第 15 页

Despite her start at Miller's appearance at the door, despite his preoccupation and gloom, which several glasses of the doctor's good wine failed to dissipate, Miss Forrest remained after a brief visit to

the invalid up-stairs and, saying that she had promised Nellie, sang to them witchingly again and again.

But that night, despatches flashed in from Fetterman that gave the major another turn. The telegraph

operator himself came running up with the message just as the party at the doctor's (considerably augmented by this time by new-comers drawn thither by Miss Forrest's voice) was breaking up for the night.

Indians had appeared in great numbers along the North Platte, threatening the road connecting the two posts, and a train had been attacked and burned midway between them. Terry and his hard-worked Grays were

ready in an hour to take the trail, but there were no young gallants to ride forth this time. Hatton, indeed, offered his services, but was told he could not be spared. Morning brought tidings that the war-

parties were seen only seven miles away at sunrise; and in the presence of the common foe the major, for the time being, put aside the matter weighing so heavily on his mind, but not for a moment could he

forget her startled face as he threw open that door. It was time indeed to look the situation squarely through and through. It might be necessary to send for Forrest.

Another day brought with it a strong

column of cavalry hastening up from the railway at Cheyenne, and these troops were to be fully provided with rations and ammunition before setting forth toward the Black Hills, whither they were ordered. It

was bustle and business for everybody. The major said no more to Hatton on the subject of the interrupted interview; but on the second day, as McLean was lying languidly in his bed, listening to the sounds

of hoofs and heels without, and bemoaning his fate that he was to be bedridden here when such stirring times were ahead, his soldier servant came noiselessly to ask the lieutenant's permission to step out a

little while to see some friends in the cavalry. The attendant was seated in the front room, so the permission was readily granted.

"Is there anything the lieutenant wants, sir, before I go?"

"Nothing

except a handkerchief. Give me one of those silk ones in this corner of the drawer. They are softer."

The man handed the topmost of the pile, and went noiselessly away. McLean shook it open, and a card

dropped out upon the coverlet. Surprised, he picked it up and slowly read it, perplexity and then symptoms of annoyance showing plainly in his face. Twice--thrice he read it through. Then, stowing it under

his pillow, he began to think.

Dr. Weeks came in before a great while to renew the dressing on his wound, and asked him if he had not been talking too much.

"I haven't been talking at all. Why do you

ask?"

"Pulse a little quicker than it was. What have you been doing?"

"Nothing--to speak of. What is there to do but read and think?"

"You mustn't get to fretting because you can't go out with every

expedition, Mac. We all know you'd like it, but you can't have your pie and eat it. You can't get shot in one fight and expect to get into the next. If you'll keep quiet here, I think I can put you in saddle

again in a month,--much quicker than I can poor Blunt; but you must be patient, especially now that you'll miss Hatton. He goes out with the train-guard to-night."

"Hatton! To-night?" exclaimed the

invalid.

"There you go again, Mac! What a bundle of tow you are, to be sure; I might just as soon touch a match to a magazine."

"Doctor, tell Hatton I want him,--must see him before he goes."

"Confound

it, man, I told him to keep away. Why do you want him?"

"Because I must see him. You'll have a crazy man on your hands if you don't." And Weeks decided it best to let this headstrong Highlander have his

way.

That night, in his field-dress and all ready to start, Hatton gently came to his comrade's bed-side.

"What is it, old man?" he asked. "Weeks told me first to slip away without saying good-by,--I'll

only be gone a week,--and then hunted me up and said you wanted to see me."

McLean looked out in the front room.

"Send that man away for a while," he said.

"Now for it," groaned Hatton, between his

teeth. "Something new, and he's got hold of it. How in heaven am I to keep my story to myself?"

Obediently at a word from Hatton, the hospital attendant took his cap and stepped outside. Then McLean put

forth his hand and took that of the senior lieutenant.

"Hat, you and I have been good friends, haven't we?"

"Always, Mac."

"I've something to ask you. Something I must know. You remember the night we

burned that handkerchief?"

"I should say so."

"Have you ever seen--have you ever known of her ever being in here--or around here since?"

Hatton hesitated.

"Tell me, Hat."

"I can't tell you, Mac.

There's been the devil to pay. Some other things stolen. Miller's got hold of it, and, old man, I'm thankful I'm going, for I'd have to tell what we know."

"Great God! and Forrest two weeks' march away,--

least count! See here, Hat! To-day I found something among my handkerchiefs--in a missing one that was returned. Do you know how it got there?"

"Yes," slowly. "She herself gave it to me and asked me to put

it there."

"You don't mean it! How could she, without exciting more suspicion? She must have known it would only make you connect her with what had happened here."

"Mac,--old man; it's no use! I can't

keep it back from you. Why! She was reckless of anything I might think. It has gone far beyond suspicion. It is certainty. She was on the watch the night Miller came here for me. It was her dress--her steps

you heard in the hall. It may be kleptomania,--God knows; but whatever it is, she threw off all disguise. She listened to Miller's orders that I should come to him at tattoo; and then, the moment he was

gone, down she flew to where I stood there at the door, and implored me, Mac, as I would save her from disgrace and ruin not to go--not to tell him."

"And she was not out of her mind?"

"She is as sane as

you or I, Mac, except on that one thing."

XIII.

For several days after Hatton's sudden departure Lieutenant McLean was worse. High fever had set in, and Dr. Weeks hardly knew how to account for it.

Mrs. Miller, kind soul, had begged to be allowed to come over and help nurse him, and was more than perplexed when, having easily obtained the approval of the post surgeon, she was met by a most embarrassed

but earnest negative on the part of his assistant. As Weeks was in charge of the case, Dr. Bayard's sense of professional etiquette would not permit of his opposing his junior in the matter, but did not

prevent his expressing himself as surprised and annoyed at what he termed a slight to the wife of the commanding officer. The lady herself could not refrain from telling her husband and making some trenchant

criticisms at the expense of the younger physician; and, as a result of her remarks, Old Miller decided to do a thing to which, hitherto, he had always declared himself averse,--namely, to require of his

surgical staff a defence of their policy in the matter. He would not do this formally or officially, but he meant to ask Dr. Bayard at once what possible objection there could be to Mrs. Miller's looking in

on the young officer and doing what she could to promote his comfort. She was welcome to go to Blunt's bedside, she told him, and Mr. Blunt's wounds were of a more severe character than those of the young

infantryman, whom she was virtually forbidden to see.

Miller's honest heart was filled full of perplexities and cares at this time, and the best of men are apt to be a trifle irritable under such

conditions. His brow was moody and his step more energetic than usual, as he sallied forth in search of his senior surgeon, this bright sunshiny morning. No one was on the Bayards' piazza, but the front door

was open, and, hearing subdued voices in the parlor, he ventured to step inside and tap at the inner door which also stood ajar. It was at once thrown wide open by Janet Bruce, whose bonnie face lighted up

with pleasure at sight of him; she had always been a favorite of his from the days when she was a romping maid in short dresses.

"Why, Major Miller! Come right in. Nellie will be so glad to see you."

"What! Is Nellie here?" he asked, and stepping into the parlor, the gloom vanishing from his face at sight of those smiling eyes, he marched over to the sofa where Elinor lay, holding forth to him a white

and fragile hand.

"Why, bless your heart, little lady! I'm rejoiced to see you down-stairs again," he cheerily said. "We've all been in the dumps ever since you were taken ill and remanded to bed. And now

I suppose you and Janet here have been condoling with each other. With McLean invalided and Hatton on the war-path, I fear me you two young women have been indulging in tears. Hah! Blushing? Well, well, I

only wish I were Mac or Hatton either. Enviable fellows, both of them, to have two such pretty girls in mourning for their mishaps. But all the same, don't you lose your hearts to those boys; neither of 'em

is worth it." And the major chuckled at the idea of being quizzical and arch.

"Indeed, Major Miller," retorted Miss Bruce, with reddening cheeks and spirited mien. "We're not in mourning at all, though I'm

not a whit ashamed of my anxiety about our friends; but as for calling them boys, Mr. Hatton is ten years older than you were when you were married,--Mrs. Miller told me so,--and Mr. McLean has been too many

years in the service to be spoken of disparagingly. Have you heard how he is this morning?" she asked, with a sudden change from rebuke to anxious inquiry, flashing a quick glance at his half-averted face as

she questioned.

"Not for two hours. I had hoped to find Dr. Bayard here. Do you know where he is, Miss Nellie?"

"He said he was going to the hospital, major," was the hesitant reply, "but I think he

stopped at Bedlam,--at Mrs. Forrest's, perhaps."

"Ah--yes, I remember. Mrs. Forrest does not get well rapidly. Has Miss Forrest been over to see you since you came down-stairs?"

"She called, but papa had

desired me to keep very quiet. Janet was reading to me, and she went to the door and saw her."

The major decided to press the question no further. Something in the manner of both girls told him the subject

was hardly congenial. He remained a few moments chatting with them, and noted with paternal solicitude the languor and lack of interest in Nellie Bayard's drooping eyes and the unmistakable signs of anxiety

and trouble in her sweet face. "My wife is right," he muttered to himself; "she always is, in such things at least,"--for with masculine perversity he could not vouchsafe a sweeping verdict as to a woman's

infallibility. "There is small chance here for Holmes," he mentally added. "I only wish young McLean were out of his troubles." And the doctor's hearty voice was heard without, and the tread of feet, and the

next moment Bayard was in the hall-way eagerly welcoming a visitor. Miller saw the glance that passed between the girls and the instant cloud of distress that overspread Nellie's face. It was Roswell Holmes

again.

"Why! When did you get back?" exclaimed the major, rising. "We had no idea of this. I supposed you would go direct to Cheyenne from the ranch."

"It was my intention, major," answered Mr. Holmes,

with grave courtesy, "but letters I received made it preferable that I should come back here, and the doctor kindly gives me an abiding-place. Excuse me," and he passed the major by and went on and bent over

the sofa and took Miss Bayard's hand and greeted her with tender intonation in every word, even while he bowed pleasantly to Miss Bruce.

"Quite a surprise, wasn't it?" asked Dr. Bayard from the door-way.

"Major, I'm glad to see you here this morning, and no doubt Nellie welcomed you, though she isn't able to play the hostess just yet. We'll have her up and about in a day or two, though. Holmes, old fellow,

you can safely hang your traps in the hall now. I've had that latch tinkered up since the night--the night of the dinner. Whoever opened it that night will get fooled on it the next time he tries. I had

quite a row with Robert about it, and the conceit was taken out of him not a little."

"Why, how was this, doctor?" asked Miller, with immediate interest. "I had not heard. Are there--have there been any

new developments?" And lowering his voice as he asked, the major drew the post surgeon into the hall-way.

"Nothing of consequence, major. Of course we all felt uncomfortable when it was known that Holmes

had lost a porte-monnaie from his overcoat-pocket as it hung here on the rack that night. Though he protests there was nothing in it, the thing might have been serious. You remember you thought the hall-door

had been opened during our dinner. I believe I was telling some story or other at the time,--bad habit of mine,--and we sent Robert out to look. He came back and said it was tight shut, and couldn't have

been open, because he had fixed it so that the latch could not be turned from outside. But Holmes showed us next day that it could be."

"Then you think it had been tampered with,--that some garrison sneak

-thief had got in?"

"Well, that's what Holmes says and what Robert stoutly maintains, though you can't see a scratch or a mark or anything to indicate that such means had been used. No, major," and the

doctor shook his head ominiously. "I--I have another theory, but it's one too shadowy, too unsubstantial to speak of. It is nothing but suspicion."