And here let the curtain drop on the melancholy scene, while we follow
the fortunes of black valise No. 2.
* * * * *
CHAPTER III.
When the train stopped at Camden, four gentlemen got off, and walked,
arm-in-arm, rapidly and silently, up one of the by-streets, and struck
off into a foot-path leading to a secluded grove outside the town. Of
the first two, one was our military friend in a blue coat, apparently
the leader of the party. Of the second two, one was a smiling, rosy
little man, carrying a black valise. Their respective companions walked
with hasty, irregular strides, were abstracted, and--apparently ill at
ease.
The party stopped.
'This is the place,' said Captain Jones.
'Yes,' said Doctor Smith.
The Captain and the Doctor conferred together. The other two studiously
kept apart.
'Very well. I'll measure the ground, and do you place your man.'
It was done.
'Now for the pistols,' whispered the Captain to his fellow-second.
'They are all ready, in the valise,' replied the Doctor.
The principals were placed, ten paces apart, and wearing that decidedly
uncomfortable air a man has who is in momentary expectation of being
shot.
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