Whatever sensation or suppressed mystery may have existed at the post
prior to the receipt of the brief despatch announcing that the soldier,
Parsons, had "bolted," it was all as nothing compared with the
excitements of the week that followed. Miller's first impulse, when Mr.
Holmes placed the brown scrap of paper in his hands, was to inquire how
it happened that a civilian should concern himself with the movements
of his men, either in or out of garrison, but something in the
expression of Miss Forrest's face as she walked calmly past him on the
way to her room, and in the kindling eyes of this popular and respected
gentleman gave him decided pause.
"There is a matter behind all this which I ought to know, is there
not?" was therefore his quiet inquiry; and when Mr. Holmes assured him
that there was, and the two went off together arm in arm, leaving Mrs.
Miller to wonder what it all could mean, and to go in and upbraid her
pet lieutenant for venturing from his room when still so weak, it was
soon evident to more eyes than those of Dr. Bayard that something of
unusual interest was indeed brewing, and that the ordinarily genial and
jovial major was powerfully moved. In ten minutes the two men were at
the telegraph office and the operator was "calling" Cheyenne. An hour
later, after another brief and earnest talk with Miss Forrest on the
upper gallery of "Bedlam," Mr. Holmes's travelling wagon rolled into
the garrison and away he went. At midnight he was changing horses at
"The Chug." The next day he was at Cheyenne and wired the major from
that point. Two days more and he was heard from at Denver, and then
there was silence.
At the end of the week Private Parsons, of Terry's Grays, who had been
carried for three or four successive mornings as "on detached service,"
then as "absent without leave," was formally accounted for as
"deserted," and it began to be whispered about the garrison that grave
and decidedly sensational reasons attended his sudden disappearance.
Dr. Bayard had a long and private interview with the commanding
officer, who showed him a letter received from Mr. Holmes, and went
home to Nellie with a dazed look on his distinguished face. The sight
of Randall McLean, seated on the front piazza, and in blithe
conversation with that young lady and her friend Miss Bruce, for an
instant caused him to halt short at his own gate, but, mastering
whatever emotion possessed him, the doctor marched straight up to that
rapidly recuperating officer, who was trying to find his feet and show
due respect to the master of the house, and, bidding him keep his seat,
bent over and took his hand and confused him more than a little by the
unexpected and really inexplicable warmth of his greeting.
McLean, who had been accustomed to constraint and coldness of manner on
the part of the post surgeon, was at a loss to account for the sudden
change. Nellie, whose sweet eyes had marked with no little uneasiness
her father's hurried coming, flushed with relief and shy delight at
this unlooked-for welcome; and Jeannie Bruce, to use her own expression
when telling of it afterward, was "all taken aback." She and Mrs.
Miller had between them planned that Mr. McLean should walk over with
the latter, early in the afternoon, just as though out for a little
airing and to try his legs after their unaccustomed rest. Nellie and
Miss Bruce were to happen out on the piazza at the moment (and the
details of this portion of the plan were left to the ingenuity of
"Bonnie Jean" herself, who well knew that it must be accomplished
without a germ of suspicion on the part of her shy and sensitive little
friend), and McLean was to be escorted in by Mrs. Miller, who was
presently to leave, promising to come back for him in a few moments.
Then, when the ice was broken and Nellie was beginning to feel more at
ease after the mysterious estrangement and this sudden reappearance of
her old friend, Jean, too, was to be called away and the pair be left
alone. Arch plotters that these women are! They had chosen the hour
when the doctor almost invariably took his siesta, and both ladies had
warned their friends on no account to select that opportunity to rush
over and congratulate the lieutenant on his convalescence,--a thing the
Gordon girls would have been sure to do. Miss Bruce had gone so far as
to ask Mrs. Miller if she did not think it might be well to "post" Miss
Forrest, who had been almost daily seen conversing with Mr. McLean
since he began to sit out on the gallery again; but Mrs. Miller
promptly replied that there was no need to tell Miss Forrest anything.
"She has more sense than all of the rest of us put together," were the
surprising words of the reply, "as I have excellent reasons to know."
What could have happened to so radically change Mrs. Miller's estimate
of and regard for the "Queen of Bedlam?" was Jean Bruce's natural
question of her mother that night, and Mrs. Bruce was in a quandary how
to answer and not betray the secret that had been confided to her. From
having avoided and distrusted Miss Fanny Forrest, it was now noticeable
to the entire garrison that Mrs. Miller was exerting herself to be more
than civil.
It was too late to change the plan of the afternoon's campaign when the
major's orderly came around to Dr. Bayard's with the compliments of the
commanding officer and a request that the doctor join him at his
quarters as soon as possible. Although he was gone nearly an hour, he
returned before McLean had been with the girls more than a quarter of
that time, and changed their apprehension into wonderment and secret
joy by the extreme--almost oppressive--courtesy of manner to his
unbidden guest.
"It was just as though he was trying to make amends for something," said
Miss Bruce, in telling of it afterward. Be that as it may, it is certain
that after urging McLean to take a good rest where he was and to come
again and "sun himself" on their piazza, and being unaccountably cordial
in his monologue (for the younger officer hardly knew how to express
himself under the circumstances), the doctor finally vanished. Jeannie
Bruce was so utterly "taken aback" by it all that for some minutes she
totally forgot her part in the little drama. Then, suddenly recalling
the _role_ she was to play, despite the appeal and protest and dismay in
Elinor's pleading eyes, Miss Bruce, too, sped away and the two were left
alone. From the south end of the gallery at Bedlam Miss Forrest looked
smilingly upon the scene and would fain have rewarded Bonnie Jean by
blowing a kiss to her, but Jeannie's eyes were focussed on a little
party of horsemen just dismounting in front of the commanding officer's.
They might bring news from the cantonment,--perhaps a little note from
her own particular hero, Mr. Hatton.
Nearing them she recognized the leader as a sergeant of Captain Terry's
troop, and knew well from the trim appearance of the men and their
smooth-shaven cheeks and chins that they were just setting forth, not
just returning from the field. The adjutant came hurrying down the
steps of the major's quarters just as she reached the gate, and raised
his forage-cap at sight of her.
"You can start at once, sergeant," she heard him say. "Now remember:
to-morrow evening will be time enough for you to land your party at
Fort Russell. Report on arrival to the commanding officer, and permit
none of your men to go into Cheyenne until he sends you. Then you are
to return here with whatever may be intrusted to your care."
She was not at all surprised on reaching home to find her mother and
Mrs. Miller watching with eager eyes the departure of the cavalrymen.
McLean and Nellie Bayard saw it too, and it gave them something to talk
about a whole hour that afternoon, and paved the way for another talk
the next day--and the next.
That night, in quick succession, the telegraph brought four despatches
to Laramie. As in duty bound, the messenger went first to the
commanding officer, who held out his hand for all four and was
surprised at being accorded only two. "These are for Miss Forrest,
sir," said the messenger. The major broke the envelope of his own,
glanced at the first, and snapped his fingers with delight and
exultation.
"They've got him, Lizzie!" he chuckled to his eager helpmate. Then he
tore open the other. The glad look vanished in an instant; the light of
hope, relief, and satisfaction fled from his eyes and the color from
his cheeks. "My God!" he muttered, as his hand fell by his side.
"What is it, dear?" she queried, anxiously.
"Forrest is coming--post-haste. Will be here to-morrow night. Now she's
got to be told."
"Then, as it is all my fault, I must be the one," was the reply.
But even as they were discussing the matter, irresolute, distressed,
there was a ring at the bell; and in a moment who should enter the
parlor, holding in her hand those fateful telegrams, but Miss Forrest
herself? She came straight toward them--smiling, and Mrs. Miller and
her half-dazed major arose to greet her.
"I suppose I may be taken into official confidences to-night; may I
not, major?" she said, gayly. "Mr. Holmes has probably wired us news
which we can exchange. I congratulate you on the recovery of your
deserter, and you can rejoice with me in the recovery of my diamonds."
"Your diamonds!" exclaimed the major and his good wife in a breath.
"When--how were they taken? Why did you not tell us?"
"They were taken from my room--from my locked trunk--the night of Dr.
Bayard's dinner,--the same night that his porte-monnaie and his
beautiful amethyst set were stolen from Mr. Holmes. I did not tell any
one at first, because of Mrs. Forrest's prostrated condition, and
because at first I suspected her servant Celestine and thought I could
force her into restoring them without letting poor Ruth know anything
about it. Then I couldn't speak of it, for the next discovery I made
simply stunned me and made me ill. Then, finally, I told Mr. Holmes,
and he took the matter in charge. You have heard from my brother, too?"
she asked eagerly. "I am rejoiced at his coming, for it will do her a
world of good, and she is wild with excitement and happiness now. How
was it all managed, major? He wrote to me a fortnight ago that with the
prospect of incessant fighting before them it was impossible for him to
ask for leave of absence, and begging me to help Ruth in every way in
my power and save her from worry of any kind. You see how I was placed.
And now, all of a sudden, he is virtually ordered in, he wires me, and
can attribute it to nothing but dangerous illness on her part. Did you
get it for him? I _know_ you did."
Miller and his wife looked at her, then at one another in dumb amaze.
What could he say? How could he force himself to tell this brave and
spirited and self-sacrificing girl of the cloud of suspicion with which
she had been enveloped!
"Tell me about the diamonds," gasped Mrs. Miller to gain time. "Were
they valuable? Though of course they must have been. Everything of
yours is so beautiful and--well, I must say it all now--costly."
"They were a present from my uncle, Mr. Courtlandt," she answered,
simply. "I valued them more than anything I had. The trunk was entered
by false keys, and the diamonds were taken out of their locked case and
spirited away. My first suspicion attached to Celestine and her soldier
friend. They had been aroused before at Robinson. Then came this
stunning surprise in my discovery next day, and a week of great
indecision and distress. Now, of course, the inspiration of the villany
is captured, though more than ever do I suspect Celestine as being
confederate, or possibly principal actor. She has been utterly daft the
last four days and constantly haunting the post-office for a letter
that never comes."
"She will be wild enough when she knows the truth," said Miller,
hoarsely. "The scoundrel had a wife in Denver, where he was finally
tracked and jailed. It was she who offered the diamonds in pawn. They
did not manage things well, and should have waited, for he had over two
hundred dollars,--must have had,--for you and Mr. Holmes were not the
only losers here."
"Who were the others?" she quickly asked.
"Mr. Hatton and Mr. McLean."
"Mr. McLean! Oh, the shame of it!" Miss Forrest paced rapidly up and
down the parlor floor, her eyes flashing, her cheeks flushed, her hands
nervously twisting the filmy handkerchief she carried. Her excitement
was something utterly foreign to her, and neither Miller nor his wife
could understand it. Suddenly, as though by uncontrollable impulse, she
stopped before and faced them.
"Major Miller!" she exclaimed, "I must tell you something. I had made
up my mind to do it yesterday. It will not add to my faint popularity
here, but I respect you and Mrs. Miller. I know you are _his_ friends,
and I want your advice. How am I to make amends to Mr. McLean? What am
I to say to him? Do you know that for a few days of idiocy I was made
to believe that you suspected him of the thefts? and it was his
handkerchief I found on the floor behind my trunk. What will the man
think of me? And yet I _must_ tell him. I cannot sit by him day
after day, see him, speak with him, and have my heart hammering out
the words, 'He thinks you are his friend, and you thought him to be a
thief.'"
It was more than Miller could stand. "Miss Forrest! Miss Forrest!" he
exclaimed, as his wife sank into an easy-chair and hid her face in her
hands. "You cover me with shame and confusion. Never in my life have I
heard of so extraordinary a complication as this has been! never have I
been so worried and distressed! My dear young lady, try and hear me
patiently. You have been far more sinned against than sinning. A few
hours ago Dr. Bayard--he who led you in your suspicions, for he told me
so--left here crushed and humbled to find that he had been so blind and
unjust. But I would gladly exchange places with him, for I've been
worse. I've been weak enough to be made to look with other's eyes and
not my own. McLean was indeed involved in grave suspicion, but nothing
as compared with that which surrounded another,--a woman who was
entitled to our utmost sympathy and protection because her natural
protector was in the field far from her side,--a woman who did find
friends and protectors in my young officers,--McLean and Hatton,--God
bless 'em for it! for they stoutly refused to tell a thing until it was
dragged from them by official inquiry, and then they had burned every
tangible piece of evidence against her. She was at Robinson last
winter, and money and valuables were constantly disappearing. Silken
skirts were heard trailing in dark hall-ways at night; her form was
seen in the room of the plundered officers. The stories followed her to
Laramie. The night McLean and Hatton were robbed her silken skirts were
heard trailing up the north hall of Bedlam and her feet scurrying over
the gallery. Her handkerchief was found at McLean's bureau, and, while
they were all waiting for her at Mrs. Gordon's, McLean himself collided
with a feminine shape in the darkness out on the parade, and it slipped
away without a word as though fearing detection. The night of the
robbery at Bayard's she was alone up-stairs. Another night she was seen
entering the hall-way without ringing the bell or knocking at the door.
Another evening I, who was in the Bayards' library, listened for ten
minutes to some one who was striving to pick the lock and make a secret
entrance while Elinor was confined to her room and the doctor was known
to be a quarter of a mile away at the hospital. At last, wearying of
waiting for the thief to effect an entrance and permit of my seeing him
or her in the hall, I sprang out upon the piazza and found--you. Then
that night I strove to see Hatton and wring from him his knowledge of
what had been going on in Bedlam. You implored him not to go. You,
unwittingly, made him and, through him, McLean believe it was your own
trouble you sought to conceal; and, though I thank God I was utterly
mistaken, utterly wrong in my belief, I crave your forgiveness, Miss
Forrest. It was I who urged that your brother be sent here at once,
though the general believes it was on Mrs. Forrest's account, that he
might put an end to these peculations and restore what property could
be recovered from you,--you who have suffered a loss far greater than
all the others put together and never said a word about it."
And poor Miller, who had never made so long a speech in his life
before, turned chokingly away. Then Mrs. Miller spoke, and Miss
Forrest's dilated eyes were turned slowly from the major's bulky shape
to the matronly form upon the sofa and the woe-begone face that
appeared from behind the handkerchief. Miss Forrest's cheeks had paled
and her lips were parted. She had seized and was leaning upon the back
of a chair, but not one word had she spoken. As Mrs. Miller's voice was
heard, it seemed as though a slight contraction of the muscles brought
about a decided frown upon her white forehead, but she listened in
utter silence.
"Indeed, Miss Forrest, you musn't blame the major too much. He wouldn't
have listened to a word against you--if--if it hadn't been for me. I
was all at fault. But I couldn't have believed a word against you had
it not been for those letters from Robinson. They--they----"
And here Mrs. Miller had recourse to her handkerchief, and Miss Forrest
stretched forth her hand as though to urge her say no more. There was
intense silence in the parlor a moment. Then through the open windows
came the sudden sound of a scuffle, a woman's shriek, a sudden fall,
voluble curses and ravings in Celestine's familiar tones, and the rush
of many feet toward Bedlam.
Seizing his cap and hurrying thither, the major pushed his way through
an excited group on the lower gallery. The sergeant of the guard,
lantern in hand, was wonderingly contemplating the Scotch "striker"
Lachlan, who firmly clung to the wrist of the struggling, swearing
girl, despite her adjurations to let her go. Other men from the
quarters were clustered around them, hardly knowing what to say, for
Lachlan contented himself with the single word "thief!" and never
relaxed his grasp until the major bade him do so, but instantly renewed
it as his prisoner attempted to spring away. McLean came limping to the
scene from the direction of the doctor's quarters just as Miss Forrest,
too, appeared, and him Lachlan addressed:
"I found her rummaging in the bureau, sir."
And then Miss Forrest's quiet voice was heard as soon as the major's
orders to bring a gag had silenced the loud protestations and
accusations of the negress.
"It is as we supposed, major. That is the skirt of an old silk I gave
her last winter."
An hour later Celestine was locked in a room at the laundress's
quarters, where stout "Mrs. Sergeant Flynn" organized an Amazon guard
of heroines, who, like herself, had followed the drum for many a year;
who assured the major the prisoner would never escape from their
clutches, and whose motto appeared to be, "Put none but Irishwomen on
guard to-night."