"Miss!" cried the astonished inn-keeper.
Capitola distinctly repeated her words and then, leaving the
inn-keeper, transfixed with consternation, she crossed the street and
entered a magistrate's office, where a little, old gentleman, with a
pair of green spectacles resting on his hooked nose, sat at a
writing-table, giving some directions to a constable, who was standing
hat in hand before him.
Capitola waited until this functionary had his orders and a written
paper, and had left the office, and the magistrate was alone, before
she walked up to the desk and stood before him.
"Well, well, young woman! Well, well, what do you want?" inquired the
old gentleman, impatiently looking up from folding his papers.
"I have come to give myself up for shooting Craven Le Noir, who
slandered me," answered Capitola, quietly.
The old man let fall his hands full of papers, raised his head and
stared at her over the tops of his green spectacles.
"What did you say, young woman?" he asked, in the tone of one who
doubted his own ears.
"I say that I have forestalled an arrest by coming here to give myself
up for the shooting of a dastard who slandered, insulted and refused to
give me satisfaction," answered Capitola, very distinctly.
"Am I awake? Do I hear aright? Do you mean to say that you have killed
a man?" asked the dismayed magistrate.
"Oh, I can't say as to the killing! I shot him off his horse and then
sent Mr. Merry and his men to pick him up, while I came here to answer
for myself!"
"Unfortunate girl! And how can you answer for such a dreadful deed?"
exclaimed the utterly confounded magistrate.
"Oh, as to the dreadfulness of the deed, that depends on
circumstances," said Cap, "and I can answer for it very well! He made
addresses to me. I refused him. He slandered me. I challenged him. He
insulted me. I shot him!"
"Miserable young woman, if this be proved true, I shall have to commit
you!"
"Just as you please," said Cap, "but bless your soul, that won't help
Craven Le Noir a single bit!"
As she spoke several persons entered the office in a state of high
excitement--all talking at once, saying: "That is the girl!"
"Yes, that is her!"
"She is Miss Black, old Warfield's niece."
"Yes, he said she was," etc., etc., etc.
"What is all this, neighbors, what is all this?" inquired the troubled
magistrate, rising in his place.