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AN AMERICAN COUNT.
109
her sudden start was not lost upon Dexmore. His inspiration had developed simultaneously with Clara's oratory. He rose, very seriously. Clara wondered at his sudden change.
"Then I suppose, Miss Blakeman," he said, gravely, as he turned to the door, "I must submit to your judgment. I am a plain American. I have no whiskers, and no manners. I apologize for my presence here this evening."
As he left the room Clara turned quickly as if to follow him; then, recollecting herself, she resumed her position at the window, and later wondered why she did not see him pass down the steps.
In the library where Colonel Blakeman was smoking, stood Marie, very nervous, very much inclined to tears. Fear of a stern master had caused her to betray her young mistress.
"You're sure you have made no mistake?" said the Colonel.
"Quite sure, sir," answered Marie. "There is no mistake. I would know
the face anywhere — anywhere," she repeated, with a sweeping gesture.
"Then fetch me the letter." The Colonel was a man of few words.
"That's all. I'll excuse you, now. Remember to say nothing about this to anyone," he remarked, between puffs at his cigar, after Marie had returned and placed the letter in his hand. "But wait — where's that photograph? On her desk? All right, that's all I want to know." The Colonel tossed his cigar away as the door closed behind the girl. Rising, he began to stride up and down the room with the letter in his hand, when a knock sounded at the door. He did not have time to answer it.
"Good evening, Colonel, may I come in?"
It was Dexmore's voice. The Colonel chuckled. "Well, you've come at an opportune time," he said. "Read that," thrusting a blue, monogramed letter into Ralph's hand.
"Marguerite Bristol is about the nearest approach to a fool of any
HIS FINE SPEECHES FOUND READY EARS.