er!" echoed Brant quickly.

"Yes, sir."

"Search him again," said Brant quietly. He had recovered his usual
coolness, and as the captain again examined the body, he took out his
tablets and wrote a few lines. It was an order to search the quarters
of Lieutenant Wainwright and bring all papers, letters, and documents to
him. He then beckoned one of the detail towards him. "Take that to the
provost marshal at once. Well, Captain," he added calmly, as the officer
again approached him, "what do you find?"

"Only this, sir," returned the captain, with a half smile, producing a
small photograph. "I suppose it was overlooked, too."

He handed it to Brant.

There was a sudden fixing of his commanding officer's eyes, but his face
did not otherwise change.

"It's the usual find, General. Always a photograph! But this time a
handsome woman!"

"Very," said Clarence Brant quietly. It was the portrait of his own
wife.

CHAPTER II.

Nevertheless, so complete was his control of voice and manner that, as
he rode on to his quarters, no one would have dreamed that General Brant
had just looked upon the likeness of the wife from whom he had parted in
anger four years ago. Still less would they have suspected the strange
fear that came upon him that in some way she was connected with the
treachery he had just discovered. He had heard from her only once, and
then through her late husband's lawyer, in regard to her Californian
property, and believed that she had gone to her relations in Alabama,
where she had identified herself with the Southern cause, even to the
sacrifice of her private fortune. He had heard her name mentioned in the
Southern press as a fascinating society leader, and even coadjutrix
of Southern politicians,--but he had no reason to believe that she had
taken so active or so desperate a part in the struggle. He tried to
think that his uneasiness sprang from his recollection of the previous
treachery of Captain Pinckney, and the part that she had played in the
Californian conspiracy, although he had long since acquitted her of the
betrayal of any nearer trust. But there was a fateful similarity in
the two cases. There was no doubt that this Lieutenant Wainwright was
a traitor in the camp,--that he had succumbed to the usual sophistry of
his class in regard to his superior allegiance to his native State. But
was there the inducement of another emotion, or was the photograph only
the souvenir of a fascinati