personally. Then the uselessness of such procedure
recurred to him; the fact that nothing could result
from their meeting but disappointment and recrimination.
The man evidently disliked him, and would resent
any interference; he had something to conceal, something
at stake for which he would battle strenuously.
It would be better to let him alone at present, and
try to uncover a clue elsewhere. Later, with
more facts in his possession, he could face the Lieutenant
and compel his acknowledgment. These considerations
caused him to turn sharply and walk straight toward
the ravine. Yet his investigations there brought
few results. On the upper bank were the marks
of a woman’s shoe, a slender footprint clearly
defined, but the lower portion of the ravine was rocky,
and the trail soon lost. He passed down beyond
the stables, realizing how easily the fugitives, under
cover of darkness, could have escaped. The stable
guard could have seen nothing from his station, and
just below was the hard-packed road leading to the
river and the straggling town. There was nothing
to trace, and Hamlin climbed back up the bluff completely
baffled but desperately resolved to unlock the mystery.
The harder the solution appeared, the more determined
he became to solve it. As he came out, opposite
the barrack entrance, a carriage drove in past the
guard-house, the guard presenting arms, and circled
the parade in the direction of officers’ row.
It contained a soldier driver and two ladies, and
the Sergeant’s face blushed under its tan as
he recognized Miss McDonald. Would she notice
him—speak to him? The man could not
forbear lifting his eyes to her face as the carriage
swept by. He saw her glance toward him, smile,
with a little gesture of recognition, and stood there
bareheaded, his heart throbbing wildly. With
that look, that smile, he instantly realized two facts
of importance—she was willing to meet him
on terms of friendship, and she had not recognized
him the evening previous as he ran past her in the
dark.
Hamlin, his thoughts entirely centred upon Miss McDonald,
had scarcely noted her companion, yet as he lingered
while the carriage drew up before the Major’s
quarters, he seemed to remember vaguely that she was
a strikingly beautiful blonde, with face shadowed by
a broad hat. Although larger, and with light
fluffy hair and blue eyes, the lady’s features
were strangely like those of her slightly younger companion.
The memory of these grew clearer before the Sergeant—the
whiteness of the face, the sudden lowering of the
head; then he knew her; across the chasm of years
her identity smote him as a blow; his breath came
quickly and his fingers clenched.
“My God!” he muttered, unconsciously.
“That was Vera! She has changed, wonderfully
changed, but—but she knew me. What,
in Heaven’s name, can she be doing here, and—with
Molly?”
With straining eyes he stared after them until they
both disappeared together within the house.
Miss McDonald glanced back toward him once almost
shyly, but the other never turned her head. The
carriage drove away toward the stables. Feeling
as though he had looked upon a ghost, Hamlin turned
to enter the barracks. An infantry soldier leaned
negligently in the doorway smoking.