fore, he had again
despatched his orderly for the bandsman, and in two minutes the latter
appeared, knocked, and stood, cap in hand, within the door. Ray turned
up the lamp and coolly surveyed his man. The two stood a moment
confronting each other in silence. Wolf was very pale, and beads of
sweat were starting on his brow, but the blue eyes never flinched. He
had never served a day under the lieutenant's command, but he knew him
well, as all soldiers know the various officers of their regiments: the
verdict is rarely at fault. He knew there was no trifling with the man
before him; he felt that no slight pretext had called him to his
presence, and the instant he set eyes on him he knew his secret was in
his hands.

"Wolf," said Ray, "have you written any letters to Mrs. Truscott since
the one you left in her yard last week?" The question reads harshly. It
was spoken calmly, without a vestige of menace or sneer; yet the
soldier's hands clinched, as though in fierce convulsion. His forehead
seemed to wrinkle into one mass of corrugations; he bowed his ghastly
face in an agony of shame.

"I ask in no anger. Let me tell you briefly what has happened. I have no
word to add to the reproach you feel. That letter fell into the hands of
a scoundrel. He took it to Mrs. Truscott this day, and threatened her
with full exposure; accused her, in fact, of corresponding with you
because you mentioned other letters."

"Oh, my God! my God! Kill me, Herr Lieutenant, kill me!" was the
soldier's gasping cry, and before Ray could do aught to stay him he had
plunged forward on his face, and lay writhing on the painted floor,
tearing wildly at his hair, calling down curses on himself, on his mad
love, on the hand that penned the fatal letter, on the hound who had
carried it to that innocent,--that angel. Then on his knees, with
outstretched arms, he looked up at Ray, who stood utterly astounded at
his paroxysm of misery and despair. "His name, lieutenant. I implore,--I
demand. I _demand_ his name! Sir, I am not unworthy to ask it. I was a
gentleman in my country. I am a gentleman! How know you this? Where is
he that has done this so foul wrong?"

"Far away by this time. Be calm now. I want the truth in this matter."

"Far away?" He sprang to his feet. "It is that devil; it is that dog
Gleason! He spied upon me. It was he who found the letter. Ach Gott!
Where--when did he dare threaten that--that angel? Where is the
letter?"

"The lette