nswered
that he had neither seen nor heard from Waring in over forty-eight
hours. This was a facer.

"What's wrong, Cram?"

"Read that," said the captain, placing a daintily-written note in the
aide-de-camp's hand. It was brief, but explicit:

"COLONEL BRAXTON: Twice have I warned you that the attentions of your
Lieutenant Waring to Madame Lascelles meant mischief. This morning,
under pretence of visiting her mother, she left the house in a cab, but
in half an hour was seen driving with Mr. Waring. This has been, as I
have reason to know, promptly carried to Monsieur Lascelles by people
whom he had employed for the purpose. I could of told you last night
that Monsieur Lascelles's friend had notified Lieutenant Waring that a
duel would be exacted should he be seen with Madame again, and now it
will certainly come. You have seen fit to scorn my warnings hitherto,
the result is on your head." There was no signature whatever.

"Who wrote this rot?" asked Reynolds. "It seems to me I've seen that
hand before."

"So have I, and pitched the trash into the fire, as I do everything
anonymous that comes my way. But Brax says that this is the second or
third, and he's worried about it, and thinks there may be truth in the
story."

"As to the duel, or as to the devotions to Madame?" asked Reynolds,
calmly.

"We-ll, both, and we thought you would be most apt to know whether a
fight was on. Waring promised to return to the post at taps last night.
Instead of that, he is gone,--God knows where,--and the old man, the
reputed challenger, lies dead at his home. Isn't that ugly?"

Reynolds's face grew very grave.

"Who last saw Waring, that you know of?"

"My man Jeffers left him on Canal Street just after dark last night. He
was then going to dine with friends at the St. Charles."

"The Allertons?"

"Yes."

"Then wait till I see the chief, and I'll go with you. Say nothing about
this matter yet."

Reynolds was gone but a moment. A little later Cram and the aide were at
the St. Charles rotunda, their cards sent up to the Allertons' rooms.
Presently down came the bell-boy. Would the gentleman walk up to the
parlor? This was awkward. They wanted to see Allerton himself, and Cram
felt morally confident that Miss Flora Gwendolen would be on hand to
welcome and chat with so distinguished a looking fellow as Reynolds.
There was no help for it, however. It would be possible to draw off the
head of the family after a brief call