hes contained other unpleasant matters of a totally
different nature, with which Sir Terence must proceed to deal at once;
but their gravity was completely outweighed in the adjutant's mind by
this deplorable affair of Lieutenant Butler's. Without wishing to convey
an impression that the blunt and downright O'Moy was gifted with any
undue measure of shrewdness, it must nevertheless be said that he was
quick to perceive what fresh thorns the occurrence was likely to throw
in a path that was already thorny enough in all conscience, what
a semblance of justification it must give to the hostility of the
intriguers on the Council of Regency, what a formidable weapon it must
place in the hands of Principal Souza and his partisans. In itself this
was enough to trouble a man in O'Moy's position. But there was more.
Lieutenant Butler happened to be his brother-in-law, own brother to
O'Moy's lovely, frivolous wife. Irresponsibility ran strongly in that
branch of the Butler family.

For the sake of the young wife whom he loved with a passionate and
fearful jealousy such as is not uncommon in a man of O'Moy's temperament
when at his age--he was approaching his forty-sixth birthday--he marries
a girl of half his years, the adjutant had pulled his brother-in-law out
of many a difficulty; shielded him on many an occasion from the proper
consequences of his incurable rashness.

This affair of the convent, however, transcended anything that had gone
before and proved altogether too much for O'Moy. It angered him as much
as it afflicted him. Yet when he took his head in his hands and groaned,
it was only his sorrow that he was expressing, and it was a sorrow
entirely concerned with his wife.

The groan attracted the attention of his military secretary, Captain
Tremayne, of Fletcher's Engineers, who sat at work at a littered
writing-table placed in the window recess. He looked up sharply, sudden
concern in the strong young face and the steady grey eyes he bent upon
his chief. The sight of O'Moy's hunched attitude brought him instantly
to his feet.

"Whatever is the matter, sir?"

"It's that damned fool Richard," growled O'Moy. "He's broken out again."

The captain looked relieved. "And is that all?"

O'Moy looked at him, white-faced, and in his blue eyes a blaze of that
swift passion that had made his name a byword in the army.

"All?" he roared. "You'll say it's enough, by God, when you hear what
the fool's been at this time. Vi