“What evidence?”

“The photograph that was stolen from Mrs. Maynard between two and four o’clock that morning was seen in your drawer by Major Sloat at reveille.  You were fool enough to show it to him.”

“Captain Armitage, I shall be quite able to show, when the proper time comes, that the photograph I showed Major Sloat was not stolen:  it was given me.”

“That is beyond belief, Mr. Jerrold.  Once and for all, understand this case.  You have compromised her good name by the very mystery of your actions.  You have it in your power to clear her by proving where you were, since you were not near her,—­by showing how you got that photograph,—­by explaining how you came to write so strange a letter.  Now I say to you, will you do it, instantly, or must we wring it from you?”

A sneering smile was the only answer for a moment; then,—­

“I shall take great pleasure in confounding my enemies should the matter be brought before a court,—­I’m sure if the colonel can stand that sort of thing I can,—­but as for defending myself or anybody else from utterly unjust and proofless suspicions, it’s quite another thing.”

“Good God, Jerrold! do you realize what a position you are taking?  Do you—­”

“Oh, not at all, captain,” was the airy reply, “not at all.  It is not a position I have taken:  it is one into which you misguided conspirators have forced me.  I certainly am not required to compromise anybody else in order to relieve a suspicion which you, not I, have created.  How do you know that there may not be some other woman whose name I propose to guard?  You have been really very flattering in your theories so far.”

Armitage could bear no more.  The airy conceit and insolence of the man overcame all self-restraint and resolution.  With one bound he was at his throat, his strong white hands grasping him in a sudden, vice-like grip, then hurling him with stunning, thundering force to the floor.  Down, headlong, went the tall lieutenant, his sword clattering by his side, his slim brown hands clutching wildly at anything that might bear him up, and dragging with him in his catastrophe a rack of hunting-pouches, antlers, and one heavy double-barrelled shot-gun.  All came tumbling down about the struggling form, and Armitage, glaring down at him with clinching fists and rasping teeth, had only time to utter one deep-drawn malediction when he noted that the struggles ceased and Jerrold lay quite still.  Then the blood began to ooze from a jagged cut near the temple, and it was evident that the hammer of the gun had struck him.

Another moment, and the door opened, and with anxious face Chester strode into the room.  “You haven’t killed him, Armitage?  Is it as bad as that?”

“Pick him up, and we’ll get him on the bed.  He’s only stunned.  I didn’t even hit him.  Those things tumbled afterwards,” said Armitage, as between them they raised the dead weight of the slender Adonis in their arms and bore him to the bedroom.  Here they bathed the wound with cold water and removed the uniform coat, and presently the lieutenant began to revive and look about him.