ces--and have compelled him more than once to brave
mortal combat. They have done all this, as it appears, while his claims
were perfectly regular, and while they themselves fail to produce the
slightest atom of evidence against him beyond the unsupported assertions
of their own family. What am I, as patron of this regiment, and a
military man of sixty years' experience, to say to this state of
things?"

"Excuse my--my Lord," de Villerai cried in desperation. "I said our
proofs are lost."

"It was your duty to have properly kept them. The opportunity for trial
has been given. The accused has responded and cleared himself. You may
depart, sir."

"Monsieur de Lincy," continued he, addressing the latter, with an
alteration from his severe tone to the kindest of voices, "it almost
moves me to tears to think of the indignities to which you have been
subjected. Your honour is absolved, and Major Collinot is requested to
make entry of this fact on the registers of the company, to avail you in
case these charges should ever be repeated. You are reinstalled with
your full rank and record, and moreover, in order that your
reinstallment may be unequivocal in the eyes of the public, I appoint
you my special _aide-de-camp_ for the review of this morning. Horse
yourself and report at my apartments."

Lecour had stood throughout the interview perfectly motionless--almost
statuesque, except a slight clinching of the hands at times. His
feelings, however, were at the highest possible tension, and his eyes
observant of the slightest changes on the faces of those concerned, and
when he found de Villerai--who was a stranger to him--so helpless, a
feeling of triumph unexpectedly possessed him. He knew, of course, about
the Record--- divined that de Villerai had been entrusted with it--in
fact, through the mysterious means related, it was safe above their
heads locked in his own sleeping chamber. But what he had been uncertain
of was what sort of a man the Quartermaster would turn out to be as a
representative of de Lery--what kind of a case he would make without the
writings--how much of them he would recite--how that recital would be
received by the tribunal--and whether the tribunal would have any regard
whatever to the evidence or condemn him by some instinct of caste
prejudice. While turning these thoughts over like lightning in his mind,
they were brought to a standstill by the pronouncement of Marshal de
Beauveau and the sudden r