He was of Servia, and they are an ugly race--yes ?" "What were you going to do with the paper ?" Oscar grinned.
"If I could read it--yes; I might know; but if Austria is in the paper, then it is mischief; and maybe it would be murder; who knows ?" Claiborne looked frowningly from the paper to Oscar's tranquil eyes.
"Dick!" called Shirley from the hall, and she appeared in the doorway, drawing on her gloves; but paused at seeing Oscar.
"Shirley, I caught this man in the sheepfold.

Did you ever see him before ?" "I think not, Dick." "It was he that brought your horse home." "To be sure it is! I hadn't recognized him.

Thank you very much;" and she smiled at Oscar.
Dick frowned fiercely and referred again to the paper.
"Where is Monsieur Chauvenet--have you any idea ?" "If he isn't at the hotel or in Washington, I'm sure I don't know.

If we are going to the dance--" "Plague the dance! I heard a shot in the sheep pasture a bit ago and ran out to find this fellow in a row with another man, who got away." "I heard the shot and the dogs from my window.

You seem to have been in a fuss, too, from the looks of your clothes;" and Shirley sat down and smoothed her gloves with provoking coolness.
Dick sent Oscar to the far end of the library with a gesture, and held up the message for Shirley to read.
"Don't touch it!" he exclaimed; and when she nodded her head in sign that she had read it, he said, speaking earnestly and rapidly: "I suppose I have no right to hold this message; I must send the man to the hotel telegraph office with it.