The Sergeant had scarcely grasped this fact when his attention was diverted by the appearance of Miss McDonald.  She was dancing with a civilian, an immaculately dressed individual with ruddy, boyish face.  His intense admiration of his partner was plainly evident, and the girl, simply dressed in white, her cheeks flushed, her dark eyes bright with enjoyment, set Hamlin’s cool nerves throbbing.  He could not resist gazing at her, and, as their eyes met, she bowed, the full red lips parting in a smile of recognition.  There was no reservation, no restraint in that quick greeting, as she whirled by; he could not fail to comprehend its full significance—­she had not forgotten, had no desire to forget.  What he imagined he read in her face swept all else from his mind instantly, and, with eager eyes, he followed her slight, girlish figure as they circled the hall.  The music ceased, and he still watched as the lad led her to a seat, himself sinking into a chair beside her.  Then the passing out of several men, who desired return checks, claimed his attention.  When the last of these had disappeared, he glanced again in her direction.  She was alone, and her young partner was walking toward him across the deserted floor.  The lad came to the door, which by now contained few loiterers, and stood there a moment gazing out into the street.

“Are you Sergeant Hamlin?” he asked quietly.

“Yes.”

“Miss McDonald requested me to hand you this note unobserved.  I have no knowledge of its contents.”

Hamlin felt the flutter of the paper in his palm, and stood silent, clinging to it, as the other carelessly recrossed the room.  She was looking toward him, but he made no motion to unfold the missive, until his eyes, searching the chairs, had located Mrs. Dupont.  The very secret of delivery made him cautious, made him suspect it had to do with that woman.  She was beside the band-stand, still conversing with the Major, apparently oblivious to any other presence, her face turned aside.  Assured of this, he opened the paper, and glanced at the few hastily scribbled lines.

“I trust you, and you must believe I do not do this without cause.  During the intermission be in the hotel parlor.”

CHAPTER XIX

A FULL CONFESSION

There were two more dances scheduled on the program.  The last of these had begun before the infantry sergeant returned, and, apologizing for his long absence, resumed his duties at the door.  Across the room, Hamlin’s eyes met those of Miss McDonald, where she danced with an unknown officer; then he turned and elbowed his way to the street.  The hotel opposite was all bustle and confusion, the bar-room crowded with the thirsty emergency waiters who had rushed about the hall completing final preparations.  The Sergeant, intent on his purpose, and aware that the band had ceased playing, dodged past these and entered the parlor.