The lettering on the suit-case seemed, in a way, to appeal to Griswold and to fix his determination.
“Porter! Put my things off. I’ll wait here for the morning train.”
CHAPTER II.
THE ABSENCE OF GOVERNOR OSBORNE.
Griswold spent the night at the Saluda House, Columbia, and rose in the morning with every intention of seeing Governor Osborne, or some one in authority at his office, as soon as possible, and proceeding to Richmond without further delay. As he scanned the morning newspaper at breakfast he read with chagrin this item, prominently headlined:
Governor Osborne, who was expected home from the Cotton Planters’ Convention yesterday morning, has been unavoidably detained in Atlanta by important personal business. Miss Barbara Osborne arrived last night and proceeded at once to the governor’s mansion.