Page:Maud Howe - Atlanta in the South.djvu/53

 natural fighters, to whom a contest of words is next best to that of arms.

"I will play a game of chess with pleasure," he answered. "There is one thing I wish to speak to you about first, Rondelet; it is about the killing of young Fernand Thoron. Have you heard of any new developments in the case?"

The General watched the young physician keenly as he spoke. Philip's color changed as he answered, in a low, constrained voice,—

"No, I have heard nothing."

"They were talking about it at the club last night; no one told you of that?"

"No."

"I think you ought to know," said the General, speaking slowly and impressively, "what was said—whispered, rather, for I do not know how the rumor started, or even how it reached my ears; but it was suggested by some one that you knew something about that affair."

It had come at last, the vague report of that wild night, nearly two months ago. He straightened himself where he stood, as if to brace himself against another shock. But the General said nothing more, and evidently waited for an answer. It came slowly.

"I never to my knowledge saw the man you speak of. I remember hearing of his sudden death at the time, and that a theory of suicide