And Colonel Starbottle knew this,
as, perspiring, florid, and panting, he rebuttoned the lower buttons
of his blue frock-coat, which had become loosed in an oratorical
spasm, and readjusted his old-fashioned, spotless shirt frill above it
as he strutted from the court-room amidst the hand-shakings and
acclamations of his friends.
And here an unprecedented thing occurred. The Colonel absolutely
declined spirituous refreshment at the neighboring Palmetto Saloon,
and declared his intention of proceeding directly to his office in the
adjoining square. Nevertheless the Colonel quitted the building alone,
and apparently unarmed except for his faithful gold-headed stick,
which hung as usual from his forearm. The crowd gazed after him with
undisguised admiration of this new evidence of his pluck. It was
remembered also that a mysterious note had been handed to him at the
conclusion of his speech--evidently a challenge from the State
Attorney. It was quite plain that the Colonel--a practised
duellist--was hastening home to answer it.
But herein they were wrong. The note was in a female hand, and simply
requested the Colonel to accord an interview with the writer at the
Colonel's office as soon as he left the court.
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