"Of course this Mr. Harrington did not observe me
closely. It was night, and he was almost blind, even then. My
voice and manner are all that can betray me, and as he is
apparently satisfied on that point, I have nothing further to
apprehend from him."
Arthur liked to feel well--disagreeable reflections did not suit
his temperament, and having thus dismissed from his mind the only
thing annoying him at the present, he began to examine the books
arrayed so carefully upon the shelves, whistling to himself as he
did so, and pronouncing Arthur St. Claire a pretty good fellow
after all, if he had a secret of which most people would not
approve. He had just reached this conclusion when Richard
reappeared, and breakfast was soon after announced by the valet,
Victor. That being over, there was not a moment to be lost if they
would reach the cars in time for the next train, and bidding his
father a kind adieu, Richard went with Arthur to the carriage, and
was driven to the depot of the adjoining town. More than one
passenger turned their heads to look at the strangers as they came
in, the elder led by the younger, who yet managed so skillfully
that but few guessed how great a calamity had befallen the man
with the dark hair, and black, glittering eyes.
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