a grim smile.

"Oh, well, of course, sir, I'm not going to deny it. But you see,"
continued the Sergeant, his pride being touched, "he had known her
down East--worked on her father's farm--young gentleman--fresh from
college--culture, you know, manner--style and that sort of thing--rushed
her clean off her feet."

"I thought you said it was Cameron who was the one hard hit?"

"So it was, sir. Hadn't seen her for a couple of years or so. Left her a
country lass, uncouth, ignorant--at least so they say."

"Who say?"

"Well, her friends--Dr. Martin and the nurse at the hospital. But I
can't believe them, simply impossible. That this girl two years
ago should have been an ignorant, clumsy, uncouth country lass is
impossible. However, Cameron came on her here, transfigured, glorified
so to speak, consequently fell over neck in love, went quite batty in
fact. A secret flame apparently smoldering all these months suddenly
burst into a blaze--a blaze, by Jove!--regular conflagration. And no
wonder, sir, when you look at her, her face, her form, her style--"

"Oh, come, Sergeant, we'll move on. Let's keep at the business in hand.
The question is what's to do. That old snake Copperhead is three hundred
miles from here on the Sun Dance, plotting hell for this country, and
we want him. As you say, Cameron's our man. I wonder," continued the
Superintendent after a pause, "I wonder if we could get him."

"I should say certainly not!" replied the Sergeant promptly. "He's only
a few months married, sir."

"He might," mused the Superintendent, "if it were properly put to him.
It would be a great thing for the Service. He's the man. By the Lord
Harry, he's the only man! In short," with a resounding whack upon his
thigh, "he has got to come. The situation is too serious for trifling."

"Trifling?" said the Sergeant to himself in undertone.

"We'll go for him. We'll send for him." The Superintendent turned and
glanced at his companion.

"Not me, sir, I hope. You can quite see, sir, I'd be a mighty poor
advocate. Couldn't face those blue eyes, sir. They make me grow quite
weak. Chills and fever--in short, temporary delirium."

"Oh, well, Sergeant," replied the Superintendent, "if it's as bad as
that--"

"You don't know her, sir. Those eyes! They can burn in blue flame or
melt in--"

"Oh, yes, yes, I've no doubt." The Superintendent's voice had a touch of
pity, if not contempt. "We won't expose you, Sergeant. But all the s