Page:Scribner's Monthly, Volume 12 (May–October 1876).djvu/205

Rh stood loftily over Mr. Dumphy's chair; "I have—er—in fact sent for you, to withdraw the offensive epithets I addressed to you, and the threats—of er—of er—personal violence! The offense—is not yours—but—er—rests with your employer, for whose apology I am—er—now waiting. Nevertheless, I am ready, sir, to hold myself at your service—that is—er—of course—after my responsibility—er—with your master—er—ceases!" Mr. Dumphy, who, in the presence of Colonel Starbottle, felt his former awkwardness return, signed with a forced smile to his embarrassed clerk to withdraw, and said hastily, but with an assumption of easy familiarity: "Sorry, Colonel, sorry, but I was very busy, and am now. No offense. All a mistake, you know! business man and business hours," and Mr. Dumphy leaned back in his chair, and emitted his rare cachinnatory bark. "Glad to hear it, sir, I accept your apology," said the Colonel, recovering his good humor and his profanity together; "blank me, if I didn't think it was another blank affair like that I had with old Maje Tolliver, of Georgia. Called on him in Washington in '48 during session. Boy took up my kyard. Waited ten minutes, no reply! Then sent friend, poor Jeff Boomerang—dead now, killed in New Orleans by Ben Pastor—with challenge. Blank me, sir, after the second shot, Maje sends for me, lying thar with hole in both lungs, gasping for breath. 'It's all a blank blunder, Star,' he says, 'boy never brought kyard. Horsewhip the blank nigger for me, Star, for I reckon I won't live to do it,' and died like a gentleman, blank me!"

"What have you got to propose ?" said Mr. Dumphy, hastily, seeing an opportunity to stop the flow of the Colonel's recollections.

"According to my memory, at our last interview over the social glass in your own house, I think something was said of a proposition coming from you. That is—er," continued the Colonel, loftily, " I hold my-self responsible for the mistake, if any."

It had been Mr. Dumphy's first intention to assume the roughly offensive; to curtly inform Colonel Starbottle of the flight of his confederate, and dare him to do his worst. But, for certain vague reasons, he changed his plan of tactics. He drew his chair closer to the Colonel, and clapping his hand familiarly on his shoulder, began:

"You're a man of the world, Starbottle, so am I? Sabe? You're a gentleman—so am I," he continued, hastily. "But I'm a business man, and you're not. Sabe? Let's understand each other. No offense, you know, but in the way of business. This woman, claiming to be my wife, don't exist—it's all right, you know, I understand. I don't blame you, but you've been deceived, and all that sort of thing. I've got the proofs. Now as a man of the world and a gentleman and a business man, when I say the game's up! you understand me. Dern it all! look at that—there!" He thrust into Starbottle's hand the telegram of the preceding day. "There! the man's hung by this time—lynched! The woman's gone!"

Col. Starbottle read the telegram without any perceptible dismay or astonishment. "Conroy! Conroy!—don't know the man. There was a McConroy, of St. Jo, but I don't think it's the same. No, sir! This ain't like him, sir! Don't seem to be a duel, unless he'd posted the man to kill on sight: murder's an ugly word to use to gentlemen. Blank me, sir, I don't know but he could hold the man responsible who sent that dispatch. It's offensive, sir—blank me!" "And you don't know Mrs. Conroy?" continued Mr. Dumphy, fixing his eyes on Col. Starbottle's face. "Mrs. Conroy! The wife of the superintendent—one of the blankest, most beautiful women! Good Ged, sir, I do! And I'm dev'lish sorry for her. But what's this got to do with our affair? O! I see, Ged!"—the Colonel suddenly chuckled, drew out his handkerchief, and waved it in the air with deprecatory gallantry, "gossip, sir, all gossip! People will talk! A fine woman! Blank me, if she was inclined to show some attention to Col. Starbottle—Ged, sir, it was no more than other women have. You comprehend, Dumphy, Ged, sir, so the story's got round, eh?—husband's jealous!—killed wrong man! Folks think she's run off with Col. Starbottle, ha! ha! No, sir," he continued, suddenly dropping into an attitude of dignified severity. "You can say that Col. Starbottle branded the story as a blank lie, sir! That whatever might have been the foolish indiscretion of a susceptible sex, Col. Starbottle will defend the reputation of that lady, sir, with his life—with his life!"

Absurd and ridiculous as this sudden diversion of Col. Starbottle from the point at issue had become, Dumphy could not doubt his sincerity nor the now self-evident fact