when the butler spoke. "A
messenger from headquarters is at the door, sir. Says he has a dispatch
to deliver in person. Shall I send him up?"

It was the General's library, and Strain was wondering what was going on
in the General's parlor. He knew of the lady superior. He knew the story
of little Pancha, her brave, uncomplaining conduct the night of the
wreck, and of her being placed in the convent of the gray sisters. He
decided to go to the hall door himself, and was astonished to hear the
sound of sobbing as he passed the parlor. Mechanically he took and
receipted for the dispatch. Slowly, absently he retraced his steps,
listening to the strange sounds, a pleading, choking, girlish voice,
soothing words in the gentle, loving woman's sweet tones, the occasional
gruff monosyllables from the General himself. Strain reached the library
again in something like a dream, finding Petty stalking up and down,
tugging at his slim mustache, and nervously expectant of further
question, but none came. They were startled by the quick, hurried
footsteps of the General, as he waddled back to join them, and burst in,
red-faced, ruffled, apoplectic.

"Strain--Petty, this thing has got to be settled somehow at once! That
young woman--Ugh! damn the gout! Here, Strain--Don't you go, Petty; you
won't do--Hold on! Yes, you'll have to, by Jove! There's no time to be
lost. Go and say to Mr. Loring, with my compliments, I desire to see him
a moment in the morning before he sails, and-d--He's--he's released from
arrest--It's all--it's all--well, not all of it, but--damnation! I can't
explain now. Go Petty--go! Tell him he's released--relieved, and Strain,
you issue the order relieving him at once, and directing him to proceed
without delay to his new station. I want to get the order out before
those damned fellows at Washington can order it themselves. What's that
you've got?"

"It's the order from those damned fellows at Washington," said Strain.

CHAPTER XVIII.

Once upon a time a very level-headed old soldier was commandant of
cadets at West Point, and one day one of his assistants, an energetic
young officer, came hastily in to say that he had just happened upon a
cadet duel at Fort Clinton, had captured one of the participants and
placed him under arrest, but the principals, seconds and most of those
present had managed to escape. The veteran listened grimly a moment and
then said:

"Were they actually fighting when you go