head with his hand. "Ged, sir! I do remember now that during our conversation, I made a memorandum, blank me, a memorandum upon the face of it, across it, a blank name, Ged sir, the very name of the party you were speaking of—Gabriel Conroy!"
"You wrote the name of Gabriel Conroy upon it! Good! That may lead to its identification without exposing its contents," returned Arthur. "Well, sir ?" The last two words were addressed to Mr. Dumphy's clerk, who had entered during the Colonel's speech and stood staring alternately at him and his employer, holding the accepted check in his hand.
"Give it to the gentleman," said Dumphy, curtly.
The man obeyed. Col. Starbottle took the check, folded it and placed it somewhere in the moral recesses of his breast pocket. That done, he turned to Mr. Dumphy.
"I need not say—er—that—er—as far as my personal counsel and advice to my client can prevail, it will be my effort to prevent litigation in this—er—delicate affair, blank me! Should the envelope—er—er—turn up! you will of course—er—send it to me who am—er—personally responsible for it. Ged, sir," continued the Colonel, "I should be proud to conclude this affair, conducted as it has been on your side with the strictest honor, over the—er—festive board; but—er—business prevents me! I leave here in one hour for One Horse Gulch!"
Both Mr. Dumphy and Poinsett involuntarily started.
"One Horse Gulch?" repeated Arthur.
"Blank me! yes; Ged, sir, I'm retained in a murder case there; the case of this man Gabriel Conroy."
Arthur cast a swift precautionary look at Dumphy.
"Then perhaps we may be traveling companions?" he said to Starbottle, smiling pleasantly; "I am going there too. Perhaps my good fortune may bring us in friendly counsel. You are engaged—"
"For the prosecution," interrupted Starbottle, slightly expanding his chest. "At the request of relatives of the murdered man, a Spanish gentleman of—er—er—large and influential family connections, I shall assist the District Attorney, my old friend Nelse Buckthorne!"
The excitement kindled in Arthur's eyes luckily did not appear in his voice. It was still pleasant to Col. Starbottle's ear, as, after a single threatening glance of warning at the utterly mystified and half-exploding Dumphy, he turned gracefully toward him.
"And if, by the fortunes of war, we should be again on opposite sides, my dear Colonel, I trust that our relations may be as gratifying as they have been to-day. One moment! I am going your way. Let me beg you to take my arm a few blocks and a glass of wine afterward as a stirrup-cup on our journey." And, with a significant glance at Dumphy, Arthur Poinsett slipped Col. Starbottle's arm deftly under his own, and actually marched off with that doughty warrior, a blushing, expanding, but not unwilling captive.
When the door closed, Mr. Dumphy resumed his speech and action in a single expletive! What more he might have said is not known, for at the same moment he caught sight of his clerk, who had entered hastily at the exit of the others, but who now stood awed and abashed at Mr. Dumphy's passion.
"Dash it all! what in dash are you dashingly doing here, dash you?"
"Sorry sir," said the unlucky clerk, "but overhearing that gentleman say there was writing on the letter that you lost by which it might be identified, sir,—we think we've found it—that is, we know where it is!"
"How!" said Dumphy, starting up eagerly.
"When the shock came that afternoon," continued the clerk, "the express bag for Sacramento and Marysville had just been taken out by the expressman, and was lying on top of the wagon. The horses started to run at the second shock, and the bag fell and was jammed against a lamp-post in front of our window, bursting open as it did so, and spilling some letters and papers on the sidewalk. One of our night watchmen helped the expressman pick up the scattered letters, and picked up among them a plain yellow envelope with no address but the name of Gabriel Conroy written in pencil across the end. Supposing it had dropped from some package in the express bag, he put it back again in the bag. When you asked about a blank envelope missing from your desk, he did not connect it with the one he had picked up, for that had writing on it. We sent to the express office just now, and found that they had stamped it, and forwarded it to Conroy at One Horse Gulch, just as they had always done with his letters sent to our care. That's the way
