"
Armitage's eyes glittered and his voice faltered with intensity as he
uttered these last words. Then he thrust his hand into his coat pocket,
stepped back, and concluded:
"Who am I, Monsieur?"
Chauvenet shifted uneasily from one foot to another under the gaze of the
five people who waited for his answer; then he screamed shrilly:
"You are the devil--an impostor, a liar, a thief!"
Baron von Marhof leaped to his feet and roared at Chauvenet in English:
"Who is this man? Whom do you believe him to be?"
"Answer and be quick about it!" snapped Claiborne.
"I tell you"--began Chauvenet fiercely.
"_Who am I_?" asked Armitage again.
"I don't know who you are--"
"You do not! You certainly do not!" laughed Armitage; "but whom have you
believed me to be, Monsieur?"
"I thought--"
"Yes; you thought--"
"I thought--there seemed reasons to believe--"
"Yes; and you believe it; go on!"
Chauvenet's eyes blinked for a moment as he considered the difficulties
of his situation. The presence of Baron von Marhof sobered him. America
might not, after all, be so safe a place from which to conduct an Old
World conspiracy, and this incident must, if possible, be turned to his
own account.
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