He made the sign of the cross, rose, brushed the dirt from his knees and put on his hat.

“He was a coward and died an ugly death, but I am glad I did not kill him.”

“Yes, we were spared murder,” said Claiborne; and when they had trodden out the fire and scattered the embers into the stream, they climbed the steep side of the gap and turned toward the bungalow.  Oscar trudged silently at Claiborne’s side, and neither spoke.  Both were worn to the point of exhaustion by the events of the long day; the stubborn patience and fidelity of the little man touched a chord in Claiborne.  Almost unconsciously he threw his arm across Oscar’s shoulders and walked thus beside him as they traversed the battle-field of the morning.

“You knew Mr. Armitage when he was a boy?” asked Claiborne.

“Yes; in the Austrian forest, on his father’s place—­the Count Ferdinand von Stroebel.  The young captain’s mother died when he was a child; his father was the great statesman, and did much for the Schomburgs and Austria; but it did not aid his disposition—­no?”

The secret service men had come by way of the Springs, and were waiting at the bungalow to report to Claiborne.  They handed him a sealed packet of instructions from the Secretary of War.  The deportation of Chauvenet and Durand was to be effected at once under Claiborne’s direction, and he sent Oscar to the stables for the buckboard and sat down on the veranda to discuss the trip to Baltimore with the two secret agents.  They were to gather up the personal effects of the conspirators at the tavern on the drive to Lamar.  The rooms occupied by Chauvenet at Washington had already been ransacked and correspondence and memoranda of a startling character seized.  Chauvenet was known to be a professional blackmailer and plotter of political mischief, and the embassy of Austria-Hungary had identified Durand as an ex-convict who had only lately been implicated in the launching of a dangerous issue of forged bonds in Paris.  Claiborne had been carefully coached by his father, and he answered the questions of the officers readily: 

“If these men give you any trouble, put them under arrest in the nearest jail.  We can bring them back here for attempted murder, if nothing worse; and these mountain juries will see that they’re put away for a long time.  You will accompany them on board the George W. Custis, and stay with them until you reach Cape Charles.  A lighthouse tender will follow the steamer down Chesapeake Bay and take you off.  If these gentlemen do not give the proper orders to the captain of the steamer, you will put them all under arrest and signal the tender.”

Chauvenet and Durand had been brought out and placed in the buckboard, and these orders were intended for their ears.

“We will waive our right to a writ of habeas corpus,” remarked Durand cheerfully, as Claiborne flashed a lantern over them.  “Dearest Jules, we shall not forget Monsieur Claiborne’s courteous treatment of us.”