fellow, John Armitage! So much knowledge! So
acute an intellect! You are too wise to throw away your life futilely."

"You have been most generous in sparing it thus far!" laughed Armitage,
and Chauvenet took instant advantage of his change of humor.

"Perhaps--perhaps--I have pledged my faith in the wrong quarter,
Monsieur. If I may say it, we are both fairly clever men; together we
could achieve much!"

"So you would sell out, would you?" laughed Armitage. "You miserable
little blackguard, I should like to join forces with you! Your knack of
getting the poison into the right cup every time would be a valuable
asset! But we are not made for each other in this world. In the next--who
knows?"

"As you will! I dare say you would be an exacting partner."

"All of that, Chauvenet! You do best to stick to your present employer.
He needs you and the like of you--I don't! But remember--if there's a
sudden death in Vienna, in a certain high quarter, you will not live
to reap the benefits. Charles Louis rules Austria-Hungary; his cousin,
your friend Francis, is not of kingly proportions. I advise you to cable
the amiable Durand of a dissolution of partnership. It is now too late
for you to call at Judge Claiborne's, and I shall trouble you to walk on
down the road for ten minutes. If you look round or follow me, I shall
certainly turn you into something less attractive than a pillar of salt.
You do well to consult your watch--forward!"

Armitage pointed down the road with his riding-crop. As Chauvenet walked
slowly away, swinging his stick, Armitage turned toward the hotel. The
shadow of night was enfolding the hills, and it was quite dark when he
found Oscar and the horses.

He mounted, and they rode through the deepening April dusk, up the
winding trail that led out of Storm Valley.

CHAPTER XV

SHIRLEY LEARNS A SECRET

Nightingales warble about it
All night under blossom and star;
The wild swan is dying without it,
And the eagle crieth afar;
The sun, he doth mount but to find it
Searching the green earth o'er;
But more doth a man's heart mind it--
O more, more, more!

--G.E. Woodberry.

Shirley Claiborne was dressed for a ride, and while waiting for her horse
she re-read her brother's letter; and the postscript, which follows, she
read twice:

"I shall never live down my acquaintance with the delectable Armitage. My
brother officers insist on rubbing it in. I even hear, _ma cherie_, that
y