he knew, or at least suspected, the party firing the shot. She
denied at first having been married to Le Fevre, and yet later had been
compelled to acknowledge that marriage. There then was a deliberate
falsehood, which must have been told for a purpose. What purpose? Did
she imagine it would make any difference with him, or did she seek to
shield Le Fevre from discovery? The latter reason appeared the more
probable, for the man must have been in the neighborhood lately, else
where did that haversack come from?

So engrossed was Hamlin with these thoughts that he hardly realized
that some one had lifted the window curtain cautiously. The beam of
light flashed across him, disappearing before he could lift his head to
ascertain the cause. Then a voice spoke, and he leaned back to listen.

"Not there; gone back to the dance likely, while we were at the bar."

"Nobody out there?" this fellow growled his words.

"Some soldier asleep with his head on the rail; drunk, I reckon. Who
was she with this time?"

"Barrett."

"Who? Oh, yes, the fellow who brought in that troop of the Seventh.
Lord, the old girl is getting her hooks into him early. Well, as long
as Gaskins is laid up, she may as well amuse herself somewhere else.
Barrett is rather a good looker, isn't he? Do you know anything about
the man? Has he got any stuff?"

"Don't know," answered the gruff voice. "He 's a West Pointer. Vera
likes to amuse herself once in a while; that's the woman of it. Heard
from Gaskins to-night?"

"Oh, he 's all right," the man laughed. "That little prick frightened
him though. Shut up like a clam."

"So I heard. He 'll pay to keep the story quiet, all right. As soon
as he is well enough to come down here, we 'll tap his bundle. Swore
he was shot by a cavalry sergeant, did n't he?"

"And sticks to it like a mule. Must have it in for that fellow. Well,
it helped our get-a-way."

"Yes, we 're safe enough, unless Gaskins talks, and he 's so in love
with the McDonald girl he 'll spiel out big rather than have any
scandal now. Wish I could get a word with Vera to-night; she ought to
see him to-morrow--compassion, womanly sympathy, and all that rot, you
know, helps the game. Let's drift over toward the Palace, Dan, and
maybe I can give her the sign."

Hamlin caught a glimpse of their backs as they passed out--one in
infantry fatigue, the other, a heavier built man, fairly well dressed
in citizen's clothes. I