“Well, Chester, I will haul him up after breakfast.  Possibly he had been up to the rifle-camp, or had driven to town after the doctor’s party.  Of course that must be stopped; but I’m glad you missed him.  It, of course, staggers a man’s judgment to be knocked down, but if you had killed him it might have been as serious for you as this knock-down blow will be for him.  That is the worst phase of the matter.  What could he have been thinking of?  He must have been either drunk or mad; and he rarely drank.  Oh, dear, dear, dear, but that’s very bad,—­very bad,—­striking the officer of the day!  Why, Chester, that’s the worst thing that’s happened in the regiment since I took command of it.  It’s about the worst thing that could have happened to us.  Of course he must go in arrest.  I’ll see the adjutant right after breakfast.  I’ll be over early, Chester.”  And with grave and worried face the colonel bade him adieu.

As he turned away, Chester heard him saying again to himself, “About the worst thing he could have done!—­the worst thing he could have done!” And the captain’s heart sank within him.  What would the colonel say when he knew how far, far worse was the foul wrong Mr. Jerrold had done to him and his?

VII.

Before guard-mounting—­almost half an hour before his usual time for appearing at the office—­Colonel Maynard hurried in to his desk, sent the orderly for Captain Chester, and then the clerks in the sergeant-major’s room heard him close and lock the door.  As the subject of the shooting was already under discussion among the men there assembled, this action on the part of the chief was considered highly significant.  It was hardly five minutes before Chester came, looked surprised at finding the door locked, knocked, and was admitted.

The look on the haggard face at the desk, the dumb misery in the eyes, the wrath and horror in it all, carried him back twenty years to that gloomy morning in the casemates when the story was passed around that Captain Maynard had lost a wife and an intimate friend during the previous night.  Chester saw at a glance that, despite his precautions, the blow had come, the truth been revealed at one fell swoop.

“Lock the door again, Chester, and come here.  I have some questions to ask you.”

The captain silently took the chair which was indicated by a wave of the colonel’s hand, and waited.  For a moment no word more was spoken.  The old soldier, white and trembling strangely, reseated himself at the desk, and covered his face with his hands.  Twice he drew them with feebly stroking movement over his eyes, as though to rally the stunned faculties and face the trying ordeal.  Then a shiver passed through his frame, and with sudden lift of the head he fixed his gaze on Chester’s face and launched the question,—­

“Chester, is there any kindness to a man who has been through what I have in telling only half a tale, as you have done?”