"And perhaps," she added, "it is just as well that
there are."
Holcombe trotted after her in some concern. "I wonder what she means?"
he said. "I wonder if I were rude?"
The pig-sticking ended with a long luncheon before the ride back to
town, at which everything that could be eaten or drunk was put on the
table, in order, as Meakim explained, that there would be less to
carry back. He met Holcombe that same evening after the cavalcade had
reached Tangier as the latter came down the stairs of the Albion.
Holcombe was in fresh raiment and cleanly shaven, and with the radiant
air of one who had had his first comfortable bath in a week.
Meakim confronted him with a smiling countenance. "Who do you think
come to-night on the mail-boat?" he asked.
"I don't know. Who?"
"Winthrop Allen, with six trunks," said Meakim, with the triumphant
air of one who brings important news.
"No, really now," said Holcombe, laughing. "The old hypocrite! I
wonder what he'll say when he sees me. I wish I could stay over
another boat, just to remind him of the last time we met. What a fraud
he is! It was at the club, and he was congratulating me on my noble
efforts in the cause of justice, and all that sort of thing. He said I
was a public benefactor. And at that time he must have already
speculated away about half of what he had stolen of other people's
money. I'd like to tease him about it."
"What trial was that?" asked Meakim.
Holcombe laughed and shook his head as he moved on down the stairs.
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