with you. Good-night, sir!" So Mrs.
Agatha dimpled, curtseyed and sped softly away, surreptitiously
beckoning to the Sergeant.

Left alone, the Major let fall his boots and sinking into a chair sat
staring at the Ramillie coat, chin on breast; then he leaned forward to
take it up but paused suddenly arrested by a fragrance very faint and
elusive yet vaguely familiar; he sighed and sinking deeper into his
chair became lost awhile in reverie. At last he roused himself and
reaching the garment from where Mrs. Agatha had set it on the table,
drew it upon his knees, made as if to feel in the pockets and paused
again for now the fragrance seemed all about him, faint but ineffably
sweet, a sweetness breathing of--Her. And, inhaling this fragrance,
the glamour of her presence was about him, he had but to close his eyes
and she was there before him in all her warm and vivid beauty, now
smiling in bewitching allurement, now plaintive and tender, now
quick-breathing, blushing, trembling to his embrace--even as he was
trembling.

So the Major sat grasping his old coat and sighed and yearned amain for
the unattainable; imagination rioted and he saw visions and dreamed
dreams of happiness as far beyond expression as they were beyond hope
of realisation. Wherefore he groaned, cursed himself for a fool and
casting the Ramillie coat to the floor, set his foot upon it; and
frowning down at this worn-out garment, how should he guess of those
bitter tears that had bedewed its tarnished braid, of the soft cheek
that had pressed it, the white arms that had cradled it so recently?
How indeed should Major d'Arcy as he scowled down at it know aught of
this? Though to be sure there was that haunting fragrance, that
sweetness that breathed of--Her. Suddenly he stooped and picking it
up, raised it to his nostrils; yes it was here--particularly the right
sleeve and shoulder. He closed his eyes again, then opening them very
wide plunged a hand into the nearest pocket.

His pipe! His silver tobacco-box! In another pocket his purse and a
few odds and ends but nothing more. He ransacked the garment
feverishly but in place of will, torn paper and letter, he found only
one other letter, sealed and addressed thus,

"To Major d'Arcy."

Letting the coat slip to the floor he sank back in the chair, staring
long at superscription and seal; then he drew the candle nearer and
opening the letter read as follows:

"DEAR SIR,

If this so