For several days after Hatton's sudden departure Lieutenant McLean was
worse. High fever had set in, and Dr. Weeks hardly knew how to account
for it. Mrs. Miller, kind soul, had begged to be allowed to come over
and help nurse him, and was more than perplexed when, having easily
obtained the approval of the post surgeon, she was met by a most
embarrassed but earnest negative on the part of his assistant. As Weeks
was in charge of the case, Dr. Bayard's sense of professional etiquette
would not permit of his opposing his junior in the matter, but did not
prevent his expressing himself as surprised and annoyed at what he
termed a slight to the wife of the commanding officer. The lady herself
could not refrain from telling her husband and making some trenchant
criticisms at the expense of the younger physician; and, as a result of
her remarks, Old Miller decided to do a thing to which, hitherto, he
had always declared himself averse,--namely, to require of his surgical
staff a defence of their policy in the matter. He would not do this
formally or officially, but he meant to ask Dr. Bayard at once what
possible objection there could be to Mrs. Miller's looking in on the
young officer and doing what she could to promote his comfort. She was
welcome to go to Blunt's bedside, she told him, and Mr. Blunt's wounds
were of a more severe character than those of the young infantryman,
whom she was virtually forbidden to see.
Miller's honest heart was filled full of perplexities and cares at this
time, and the best of men are apt to be a trifle irritable under such
conditions. His brow was moody and his step more energetic than usual,
as he sallied forth in search of his senior surgeon, this bright
sunshiny morning. No one was on the Bayards' piazza, but the front door
was open, and, hearing subdued voices in the parlor, he ventured to
step inside and tap at the inner door which also stood ajar. It was at
once thrown wide open by Janet Bruce, whose bonnie face lighted up with
pleasure at sight of him; she had always been a favorite of his from
the days when she was a romping maid in short dresses.
"Why, Major Miller! Come right in. Nellie will be so glad to see you."
"What! Is Nellie here?" he asked, and stepping into the parlor, the
gloom vanishing from his face at sight of those smiling eyes, he
marched over to the sofa where Elinor lay, holding forth to him a white
and fragile hand.
"Why, bless your heart, little lady! I'm rejoiced to see you
down-stairs again," he cheerily said. "We've all been in the dumps ever
since you were taken ill and remanded to bed. And now I suppose you and
Janet here have been condoling with each other. With McLean invalided
and Hatton on the war-path, I fear me you two young women have been
indulging in tears. Hah! Blushing? Well, well, I only wish I were Mac
or Hatton either. Enviable fellows, both of them, to have two such
pretty girls in mourning for their mishaps. But all the same, don't you
lose your hearts to those boys; neither of 'em is worth it." And the
major chuckled at the idea of being quizzical and arch.
"Indeed, Major Miller," retorted Miss Bruce, with reddening cheeks and
spirited mien. "We're not in mourning at all, though I'm not a whit
ashamed of my anxiety about our friends; but as for calling them boys,
Mr. Hatton is ten years older than you were when you were
married,--Mrs. Miller told me so,--and Mr. McLean has been too many
years in the service to be spoken of disparagingly. Have you heard how
he is this morning?" she asked, with a sudden change from rebuke to
anxious inquiry, flashing a quick glance at his half-averted face as
she questioned.
"Not for two hours. I had hoped to find Dr. Bayard here. Do you know
where he is, Miss Nellie?"
"He said he was going to the hospital, major," was the hesitant reply,
"but I think he stopped at Bedlam,--at Mrs. Forrest's, perhaps."
"Ah--yes, I remember. Mrs. Forrest does not get well rapidly. Has Miss
Forrest been over to see you since you came down-stairs?"
"She called, but papa had desired me to keep very quiet. Janet was
reading to me, and she went to the door and saw her."
The major decided to press the question no further. Something in the
manner of both girls told him the subject was hardly congenial. He
remained a few moments chatting with them, and noted with paternal
solicitude the languor and lack of interest in Nellie Bayard's drooping
eyes and the unmistakable signs of anxiety and trouble in her sweet
face. "My wife is right," he muttered to himself; "she always is, in
such things at least,"--for with masculine perversity he could not
vouchsafe a sweeping verdict as to a woman's infallibility. "There is
small chance here for Holmes," he mentally added. "I only wish young
McLean were out of his troubles." And the doctor's hearty voice was
heard without, and the tread of feet, and the next moment Bayard was in
the hall-way eagerly welcoming a visitor. Miller saw the glance that
passed between the girls and the instant cloud of distress that
overspread Nellie's face. It was Roswell Holmes again.
"Why! When did you get back?" exclaimed the major, rising. "We had no
idea of this. I supposed you would go direct to Cheyenne from the
ranch."
"It was my intention, major," answered Mr. Holmes, with grave courtesy,
"but letters I received made it preferable that I should come back
here, and the doctor kindly gives me an abiding-place. Excuse me," and
he passed the major by and went on and bent over the sofa and took Miss
Bayard's hand and greeted her with tender intonation in every word,
even while he bowed pleasantly to Miss Bruce.
"Quite a surprise, wasn't it?" asked Dr. Bayard from the door-way.
"Major, I'm glad to see you here this morning, and no doubt Nellie
welcomed you, though she isn't able to play the hostess just yet. We'll
have her up and about in a day or two, though. Holmes, old fellow, you
can safely hang your traps in the hall now. I've had that latch
tinkered up since the night--the night of the dinner. Whoever opened it
that night will get fooled on it the next time he tries. I had quite a
row with Robert about it, and the conceit was taken out of him not a
little."
"Why, how was this, doctor?" asked Miller, with immediate interest. "I
had not heard. Are there--have there been any new developments?" And
lowering his voice as he asked, the major drew the post surgeon into
the hall-way.
"Nothing of consequence, major. Of course we all felt uncomfortable
when it was known that Holmes had lost a porte-monnaie from his
overcoat-pocket as it hung here on the rack that night. Though he
protests there was nothing in it, the thing might have been serious.
You remember you thought the hall-door had been opened during our
dinner. I believe I was telling some story or other at the time,--bad
habit of mine,--and we sent Robert out to look. He came back and said
it was tight shut, and couldn't have been open, because he had fixed it
so that the latch could not be turned from outside. But Holmes showed
us next day that it could be."
"Then you think it had been tampered with,--that some garrison
sneak-thief had got in?"
"Well, that's what Holmes says and what Robert stoutly maintains,
though you can't see a scratch or a mark or anything to indicate that
such means had been used. No, major," and the doctor shook his head
ominiously. "I--I have another theory, but it's one too shadowy, too
unsubstantial to speak of. It is nothing but suspicion."
And Miller would not ask him what it was. Well knowing how the doctor
had been devoting himself to Miss Forrest, it was with nothing short of
amaze that the old soldier now heard him speak. After all his wife had
told him, whom could Bayard mean but the Queen of Bedlam?
Abruptly the major changed the subject, even while thinking how in his
own experience he had had recent opportunity to realize the truth of
what the doctor said. Somebody had indeed "got fooled on that latch"
the night he sat there in the dim light of the doctor's
library,--somebody who evidently expected to enter as readily as
before, and had worked ineffectually for several minutes before
abandoning the attempt, and then only to be caught in the act and
unblushingly to repudiate the same.
"Bayard," said the major, "I am the last man to interfere in the
details of my subordinates' management of affairs, but there's a matter
I want to ask you about while we are out here. What is the reason Dr.
Weeks refuses to let Mrs. Miller go in and see McLean? She has been
always very fond of him, and naturally wants to be of service now. Of
course, if there be any good and sufficient reason, I've nothing to
say, but I think I've a right to know."
Bayard hesitated a moment. "Come out here on the piazza, major," he
presently said. "I don't want them to hear in the parlor." And together
the two officers walked over to the wooden railing and stood there
looking at each other. It was evident to the post commander in an
instant that what his surgeon had to tell was something of no little
importance and something, furthermore, that he shrank from mentioning.
Bayard's eyes fell before the major's earnest and troubled gaze; he was
plainly studying how to put his information fairly and without
prejudice. Suddenly he looked up.
"First, while we are on the subject, let me finish about this latch
business, major. It is not entirely--entirely irrelevant to the other
matter. You see I had to tell Robert why we made such particular
inquiries about the door. Now the boy has been with me for years, and
came to me with a most unblemished character. Why, he was body-servant
for the adjutant and quartermaster of the First Artillery in the lively
old days at Fort Hamilton, and had unlimited opportunities for
peculation; but those gentlemen said he was simply above suspicion. But
he is sensitive, and it worried him fearfully lest Mr. Holmes should
think he or some of his assistants in the kitchen had been searching
those pockets. Now it was simply on his account--to convince him it was
somebody from outside that surreptitiously entered the hall while we
were all at dinner--that Holmes took the trouble to test the latch, and
with a little bit of stiff wire he showed us how Robert's device could
be circumvented."
"And Holmes has no doubt it was so accomplished?" asked the major,
tentatively.
Bayard looked embarrassed. "I cannot say just what he does think,
major, because he utterly refuses to speak of it. He said it was absurd
to make such an ado about nothing, and declared he would be seriously
annoyed if I pursued the subject."
"But you admit you have a theory of your own?" and Miller keenly eyed
his medical officer as though striving to read beneath that smooth and
polished surface.
"I have what might be called an hypothesis, a vague theory, and a
suspicion that would be entirely intangible but for one or two little
things that have recently come to my knowledge."
"And those little things point to an inmate of the garrison, do they
not?" asked Miller, with as much nonchalance as he could assume.
"I fear so," was the doctor's answer. "But you asked why Mrs. Miller
was urged not to come to Mr. McLean's room just yet; that is the way
Weeks put it to me when I overhauled him, which I did at the moment the
matter came to my ears. Rest assured I was quite as ready to take
umbrage at his action,--more so, rather, than you could have been. But,
major, could you have heard his explanation, you yourself would have
been the first to say no one but his physician should be allowed to
stay there. Weeks even sent the hospital nurse away, and sat up with
him all night himself."
"Has he been delirious?"
"Yes, and in his delirium he has been talking of things that have
completely stampeded poor Weeks. Of course he could not give me the
faintest inkling of what they were, and I would not ask; but they were
of such a character that they should be treated as sacred confidences,
and Weeks said to me that no court-martial could drag them from his
lips. He would resign first. It was for fear his patient might continue
the subject in her presence that Weeks begged Mrs. Miller not to think
of coming to nurse him yet awhile. He assures me that the moment the
fever subsides he will be glad to have her aid, for he looks worn-out
now. Were not his reasons cogent?"
Miller bowed his head. "I had not thought of this," he said; "Mrs.
Miller will be as sorry as I am to hear of it, and, of course, she will
appreciate the reasons. Did Weeks tell you when this delirium began?"
"The night after Hatton left, or, rather, very early in the morning of
the next day. He had been alarmed at McLean's symptoms during the
evening, and ordered the nurse to wake him if he saw any indications of
delirium. The man came to him at three in the morning and said the
lieutenant was wild. Weeks went over at once,--and ten minutes after he
got there he sent the attendant away, and shut himself up with his
patient."
The major pondered a moment. "Is the man close-mouthed? Do you think he
could have heard much of anything before he was sent away?"
"I know very little about him. He is a member of Captain Bruce's
company and very much attached to the lieutenant; so I infer from what
Weeks tells me. Even if he had heard anything that ought not to leak
out, it is not likely this particular man would betray it; he would say
nothing that might ever harm McLean."
"Well, no! Not McLean, perhaps. Very possibly he might not know how it
would harm him to have his ravings repeated. I was thinking--I could
not help thinking--that Mac had been talking about--these recent thefts
in garrison."
"And there have been more than this one at our house?" asked the
doctor, with concern and surprise mingled in his handsome face.
"Yes, two or three more, I regret to say, but I have not full
particulars yet and cannot speak of them."
Bayard clasped his hands with one of the melodramatic gestures so
peculiar to him.
"My God!" he muttered. "It was bad enough as I supposed it, but I had
no idea it had come to such a pass as this."
"Bayard," said the major, after a moment of earnest thought, "this is a
matter that must be handled with the utmost care and circumspection.
Not a vestige of suspicion must be permitted to circulate if we can
prevent it. I have strictly enjoined secrecy upon my--my informant, and
I desire you to regard this talk as confidential. Tell Weeks I
appreciate and sustain him in this caution and thank him for his
efforts to stifle any possible scandal. Poor Mac! The youngster would
be horror-stricken if he knew what secrets he had been blabbing."
"His troubles must have been weighing on his mind a long time," said
the doctor, "and yet I never suspected it. I don't know that I ever saw
a blither young fellow until about the time the finding of that board
of survey was announced. He didn't seem to expect that at all."
"Well,--neither did I. Of course, technically it had to go against him,
but we never dreamed it would result in stoppage of his pay."
"And yet his funds were all right, I'm told," said the doctor,
musingly. "One would suppose that if he had any tendencies that way
they would have cropped out when he had so much public money passing
through his hands."
"Tendencies what way, doctor? I don't follow you."
"Why, in the way these--these little thefts and his delirious
utterances would seem to indicate," said Bayard, hesitatingly.
Miller fairly sprang up from the rail on which he was leaning, his eyes
distended with wonderment and pain.
"In God's name, Bayard, what are you talking about?" he gasped.
"About this sad case of McLean's, major, as I supposed you were."
"You don't mean that your theory involves him? You don't mean it--it is
of himself, of his connection with these thefts, that he has been
telling in his delirium?"
"Why, Major Miller, I supposed of course you understood--I--I, of
course, accuse nobody, but of whom could he have been talking about but
himself? That was certainly my understanding of it."
For one moment the old major stood there looking into the
staff-officer's eyes,--amaze, consternation, distress, all mingled in
his florid, weather-beaten face. Then without a word he turned and
stumbled away down the steps and hurried from the gate. The trim,
spruce orderly, standing on the walk without, raised his gloved hand in
salute and stood attention as the commanding officer passed him, then
"fell in" ten paces behind and followed in his tracks. But for once in
his life the major neither saw nor returned a soldier's respectful
salutation.