Part 65 (1/2)

”Yes; you know her, I think, Mr. Poinsett,” continued Grace, lifting her arched brows with cold surprise. ”Manuela!”

Arthur turned pale and red. He was conscious of being not only awkward but ridiculous.

”Pardon me--perhaps I am troubling you--I will go myself,” said Grace, contemptuously.

”One moment, Miss Conroy,” said Arthur, instinctively stepping before her as she moved as if to pa.s.s him, ”one moment, I beg.” He paused, and then said, with less deliberation and more impulsively than had been his habit for the last six years, ”You will, perhaps, be more forgiving to your brother if you know that I, who have had the pleasure of meeting you since--you were lost to us all--I, who have not had his pre-occupation of interest in another--even I, have been as blind, as foolish, as seemingly heartless as he. You will remember this, Miss Conroy--I hope quite as much for its implied compliment to your complete disguise, and an evidence of the success of your own endeavours to obliterate your ident.i.ty, as for its being an excuse for your brother's conduct, if not for my own. _I_ did not know you.”

Grace Conroy paused and raised her dark eyes to his.

”You spoke of my brother's pre-occupation with--with the woman for whom he would have sacrificed anything--_me_--his very life! I can--I am a woman--I can understand _that_! You have forgotten, Don Arturo, you have forgotten--pardon me--I am not finding fault--it is not for me to find fault--but you have forgotten--Donna Maria Sepulvida!”

She swept by him with a rustle of silk and lace, and was gone. His heart gave a sudden bound; he was about to follow her, when he was met at the door by the expanding bosom of Colonel Starbottle.

”Permit me, sir, as a gentleman, as a man of--er--er--er--honour! to congratulate you, sir! When we--er--er--parted in San Francisco I did not think that I would have the--er--er--pleasure--a rare pleasure to Colonel Starbottle, sir, in his private as well as his--er--er--public capacity, of--er--er--a PUBLIC APOLOGY. Ged, sir! I have made it! Ged, sir! when I entered that _nolle pros._, I said to myself, 'Star., this is an apology--an apology, sir! But you are responsible, sir, you are responsible, Star.! personally responsible!'”

”I thank you,” said Arthur, abstractedly, still straining his eyes after the retreating figure of Grace Conroy, and trying to combat a sudden instinctive jealously of the man before him, ”I thank you, Colonel, on behalf of my client and myself.”

”Ged, sir,” said Colonel Starbottle, blocking up the way, with a general expansiveness of demeanour, ”Ged, sir, this is not all. You will remember that our recent interview in San Francisco was regarding another and a different issue. That, sir, I am proud to say, the developments of evidence in this trial have honourably and--er--er--as a lawyer, I may say, have legally settled. With the--er--er--identification and legal--er--er--rehabilitation of Grace Conroy, that claim of my client falls to the ground. You may state to your client, Mr. Poinsett, that--er--er--upon my own personal responsibility I abandon the claim.”

Arthur Poinsett stopped and looked fixedly at the gallant Colonel. Even in his sentimental pre-occupation the professional habit triumphed.

”You withdraw Mrs. Dumphy's claim upon Mr. Dumphy?” he said, slowly.

Colonel Starbottle did not verbally reply, but that gallant warrior allowed the facial muscles on the left side of his face to relax so that one eye was partially closed.

”Yes, sir,--there is a matter of a few thousand dollars that--er--er--you understand, I am--er--er--personally responsible for.”

”That will never be claimed, Colonel Starbottle,” said Arthur, smiling, ”and I am only echoing, I am sure, the sentiments of the man most concerned, who is approaching us--Mr. Dumphy.”

CHAPTER VIII.

IN WHICH THE FOOTPRINTS RETURN.

Mr. Jack Hamlin was in very bad case. When Dr. d.u.c.h.esne, who had been summoned from Sacramento, arrived, that eminent surgeon had instantly a.s.sumed such light-heartedness and levity toward his patient, such captiousness toward Pete, with an occasional seriousness of demeanour when he was alone, that, to those who knew him, it was equal to an unfavourable prognosis. Indeed, he evaded the direct questioning of Olly, who had lately const.i.tuted herself a wondrously light-footed, soft-handed a.s.sistant of Pete, until one day, when they were alone, he asked more seriously than was his wont if Mr. Hamlin had ever spoken of his relations, or if she knew of any of his friends who were accessible.

Olly had already turned this subject over in her womanly mind, and had thought once or twice of writing to the Blue Moselle, but on the direct questioning of the doctor, and its peculiar significance, she recalled Jack's confidences on their midnight ride, and the Spanish beauty he had outlined; and so one evening, when she was alone with her patient, and the fever was low, and Jack lay ominously patient and submissive, she began--what the doctor had only lately abandoned--probing a half-healed wound.

”I reckon you'd hev been a heap more comfortable ef this thing hed happened to ye down thar in San Antonio,” said Olly.

Jack rolled his dark eyes wonderingly upon his fair persecutor.

”You know you'd hev had thet thar sweetheart o' yours--thet Mexican woman--sittin' by ye, instead o' me--and Pete,” suggested the artful Olympia.

Jack nearly leaped from the bed.

”Do you reckon I'd hev rung myself in as a wandering cripple--a tramp thet hed got peppered--on a lady like _her_? Look yer, Olly,” continued Mr. Hamlin, raising himself on his elbow, ”if you've got the idea thet thet woman is one of them hospital sharps--one of them angels who waltz round a sick man with a bottle of camphor in one hand and a tract in the other--you had better disabuse your mind of it at once, Miss Conroy; take a back seat and wait for a new deal. And don't you go to talkin' of thet lady as my sweetheart--it's--it's--sacrilegious--and the meanest kind of a bluff.”