The two were still closeted, when a second visitor called, and was
told that his Excellency could not be disturbed. The second visitor,
however, was so insistent that the secretary finally consented to take
in the card. After a glance at it, his chief ordered admission.
The door opened, and Captain Callomb entered.
He was now in civilian clothes, with portentous news written on his
face. He paused in annoyance at the sight of a second figure standing
with back turned at the window. Then Samson wheeled, and the two men
recognized each other. They had met before only when one was in olive
drab; the other in jeans and butternut. At recognition, Callomb's face
fell, and grew troubled.
"You here, South!" he exclaimed. "I thought you promised me that I
shouldn't find you. God knows I didn't want to meet you."
"Nor I you," Samson spoke slowly. "I supposed you'd be raking the
hills."
Neither of them was for the moment paying the least attention to the
Governor, who stood quietly looking on.
"I sent Merriwether out there," explained Callomb, impatiently. "I
wanted to come here before it was too late. God knows, South, I
wouldn't have had this meeting occur for anything under heaven. It
leaves me no choice. You are indicted on two counts, each charging you
with murder." The officer took a step toward the center of the room.
His face was weary, and his eyes wore the deep disgust and fatigue that
come from the necessity of performing a hard duty.
"You are under arrest," he added quietly, but his composure broke as
he stormed. "Now, by God, I've got to take you back and let them murder
you, and you're the one man who might have been useful to the State."