over the table, keeping her eyes
on the young master all the time.

"I am not ill, Martha," he said.

"Ain't yer, now, Marse Le? Well, den, yer's gwine to be, dat's all," was
the encouraging comment.

She brought in the breakfast, and spread it temptingly out on the table, a
thankless task, for, as before, Le could not be persuaded to choke himself
by attempting to swallow a morsel of solid food; but he drank cup after
cup full of strong coffee, as fast as the woman could pour it out.

"Kill yerself! 'Deed you will, Marse Le! Drinkin' so much strong coffee
an' a-puckerin' ob yer stummick up, 'stead o' fillin' ob it out wid bread
and meat! Kill yerse'f! 'Deed yer will!" said Martha, as at last she
cleared the table and left the room.

"Yes, sah! Dere he is in de little parlor!" Le heard her say, as she
passed through the hall, to some one at the front door.

And in another moment the room door was thrown open, and Roland Bayard
appeared.

"Well?" demanded Le, excitedly, as he started up to meet his friend.

"Well, I can't find the sneak! I believe he has cut and run, that's what I
believe!" exclaimed Roland, snatching his hat from his head, flinging it
angrily on the floor, and throwing himself into a chair.

"What!" cried Le, facing him.

"I say the beat has beat a retreat!"

"What do you mean?" inquired Le.

Then Roland, having recovered his breath, told Le the story of his
fruitless adventure at the Calvert House.

"He keeps out of the way on purpose; but he shall not escape me!"
exclaimed Le, drawing his breath hard.

"I only came to report to you and take orders for the next step," said
Roland.

"He still retains his room at the Calvert?" inquired Le.

"Oh, yes! And all his effects are there."

"Then, dear boy, go back at once to the Calvert, and stay there until he
returns, and then give him my note. Take up your lodgings at the house, if
need be, until you discharge your mission," said Le.

"Yes--yes--certainly--with pleasure--but----"

"But what?"

"If you could lend me the loan of a strong pair of boots, or, better
still, a good saddle horse, it might help the cause a little," replied
Roland, laughingly extending both his feet to exhibit his own battered
"Wellingtons."

"What a beast I am!" cried Le, smiting his forehead with his open palm in
self-disgust. "You have walked all this distance in my cause, while I have
a dozen horses turning to stone for want of exercise in the stables