could not well seek his advice without telling of the
other thefts of which he believed Mr. Holmes to know nothing, and yet
he felt that as commanding officer it was his duty to say to the
visitor how much he regretted the occurrence and how earnestly he was
striving to discover the offender. But Holmes would not give him a
chance. He was doing a little ferreting on his own account.

As for the doctor, two things had conspired to make him blue and
unhappy. Miss Forrest was up and out on her gallery, as has been said,
but was never in her sister's room when the doctor called; declined his
professional services with courteous thanks and the assurance that no
physician was necessary, yet begged to be excused when he sent a
message by Celestine asking if she would not see him. Then he wrote her
a note, and, remembering her antipathy to the mulatto girl, he sent it
by Robert, charging him to take it to her door if she was not in the
sitting-room, but to deliver it in person and wait for an answer.
Robert found her promenading with Mrs. Post on the upper gallery, and
people who had been saying that Mrs. Post had nothing to do with her at
Robinson were surprised at the growing intimacy between them now.
Robert presented the note with a grave and courtly Virginia bow, then
withdrew to a little distance and respectfully awaited her answer. Over
at the Gordons' a group of ladies, old and young, watched the scene
with curious and speculative eyes. Everybody knew that Miss Forrest had
declined to see Dr. Bayard during her illness. Everybody had noted
that, while the entire feminine element of the garrison flocked to
inquire for Nellie in her invalid state, nobody went to see Fanny
Forrest. Now, what could this strange girl be doing with letters from
"Dr. Chesterfield"? Even Mrs. Post watched her narrowly as she
hurriedly read the lines of the doctor's elegant missive. Her eyes
seemed to dilate, her color heightened and a little frown set itself
darkly on her brow; but she looked up brightly after a moment's
thought, and spoke kindly and pleasantly to the waiting messenger,--

"There is no answer, at least not now, Robert. Thank the doctor and
tell him I am very much better."

And so, empty-handed, he returned to his master, who waited expectant
in his study. The message was almost an affront,--such was his pride
and self-esteem; and for nearly an hour he sat there pondering over the
strange characteristics of the girl who, despit