punction. And then there was another excitement, that set all tongues
wagging. Every man had heard what Chester said, that Mr. Jerrold must
not quit the garrison until he had first come and seen the temporary
commanding officer, and Hall had speedily carried the news to his
friend.

"Are _you_ ready to go?" asked Mr. Jerrold, who was lacing his boots in
the rear room.

"No. I've got to go and get into 'cits' first."

"All right. Go, and be lively! I'll wait for you at Murphy's, beyond the
bridge, provided you say nothing about it."

"You don't mean you are going against orders?"

"Going? Of course I am. I've got old Maynard's permission, and if
Chester means to revoke it he's got to get his adjutant here inside of
ten seconds. What you tell me isn't official. I'm off _now_!"

And when the adjutant returned to Captain Chester it was with the
information that he was too late: Mr. Jerrold's dog-cart had crossed
the bridge five minutes earlier.

Perhaps an hour later the colonel sent for Chester, and the captain went
to his house. The old soldier was pacing slowly up and down the parlor
floor.

"I wanted you a moment. A singular thing has happened. You know that
'Directoire' cabinet photo of Alice? My wife always kept it on her
dressing-table, and this morning it's gone. That frame--the silver
filigree thing--was found behind a sofa-pillow in Alice's room, and she
declares she has no idea how it got there. Chester, is there any new
significance in this?"

The captain bowed assent.

"What is it?"

"That photograph was seen by Major Sloat in Jerrold's bureau-drawer at
reveille this morning."

And such was the situation at Sibley the August day the colonel took his
wife and her lovely daughter to visit Aunt Grace at Lake Sablon.

VIII.

In the big red omnibus that was slowly toiling over the dusty road
several passengers were making their way from the railway-station to the
hotel at Lake Sablon. Two of them were women of mature years, whose
dress and bearing betokened lives of ease and comfort; another was a
lovely brunette of less than twenty, the daughter, evidently, of one of
these ladies, and an object of loving pride to both. These three seemed
at home in their surroundings, and were absorbed in the packet of
letters and papers they had just received at the station. It was evident
that they were not new arrivals, as were the other passengers, who
studied them with the half-envious feelings with