was in working order.  Finally I shut up the bank at five, went to the Piazza, partook of a light repast, and smoked cigars with mad speed till it was time to dress for the supper; and never was I more rejoiced than when the moment for action at last came.  As I was dressing, lingering over each garment with a feeling that I might never put it on, or, for that matter, take it off again, I received a second note from the colonel.  It was brought by a messenger, on a sweating horse, who galoped up to my door.  I knew the messenger well by sight; he was the colonel’s valet.  My heart was in my mouth as I took the envelope from his hands (for I ran down myself).  The fellow was evidently in our secret, for he grinned nervously at me as he handed it over, and said: 

“I was to ride fast, and destroy the letter if anyone came near.”

I nodded, and opened it.  It said: 

“C. escaped about six this evening.  Believed to have gone to his house.  He suspects.  If you see him, shoot on sight.”

I turned to the man.

“Had Mr. Carr a horse?” I asked.

“No, sir; left on foot.”

“But there are horses at his house.”

“No, sir, the colonel has borrowed them all.”

“Why do you think he’s gone there?”

“Couldn’t come along the road to Whittingham, sir, it’s patrolled.”

There was still a chance.  It was ten miles across the country from the colonel’s to Johnny’s and six miles on from Johnny’s to Whittingham.  The man divined my thoughts.

“He can’t go fast, sir, he’s wounded in the leg.  If he goes home first, as he will, because he doesn’t know his horses are gone, he can’t get here before eleven at the earliest.”

“How was he wounded?” I asked.  “Tell me what the colonel did to him, and be short.”

“Yes, sir.  The colonel told us Mr. Carr was to be kept at the ranch over night; wasn’t to leave it alive, sir, he said.  Well, up to yesterday it was all right and pleasant.  Mr. Carr wasn’t very well, and the doses the colonel gave him didn’t seem to make him any better—­quite the contrary.  But yesterday afternoon he got rampageous, would go, anyhow, ill or well!  So he got up and dressed.  We’d taken all his weapons from him, sir, and when he came down dressed, and asked for his horse, we told him he couldn’t go.  Well, he just said, ‘Get out of the light, I tell you,’ and began walking toward the hall door.  I don’t mind saying we were rather put about, sir.  We didn’t care to shoot him as he stood, and it’s my belief we’d have let him pass; but just as he was going out, in comes the colonel.  ’Hallo! what’s this, Johnny?’ says he.  ‘You’ve got some damned scheme on,’ said Mr. Carr.  ’I believe you’ve been drugging me.  Out of the way, McGregor, or I’ll brain you.’  ‘Where are you going?’ says the colonel.  ‘To Whittingham, to the President’s,’ said he.  ‘Not to-day,’ says the colonel.  ‘Come, be reasonable, Johnny.  You’ll