“Damn my cigarette case!” bellowed Armitage, clapping his hand to his pocket to make sure of it.

“That’s what I say!  But it was a disagreeable situation,—­you must admit that.”

“It was, indeed!”

“It requires some nerve for a man to tell a circumstantial story like that to a tableful of gentlemen, about one of the gentlemen!”

“No doubt of it whatever, Mr. Claiborne.”

Armitage unbuttoned his coat, and jerked back the lapels impatiently.

“And I knew as much about Monsieur Chauvenet as I did about you, or as I do about you!”

“What you know of him, Mr. Claiborne, is of no consequence.  And what you don’t know about me would fill a large volume.  How did you get here, and what do you propose doing, now that you are here?  I am in a hurry and have no time to waste.  If I can’t get anything satisfactory out of you within two minutes I’m going to chuck you back into the sack.”

“I came up here in the hills to look for you—­you—­you—!  Do you understand?” began Claiborne angrily.  “And as I was riding along the road about two miles from here I ran into three men on horseback.  When I stopped to parley with them and find out what they were doing, they crept up on me and grabbed my horse and put that sack over my head.  They had mistaken me for you; and they brought me here, into your house, and pulled the sack off and were decidedly disagreeable at finding they had made a mistake.  One of them had gone in to ransack your effects and when they pulled off the bag and disclosed the wrong hare, he dropped his loot on the floor; and then I told them to go to the devil, and I hope they’ve done it!  When you came in I was picking up your traps, and I submit that the sword is handsome enough to challenge anybody’s eye.  And there’s all there is of the story, and I don’t care a damn whether you believe it or not.”

Their eyes were fixed upon each other in a gaze of anger and resentment.  Suddenly, Armitage’s tense figure relaxed; the fierce light in his eyes gave way to a gleam of humor and he laughed long and loud.

“Your face—­your face, Claiborne; it’s funny.  It’s too funny for any use.  When your teeth show it’s something ghastly.  For God’s sake go in there and wash your face!”

He made a light in his own room and plied Claiborne with towels, while he continued to break forth occasionally in fresh bursts of laughter.  When they went into the hall both men were grave.

“Claiborne—­”

Armitage put out his hand and Claiborne took it in a vigorous clasp.

“You don’t know who I am or what I am; and I haven’t got time to tell you now.  It’s a long story; and I have much to do, but I swear to you, Claiborne, that my hands are clean; that the game I am playing is no affair of my own, but a big thing that I have pledged myself to carry through.  I want you to ride down there in the valley and keep Marhof quiet for a few hours; tell him I know more of what’s going on in Vienna than he does, and that if he will only sit in a rocking-chair and tell you fairy stories till morning, we can all be happy.  Is it a bargain—­or—­must I still hang your head down the well till I get through?”