th a sincere mirth that shook her resolution to deal
harshly with him. "But," he went on, "it was the flowerpot! He was mad
because I beat him in the foot-race and wanted to shoot me from the wall,
and I tossed him a potted geranium--geraniums are splendid for the
purpose--and it caught him square in the head. I have the knack of it!
Once before I handed him a boiling-pot!"

"It must have hurt him," said Shirley; and he laughed at her tone that
was meant to be severe.

"I certainly hope so; I most devoutly hope he felt it! He was most
tenderly solicitous for my health; and if he had really shot me there in
the garden it would have had an ugly look. Armitage, the false baron,
would have been identified as a daring burglar, shot while trying to
burglarize the Claiborne mansion! But I wouldn't take the Claiborne plate
for anything, I assure you!"

"I suppose you didn't think of us--all of us, and the unpleasant
consequences to my father and brother if something disagreeable happened
here!"

There was real anxiety in her tone, and he saw that he was going too far
with his light treatment of the affair. His tone changed instantly.

"Please forgive me! I would not cause embarrassment or annoyance to any
member of your family for kingdoms. I didn't know I was being followed--I
had come here to see you. That is the truth of it."

"You mustn't try to see me! You mustn't come here at all unless you come
with the knowledge of my father. And the very fact that your life is
sought so persistently--at most unusual times and in impossible places,
leaves very much to explain."

"I know that! I realize all that!"

"Then you must not come! You must leave instantly."

She walked away toward the front door; but he followed, and at the door
she turned to him again. They were in the full glare of the door lamps,
and she saw that his face was very earnest, and as he began to speak he
flinched and shifted the cloak awkwardly.

"You have been hurt--why did you not tell me that?"

"It is nothing--the fellow had a knife, and he--but it's only a trifle in
the shoulder. I must be off!"

The lightning had several times leaped sharply out of the hills; the wind
was threshing the garden foliage, and now the rain roared on the tin roof
of the veranda.

As he spoke a carriage rolled into the grounds and came rapidly toward
the porte-cochere.

"I'm off--please believe in me--a little."

"You must not go if you are hurt--and you can't r