e marks of a providential interference with a bullet destined for its
owner, and replaced it with some difficulty and shortness of breath in
his fob. At the same moment he heard a step in the passage, and the door
opened to Adoniram K. Hotchkiss. The Colonel was impressed; he had a
duelist's respect for punctuality.

The man entered with a nod and the expectant inquiring look of a busy
man. As his feet crossed that sacred threshold the Colonel became all
courtesy; he placed a chair for his visitor, and took his hat from his
half reluctant hand. He then opened a cupboard and brought out a bottle
of whiskey and two glasses.

"A--er--slight refreshment, Mr. Hotchkiss," he suggested politely.

"I never drink," replied Hotchkiss, with the severe attitude of a total
abstainer.

"Ah--er--not the finest Bourbon whiskey, selected by a Kentucky friend?
No? Pardon me! A cigar, then--the mildest Havana."

"I do not use tobacco nor alcohol in any form," repeated Hotchkiss
ascetically. "I have no foolish weaknesses."

The Colonel's moist, beady eyes swept silently over his client's sallow
face. He leaned back comfortably in his chair, and half closing his
eyes as in dreamy reminiscence, said slowly: "Your reply, Mr. Hotchkiss,
reminds me of--er--sing'lar circumstance that--er--occurred, in point of
fact--at the St. Charles Hotel, New Orleans. Pinkey Hornblower--personal
friend--invited Senator Doolittle to join him in social glass. Received,
sing'larly enough, reply similar to yours. 'Don't drink nor smoke?' said
Pinkey. 'Gad, sir, you must be mighty sweet on the ladies.' Ha!"
The Colonel paused long enough to allow the faint flush to pass from
Hotchkiss's cheek, and went on, half closing his eyes: "'I allow no man,
sir, to discuss my personal habits,' declared Doolittle, over his shirt
collar. 'Then I reckon shootin' must be one of those habits,' said
Pinkey coolly. Both men drove out on the Shell Road back of cemetery
next morning. Pinkey put bullet at twelve paces through Doolittle's
temple. Poor Doo never spoke again. Left three wives and seven children,
they say--two of 'em black."

"I got a note from you this morning," said Hotchkiss, with badly
concealed impatience. "I suppose in reference to our case. You have
taken judgment, I believe."

The Colonel, without replying, slowly filled a glass of whiskey and
water. For a moment he held it dreamily before him, as if still engaged
in gentle reminiscences called up by the