he ever induce an officer and a gentleman to believe that he was no instigator in this matter?—­that it was all Buxton’s doing, Buxton’s low imagination that had conceived the possibility of such a crime on the part of Mr. Hayne, and Buxton’s blundering, bull-headed abuse of authority that had capped the fatal climax?  It was some time before his wife could get him to speak at all.  She was hysterically bemoaning the fate that had brought them into contact with such people, and from time to time giving vent to the comforting assertion that never had there been a cloud on their domestic or regimental sky until that wretch had been assigned to the Riflers.  She knew from the hurried and guarded explanations of Dr. Grimes and one or two young officers who helped Rayner home that the fracas had occurred at Mr. Hayne’s,—­that there had been a mistake for which her husband was not responsible, but that Captain Buxton was entirely to blame.  But her husband’s ashen face told her a story of something far deeper:  she knew that now he was involved in fearful trouble, and, whatever may have been her innermost thoughts, it was the first and irresistible impulse to throw all the blame upon her scapegoat.  Miss Travers, almost as pale and quite as silent as the captain, was busying herself in helping her sister; but she could with difficulty restrain her longing to bid her be silent.  She, too, had endeavored to learn from her escort on their hurried homeward rush across the parade what the nature of the disturbance had been.  She, too, had suggested Clancy, but the officer by her side set his teeth as he replied that he wished it had been Clancy.  She had heard, too, the message brought by a cavalry trumpeter from Mr. Blake:  he wanted Captain Ray to come to Mr. Hayne’s as soon as he had seen Mrs. Ray safely home, and would he please ask Mrs. Stannard to come with him at the same time?  Why should Mr. Blake want Mrs. Stannard at Mr. Hayne’s?  She saw Mr. Foster run up and speak a few words to Mrs. Waldron, and heard that lady reply, “Certainly.  I will go with you now.”  What could it mean?  At last, as she was returning to her sister’s room after a moment’s absence, she heard a question at which her heart stood still.  It was Mrs. Rayner who asked,—­

“But the creature was there, was she not?”

The answer sounded more like a moan of anguish: 

“The creature was his sister.  It was her husband who—­”

But, as Captain Rayner buried his battered face in his hands at this juncture, the rest of the sentence was inaudible.  Miss Travers had heard quite enough, however.  She stood there one moment, appalled, dropped upon the floor the bandage she had been making, turned and sought her room, and was seen no more that night.