Go to Bleiberg."
"I'll go. I give up." It was not the threat which brought him to
this decision. It was a vision of a madonna-like face. "I'll go,
John. Where are the certificates?"
"Between the mattresses and the slats of my bed you will find a
gun in a case. The certificates are in the barrels." His
countenance did not express any particular happiness; the lines
about his mouth were sharper than usual.
"The devil!" cried the Colonel; "if only I had known that!" He
laughed. "Well, I'll leave you. Six o'clock--what's this?" as he
stooped and picked up Maurice's cast-off hussar jacket.
"I was about to use it as a door mat," said Maurice, who was in
a nasty humor. That Fitzgerald had surrendered did not irritate
him half so much as the thought that he was the real puppet. His
hands were tied, he could not act, and he was one that loved his
share in games.
The Colonel reddened under his tan. "No; I'll not lose my temper,
though this is cause enough. Curse me, but you lack courtesy.
This is my uniform, and whatever it may be to you it is sacred
to me. You were not forced into it; you were not compelled to
wear it.
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