Part 52 (1/2)
”Give me that paper!” he whispered fiercely. ”Give it to me or I'll kill you where you lay! Give it to me!”
In the struggle Delaven struck the guitar with the heel of his boot, there was a crash of resonant wood, and a wail of the strings, and it reached the ears of Masterson and the orderly, who were about to enter the side door from the arbor.
Masterson halted to listen whence the crash came, but the orderly's ears were more accurate and he dashed towards the corner.
”Captain,” he called in a loud whisper, as he saw the struggling figures, and at the call and the sound of quick steps Pierson leaped to his feet and ran for the shrubbery.
”Halt!” called Masterson, and fired one shot from his revolver. The fugitive leaped to one side as the order rang out and the bullet went whistling past. He had cleared the open s.p.a.ce and was in the shrubbery. The orderly dashed after him as Masterson caught Delaven, who was scrambling to his feet, feeling his throat and trying to take a full breath.
”Who are you?” demanded Masterson, shaking him a trifle to hasten the smothered speech. ”Doctor Delaven! You! Who was that man?”
”It's little I can tell you,” gasped the other, ”except that he's some murderous rival who wanted to make an angel of me. Man, but he has a grip!”
Margeret suddenly appeared on the veranda with a lamp held high above her head, as she peered downward in the darkness, and by its light Masterson scanned the appearance of Delaven with a doubtful eye.
”Why did the man a.s.sault you?” he demanded, and Delaven showed the long envelope.
”He was trying to rob me of a letter let fall from the balcony above, bad luck to him!”
At that moment the orderly came running back to say that the man had got away; a horse had been tied over in the pines, they could hear the beat of its hoofs now on the big road.
”Get a horse and follow him,” ordered Masterson briefly, as McVeigh and Clarkson came down the stairs and past Margeret. ”Arrest him, shoot him, fetch him back some way!” Then he turned again to the would-be cavalier of romance, who was surveying the guitar disconsolately.
”Doctor Delaven, what are you doing in that uniform?”
”I was about to give a concert,” returned that individual, who made a grotesque figure in the borrowed suit, a world too large for him.
McVeigh laughed as he heard the reply and surveyed the speaker.
Masterson's persistent search for spies had evidently spoiled Delaven's serenade.
Mrs. McVeigh opened a window and asked what the trouble was, and Masterson a.s.sured her it was only an accident--his revolver had gone off, but no one was hurt, on which a.s.surance she said good night and closed the window, while the group stood looking at each other questioningly. Masterson's manner showed that it was something more than an accident.
”What is the meaning of this?” asked McVeigh in a guarded tone; and Masterson pointed to the package in Delaven's hand.
”I think we've found it, Colonel,” he said, excitedly. ”Doctor Delaven, what is in that envelope?”
”Faith, I don't know, Captain. The fellow didn't give me time to read it.”
”Give it to me.”
”No, I'll not,” returned Delaven, moving towards the light.
”And why not?” demanded Masterson, suspiciously.
”Because it's from a lady, and it's private.”
He held the envelope to the light, but there was no name or address on it. He tore off the end and in extracting the contents two papers slipped out and fell on the ground. Masterson picked them up and after a glance waved them triumphantly, while Delaven looked puzzled over the slip in his hands. It was only something about military matters,--the furthest thing possible from a billet-doux.
”I thought myself it was the weightiest one ever launched by Cupid,”
he remarked as he shook his head over the mystery. But Masterson thrust the papers into McVeigh's hands.