s back to the Claiborne gate. Chauvenet was dressed with his usual
care, and wore the latest carnation in the lapel of his top-coat. He
struck the ground with his stick, his look of astonishment passed, and he
smiled pleasantly as he returned Armitage's salutation.

"My dear Armitage!" he murmured.

"I didn't go to Mexico after all, my good Chauvenet. The place is full of
fevers; I couldn't take the risk."

"He is indeed a wise man who safeguards his health," replied the other.

"You are quite right. And when one has had many narrow escapes, one may
be excused for exercising rather particular care. Do you not find it so?"
mocked Armitage.

"My dear fellow, my life is one long fight against ennui. Danger,
excitement, the hazard of my precious life--such pleasures of late have
been denied me."

"But you are young and of intrepid spirit, Monsieur. It would be quite
surprising if some perilous adventure did not overtake you before the
silver gets in your hair."

"Ah! I assure you the speculation interests me; but I must trouble you to
let me pass," continued Chauvenet, in the same tone. "I shall quite
forget that I set out to make a call if I linger longer in your charming
society."

"But I must ask you to delay your call for the present. I shall greatly
value your company down the road a little way. It is a trifling favor,
and you are a man of delightful courtesy."

Chauvenet twisted his mustache reflectively. His mind had been busy
seeking means of turning the meeting to his own advantage. He had met
Armitage at quite the least imaginable spot in the world for an encounter
between them; and he was not a man who enjoyed surprises. He had taken
care that the exposure of Armitage at Washington should be telegraphed to
every part of the country, and put upon the cables. He had expected
Armitage to leave Washington, but he had no idea that he would turn up at
a fashionable resort greatly affected by Washingtonians and only a
comparatively short distance from the capital. He was at a great
disadvantage in not knowing Armitage's plans and strategy; his own mind
was curiously cunning, and his reasoning powers traversed oblique lines.
He was thus prone to impute similar mental processes to other people;
simplicity and directness he did not understand at all. He had underrated
Armitage's courage and daring; he wished to make no further mistakes, and
he walked back toward the hotel with apparent good grace. Armitage spoke