"
Claiborne turned to the table with the envelope. It was not sealed, and
he took out the plain sheet of notepaper on which was written:
CABLEGRAM
WlNKELRIED, VIENNA.
Not later than Friday.
CHAUVENET.
Claiborne read and re-read these eight words; then he spoke bluntly to
Oscar.
"Where did you get this?"
"From the hat of the sheep-stealer up yonder."
"Who is he and where did he get it?"
"I don't know, sir. 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.
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