ed to Mister
Loot'nt James Doyle, Lite Bothery X, Jaxun Barx, and brought the only
laughter to his lips the big horse-artilleryman had known for nearly a
week. Her customary Mercury, Dawson, had vanished from sight, dropped,
with many another and often a better man, as a deserter.

Over at Waring's abandoned quarters the shades were drawn and the green
_jalousies_ bolted. Pierce stole in each day to see that everything,
even to the augmented heap of letters, was undisturbed, and Ananias
drooped in the court below and refused to be comforted. Cram had duly
notified Waring's relatives, now living in New York, of his strange and
sudden disappearance, but made no mention of the cloud of suspicion
which had surrounded his name. Meantime, some legal friends of the
family were overhauling the Lascelles papers, and a dark-complexioned,
thick-set, active little civilian was making frequent trips between
department head-quarters and barracks. At the former he compared notes
with Lieutenant Reynolds, and at the latter with Braxton and Cram. The
last interview Mr. Allerton had before leaving with his family for the
North was with this same lively party, the detective who joined them
that night at the St. Charles, and Allerton, being a man of much
substance, had tapped his pocket-book significantly.

"The difficulty just now is in having a talk with the widow," said this
official to Cram and Reynolds, whom he had met by appointment on the
Thursday following the eventful Saturday of Braxton's "combined" review.
"She is too much prostrated. I've simply got to wait awhile, and
meantime go about this other affair. Is there no way in which you can
see her?"

Cram relapsed into a brown study. Reynolds was poring over the note
written to Braxton and comparing it with one he held in his hand,--an
old one, and one that told an old, old story. "I know you'll say I have
no right to ask this," it read, "but you're a gentleman, and I'm a
friendless woman deserted by a worthless husband. My own people are
ruined by the war, but even if they had money they wouldn't send any to
me, for I offended them all by marrying a Yankee officer. God knows I am
punished enough for that. But I was so young and innocent when he
courted me. I ought to of left--I would of left him as soon as I found
out how good-for-nothing he really was, only I was so much in love I
couldn't. I was fastenated, I suppose. Now I've sold everything, but if
you'll only lend me fif