ont in some money-making scheme,
closely verging on crime, was already sufficiently clear to the
Sergeant's mind. He had overheard enough to grasp this fact, yet the
full nature of the scheme was not apparent. Without doubt it involved
Gaskins as a victim; possibly Barrett also, but Hamlin was not inclined
to interfere personally for the protection of either of these officers.
They could look after themselves, and, if they succumbed to the charms
of the lady, and it cost something, why, that was none of his affair.
But somehow the suspicion had come to him that he had accidentally
stumbled upon a more complicated plot than mere blackmail. Mrs.
Dupont's intimacy with Molly, and the use she was making of her distant
relationship with the Major to further her ends, made him eager to
delve deeper into her real purpose. At least these two, apparently
ignorant of their guest's true character, should be warned, or, if that
was impossible, protected from imposture. Their open friendliness and
social endorsement were the woman's stock in trade at Dodge, and
whatever the final _denouement_ might be, McDonald and his daughter
would inevitably share in the ensuing disgrace of discovery. Even if
they were not also victimized, they would be held largely responsible
for the losses of others. Had Hamlin been a commissioned officer he
would have known what to do--his plain duty as a friend would have
taken form in a frankly spoken warning. But, as it was, the chains of
discipline, of social rank, made it seemingly impossible for him to
approach either the Major or his daughter openly. He did not actually
know enough to venture such an interview, and mere suspicion, even
though coupled with his former intimacy with the woman, was not
sufficient excuse for his interference. The Major would treat the
revelation with indifference, even disbelief, and Miss Molly might even
resent his meddling in the affair. Besides he was not altogether
convinced that the girl had not been actually present at, and in some
manner connected with, the attack on Gaskins. The memory of that face,
shrinking behind the corner of the barrack wall, remained clear in his
mind. He might be mistaken, but perhaps it would be best to go slow.

It was a huge, bare hall, although the walls were concealed by flags,
while other draperies were festooned along the rafters. The band was
stationed upon a raised platform at the rear, and a hundred couples
occupied th