As he concludes, Hines turns to the new comer,—
"Well, my boy, what do you say? Will you take the post of honor and of danger?"
The Texan draws a long breath, and then, through his barred teeth, blurts out,—
"I will!"
On those two words hang thousands of lives, millions of money!
"You are a trump!" shouts Grenfell, springing to his feet "Give us your hand upon it!"
A general hand-shaking follows, and during it, Hines and another man announce that their time is up:—
"It is nearly twelve. Fielding and I never stay in this d——d town after midnight. You are fools, or you wouldn't."
Suddenly, as these words are uttered, a slouched hat, listening at the keyhole, pops up, moves softly through the hall, and steals down the stairway. Half an hour later the Texan opens the private door of the Richmond House, looks cautiously around for a moment, and then stalks on towards the heart of the city. The moon is down, the lamps burn dimly, but after him glide the shadows.
In a room at the Tremont House, not far from this time, the Commandant is walking and waiting, when the door opens, and a man enters. His face is flushed, his teeth are clenched, his eyes flashing. He is stirred to the depths of his being. Can he be the Texan?