He shook his head.
"Simply 'Mortimer.' It occurred to me he could turn them over to Clinton, accuse the Colonel of treason, and share in the confiscation of this estate, or else hold them as a threat over your sister. I burned them."
He was silent for a long minute, breathing hard; then he thrust out his hand and clasped mine.
"The damned villain!" he ejaculated, his voice trembling. "Every move he has made has been an attempt to ruin us. I can see it now. Do you suppose Claire really cares for the fellow?"
"I am very sure she does not."
"Then what, in heaven's name, does she let him hang around for? I always hated the sight of his black face and infernal grin, but somehow, I thought she rather liked him. I wonder if he can be there now! If he is, then he and Fagin are up to some devilment."
"And what that may be we'll never discover by talking here," I put in sternly, suddenly realizing we were wasting time. "Come, let's get around to the north side."
We came in back of the summer-house, and had just left the road, when three horsemen galloped past, straight up toward the front door, which stood wide open. The black shadow of a man appeared in the glow of light, shading his eyes as he looked out into the darkness.
"Is that you, Culver?"
"Yes," sullenly, the speaker swinging down from the saddle.