To pass the night under the same roof with a man who intends to murder
you is anything but pleasant, and repose under the circumstance, is next
to impossible. I slept but little, and the little sleep I did obtain
was not tranquil.
Before retiring for the night, I had seen nothing of the Ringgolds,
neither father nor son; but I knew they were still in the fort, where
they were to remain as guests a day or two longer. They had either gone
to bed before my return, or were entertained in the quarters of some
friendly officer. At all events, they did not appear to me during the
remainder of the night.
Neither saw I aught of Spence and Williams. These worthies, if in the
fort, would find a lodgment among the soldiers, but I did not seek them.
Most of the night I lay awake, pondering on the strange incidents of the
day, or rather upon that one episode that had made me acquainted with
such deadly enemies.
I was in a state of sad perplexity as to what course I should pursue--
uncertain all night long; and when daylight shone through the shutters,
still uncertain.
My first impulse had been to disclose the whole affair at head-quarters,
and demand an investigation--a punishment.
On reflection, this course would not do. What proofs could I offer of
so grave an accusation? Only my own assertions, unbacked by any other
evidence--unsustained even by probability--for who would have given
credence to crime so unparalleled in atrocity?
Though certain the assassins referred to me, I could not assert that
they had even mentioned my name. My story would be treated with
ridicule, myself perhaps with something worse. The Ringgolds were
mighty men--personal friends both of the general and commissioner--and
though known to be a little scoundrelly and unscrupulous in worldly
affairs, still holding the rank of gentlemen. It would need better
evidence than I could offer to prove Arens Ringgold a would-be murderer.