"Oh, the General, the General, Bronson," she had said. "We've got to
go after him."
She was shaking with the dread of it, and Bronson had said, "Hadn't you
better wait, ma'am?"
"I mustn't. We stopped at the hotel as we came by, and he said he
would run in and get a New York paper. And we waited, and we waited,
and he didn't come out again, and at last I sent McChesney in, and he
couldn't find him. And then I went and sat in the corridor, thinking
he might pass through. It isn't pleasant to sit alone in the corridor
with the men--staring at you--at night. And then I asked the man at
the door if he had seen him, and he said, 'yes,' that he had called a
cab, and then I came home."
They had gone out again together, with Bronson, who was young and
strong, taking the place of the coachman, McChesney, because Mrs. Drake
did not care to have the other servants see her husband at times like
these. "You know how good he is," had been her timid claim on him from
the first, "and you know how hard he tries." And because Bronson knew,
and because he had helped her like the faithful squire that he was, she
had trusted him more and more with this important but secret business.
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