XVII.

The morning report of the following day showed some items under the head

of "Alterations" that involved several of the soldier characters of this

story. Ex-Sergeant Clancy had been dropped from the column of present

"on daily duty" and taken up on that of absent without leave. Lieutenant

Hayne was also reported absent. Dr. Pease and Lieutenant Billings drove

into the garrison from town just before the cavalry trumpets were

sounding first call for guard-mounting, and the adjutant sent one of the

musicians to give his compliments to Mr. Royce and ask him to mount the

guard for him, as he had just returned and had important business with

the colonel. The doctor and the adjutant together went into the

colonel's quarters, and for the first time on record the commanding

officer was not at the desk in his office when the shoulder-straps began

to gather for the _matinée_.

Ten minutes after the usual time the adjutant darted in and plunged with

his characteristic impetuosity into the pile of passes and other papers

stacked up by the sergeant-major at his table. To all questions as to

where he had been and what was the matter with the colonel he replied,

with more than usual asperity of manner,--the asperity engendered of

some years of having to answer the host of questions propounded by

vacant minds at his own busiest hour of the day,--that the colonel would

tell them all about it himself; _he_ had no time for a word. The evident

manner of suppressed excitement, however, was something few failed to

note; and every man in the room felt certain that when the colonel came

there would be a revelation. It was with something bordering on

indignation, therefore, that the assemblage heard the words that

intimated to them that all might retire. The colonel had come in very

quietly, received the report of the officer of the day, relieved him,

and dismissed the new officer of the day with the brief formula, "Usual

orders, sir," then glanced quickly around the silent circle of grave,

bearded or boyish faces. His eyes rested for an instant with something

like shock and trouble upon one face, pale, haggard, with almost

bloodless lips, and yet full of fierce determination,--a face that

haunted him long afterwards, it was so full of agony, of suspense,

almost of pleading,--the face of Captain Rayner.

Then, dispensing with the customary talk, he quietly spoke the

disappointing words,--

"I am somewhat late this morning, gentlemen, and several matters will

occupy my attention: so I will not detain you further."

The crowd seemed to find their feet very slowly. There was visible

disinclination to go. Every man in some inexplicable way appeared to

know that there was a new mystery hanging over the garrison, and that

the colonel held the key. Every man felt that Billings had given him the

right to expect to be told all about it when the colonel came. Some

looked reproachfully at Billings, as though to remind him of their

expectations: Stannard, his old stand-by, passed him with a gruff

"Thought you said the colonel had something to tell us," and went out

with an air of injured and defrauded dignity. Rayner arose, and seemed

to be making preparations to depart with the others, and some of the

number, connecting him unerringly with the prevailing sensation,

appeared to hold back and wait for him to precede them and so secure to

themselves the satisfaction of knowing that, if it was a matter

connected with Rayner, they "had him along" and nothing could take place

without their hearing it. These men were very few, however; but Buxton

was one of them. Rayner's eyes were fixed upon the colonel and searching

for a sign, and it came,--a little motion of the hand and a nod of the

head that signified "Stay." Then, as Buxton and one or two of his stamp

still dallied irresolute, the colonel turned somewhat sharply to them:

"Was there any matter on which you wished to see me, gentlemen?" and, as

there was none, they _had_ to go. Then Rayner was alone with the

colonel; for Mr. Billings quickly arose, and, with a significant glance

at his commander, left the room and closed the door.

Mrs. Rayner, gazing from her parlor windows, saw that all the officers

had come out except one,--her husband,--and with a moan of misery she

covered her face with her hands and sank upon the sofa. With cheeks as

white as her sister's, with eyes full of trouble and perplexity, but

tearless, Nellie Travers stepped quickly into the room and put a

trembling white hand upon the other's shoulder:

"Kate, it is no time for so bitter an estrangement as this. I have done

simply what our soldier father would have done had he been here. I am

fully aware of what it must cost me. I knew when I did it that you would

never again welcome me to your home. Once East again, you and I can go

our ways; I won't burden you longer; but is it not better that you

should tell me in what way your husband or you can have been injured by

what I have done?"

Mrs. Rayner impatiently shook away the hand.

"I don't want to talk to you," was the blunt answer. "You have carried

out your threat and--ruined _us_: that's all."

"What _can_ you mean? Do you want me to think that because Mr. Hayne's

innocence may be established your husband was the guilty man? Certainly

your manner leads to that inference; though his does not, by any means."

"I don't want to talk, I tell you. You've had your way,--done your work.

You'll see soon enough the hideous web of trouble you've entangled

about my husband. Don't you dare say--don't you dare think"--and now she

rose with sudden fury--"that he was the--that he lost the money! But

that's what all others will think."

"If that were true, Kate, there would be this difference between his

trouble and Mr. Hayne's: Captain Rayner would have wife, wealth, and

friends to help him bear the cross; Mr. Hayne has borne it five long

years unaided. I pray God the truth _has_ been brought to light."

What fierce reply Mrs. Rayner might have given, who knows? but at that

instant a quick step was heard on the piazza, the door opened suddenly,

and Captain Rayner entered with a rush. The pallor had gone; a light of

eager, half-incredulous joy beamed from his eyes, he threw his cap upon

the floor, and his wife had risen and thrown her arms about his neck.

"Have they found him?" was her breathless question. "_What_ has

happened? You look so different."

"Found him? Yes; and he has told everything?"

"Told--what?"

"Told that he and Gower were the men. They took it all."

"_Clancy!_--and Gower! The thieves, do you mean? Is that--is _that_ what

he confessed?" she asked, in wild wonderment, in almost stupefied amaze,

releasing him from her arms and stepping back, her eyes searching his

face.

"Nothing else in the world, Kate. I don't understand it at all. I'm all

a-tremble yet. It clears Hayne utterly. It at least explains how I was

mistaken. But what--what could she have meant?"

Mrs. Rayner stood like one in a dream, her eyes staring, her lips

quivering; and Nellie, with throbbing pulses and clasping hands, looked

eagerly from husband to wife, as though beseeching some explanation.

"What did she mean? What _did_ she mean? I say again," asked Rayner,

pressing his hand to his forehead and gazing fixedly at his wife.

A moment longer she stood there, as though a light--a long-hidden

truth--were slowly forcing itself upon her mind. Then, with impulsive

movement, she hurried through the dining-room, threw open the kitchen

door, and startled the domestics at their late breakfast.

"Ryan," she called to the soldier-servant who rose hastily from the

table, "go and tell Mrs. Clancy I want her instantly. Do you understand?

Instantly!" And Ryan seized his forage-cap and vanished.

It was perhaps ten minutes before he returned. When he did so it was

apparent that Mrs. Rayner had been crying copiously, and that Miss

Travers, too, was much affected. The captain was pacing the room with

nervous strides in mingled relief and agitation. All looked up expectant

as the soldier re-entered. He had the air of a man who knew he bore

tidings of vivid and mysterious interest, but he curbed the excitement

of his manner until it shone only through his snapping eyes, saluted,

and reported with professional gravity:

"Mrs. Clancy's clean gone, sir."

"Gone where?"

"Nobody knows, sir. She's just lit out with her trunk and best clothes

some time last night."

"Gone to her husband in town, maybe?"

"No, sir. Clancy's all right: he was caught last evening, and hadn't

time to get more'n half drunk before they lodged him. Lootenant Hayne

got him, sir. They had him afore a justice of the peace early this

morning--"

"Yes, I know all that. What I want is _Mrs._ Clancy. What has become of

her?"

"Faith, I don't know, sir, but the women in Sudsville they all say she's

run away, sir,--taken her money and gone. She's afraid of Clancy's

peaching on her."

"By heavens! the thing is clearing itself!" exclaimed Rayner to his

gasping and wild-eyed wife. "I must go to the colonel at once with his

news." And away he went.

And then again, as the orderly retired, and the sisters were left alone,

Nellie Travers with trembling lips asked the question,--

"Have I done so much harm, after all, Kate?"

"Oh, Nellie! Nellie! forgive me, for I have been nearly mad with

misery!" was Mrs. Rayner's answer, as she burst into a fresh paroxysm of

tears. "That--that woman has--has told me fearful lies."

There was a strange scene that day at Warrener when, towards noon, two

carriages drove out from town and, entering the east gate, rolled over

towards the guard-house. The soldiers clustered about the barrack

porches and stared at the occupants. In the first--a livery hack from

town--were two sheriff's officers, while cowering on the back seat, his

hat pulled down over his eyes, was poor old Clancy, to whom clung

faithful little Kate. In the rear carriage--Major Waldron's--were Mr.

Hayne, the major, and a civilian whom some of the men had no difficulty

in recognizing as the official charged with the administration of

justice towards offenders against the peace. Many of the soldiers

strolled slowly up the road, in hopes of hearing all about the arrest,

and what it meant, from straggling members of the guard. All knew it

meant something more than a mere "break" on the part of Clancy; all felt

that it had some connection with the long-continued mystery that hung

about the name of Lieutenant Hayne. Then, too, it was being noised

abroad that Mrs. Clancy had "skipped" and between two suns had fled for

parts unknown. _She_ could be overhauled by telegraph if she had left on

either of the night freights or gone down towards Denver by the early

morning passenger-train; it would be easy enough to capture her if she

were "wanted," said the garrison; but what did it mean that Clancy was

pursued by officers of the post and brought back under charge of

officers of the law? He had had trouble enough, poor fellow!

The officer of the guard looked wonderingly at the carriages and their

occupants. He saluted Major Waldron as the latter stepped briskly down.

"You will take charge of Clancy, Mr. Graham," said the major. "His

discharge will be recalled: at least it will not take effect to-day. You

will be interested in knowing that his voluntary confession fully

establishes Mr. Hayne's innocence of the charges on which he was tried."

Mr. Graham's face turned all manner of colors. He glanced at Hayne, who,

still seated in the carriage, was as calmly indifferent to him as ever:

he was gazing across the wide parade at the windows in officers' row.

Little Kate's sobs as the soldiers were helping her father from the

carriage suddenly recalled his wandering thoughts. He sprang to the

ground, stepped quickly to the child, and put his arms about her.

"Clancy, tell her to come with us. Mrs. Waldron will take loving care of

her, and she shall come to see you every day. The guard-house is no

place for her to follow you. Tell her so, man, and she will go with

us.--Come, Katie, child!" And he bent tenderly over the sobbing little

waif.

"Thank ye, sir. I know ye'll be good to her. Go with the lootenant, Kate

darlin'; go. Shure I'll be happier then."

And, trembling, he bent and kissed her wet cheeks. She threw her arms

around his neck and clung to him in an agony of grief. Gently they

strove to disengage her clasping arms, but she shrieked and struggled,

and poor old Clancy broke down. There were sturdy soldiers standing by

who turned their heads away to hide the unbidden tears, and with a

quiver in his kind voice the major interposed:

"Let her stay awhile: it will be better for both. Don't put him in the

prison-room, Graham. Keep them by themselves for a while. We will come

for her by and by." And then, before them all, he held forth his hand

and gave Clancy's a cordial grasp:

"Cheer up, man. You've taken the right step at last. You are a free man

to-day, even if you are a prisoner for the time being. Better this a

thousand times than what you were."

Hayne, too, spoke a few kind words in a low tone, and gave the old

soldier his hand at parting. Then the guard closed the door, and father

and daughter were left alone. As the groups around the guard-house began

to break up and move away, and the officers, re-entering the carriages,

drove over to head-quarters, a rollicking Irishman called to the

sergeant of the guard,--

"Does he know the ould woman's skipped, sargent? Shure you'd better tell

him. 'Twill cheer him, like."

But when, a few moments after, the news was imparted to Clancy, the

effect was electric and startling. With one bound and a savage cry he

sprang to the door. The sergeant threw himself upon him and strove to

hold him back, but was no match for the frenzied man. Deaf to Kate's

entreaties and the sergeant's commands, he hurled him aside, leaped

through the door-way, shot like a deer past the lolling guardsmen on the

porch, and, turning sharply, went at the top of his speed down the hill

towards Sudsville before man could lay hand on him. The sentry on Number

One cocked his rifle and looked inquiringly at the officer of the guard,

who came running out. With a wild shriek little Kate threw herself upon

the sentry, clasping his knees and imploring him not to shoot. The

lieutenant and the sergeant both shouted, "Never mind! Don't fire!" and

with others of the guard rushed in pursuit. But, old and feeble as he

was, poor Clancy kept the lead, never swerving, never flagging, until he

reached the door-way of his abandoned cot; this he burst in, threw

himself upon his knees by the bedside, and dragged to light a little

wooden chest that stood by an open trap in the floor. One look sufficed:

the mere fact that the trap was open and the box exposed was enough.

With a wild cry of rage, despair, and baffled hatred, he clinched his

hands above his head, rose to his full height, and with a curse upon his

white lips, with glaring eyes and gasping breath, turned upon his

pursuers as they came running in, and hurled his fists at the foremost.

"Let me follow her, I say! She's gone with it all,--his money! Let me

go!" he shrieked; and then his eyes turned stony, a gasp, a clutch at

his throat, and, plunging headlong, he fell upon his face at their feet.

Poor little Kate! The old man was, indeed, free at last.