"Good," answered me my beloved Gouverneur Faulkner. Then he laid his
hand upon my shoulder as we stood together in the dimness out from the
rays of the light. "There is something in your eyes, Robert, that
renews my faith in the truths of--of life. I'm going out into the
wilderness on a grave mission whose result may shake down some houses
of--of cards, but because of your being with me I feel as if I were
starting off on a picnic or a day's fishing at the age of ten. Now,
I'll hurry." And as he spoke my Gouverneur Faulkner made a start in
the direction of his room for the bath.
"Is it that I may begin the packing of your bag for you, Your
Excellency, before I go for those necessities of my own?" I asked of
him.
"Won't be time for you to go home, boy," he answered me, looking at a
clock upon the mantel over his large fireplace. "You are still in your
evening clothes, I see. But that's easy: you climb into that pink coat
and a pair of those corduroy trousers of mine you see hanging in my
dressing room. I haven't hunted for two years but they are still
there. Put linen in that saddlebag on the shelf for us both out of the
drawers in the old chest over there. Take heavy socks to go under the
leggings. You'd better put on a flannel shirt, too, and take an extra
one for both of us. We'll travel light. I'll only be in the bath a
couple of minutes." With which assurance he entered the room of the
bath and closed the door upon me.
"_Mon Dieu_, Roberta, Marquise of Grez and Bye!" was all that I
allowed myself to exclaim as I made a very quick rush for that
dressing room, switched on the light, flung off my coat, seized a pair
of corduroy riding breeches that hung in a corner beside another pair,
discarded my own of broadcloth and struggled with both of my legs the
same moment into them. Then in a hurry as great as I shall ever know I
discovered a gray flannel shirt in a drawer of the very tall old
mahogany chest and inserted myself into that with an equal rapidity. A
wide leather belt made the two very large garments secure around my
waist and I again allowed breath to come into my lungs. I then opened
a very queer bag which I knew to be for a saddle, that was upon a
shelf in the dressing room, and began to put things into it according
to directions of the Gouverneur Faulkner. The other pair of those
riding breeches I laid with another of the flannel shirts in a great
conspicuousness upon a chair in the bedroom directly in front of the
door from the dressing room.
"We're going to make a record get-away, boy," said that Gouverneur
Faulkner to me as in a few minutes he came, clothed in those riding
trousers and that flannel shirt, to the door of his dressing room,
where I was just making a finish of putting needful clothing into his
bag. "You'll find the other things we need in the bathroom. Put it all
in while I get together a few papers I want. We can start now in two
minutes."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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