at an
exceedingly handsome boy! Boy!" he repeated, and now suddenly a doubt
crossed his mind as to the proper sex of the young person who evinced
such a tender interest in Stanislas McKay.

"Some secret romance, probably," he went on, smiling at the thought,
but quickly changing his mood as he remembered how tragic its end was
likely to be.

"I will do all I can to save him, rest assured," he went on aloud,
"and if we recover him from the clutches of the enemy he shall
certainly know how much he owes to you."

The vivid blush that overspread her cheeks at these words betrayed her
completely.

"But, my poor child," went on the provost-marshal, in a kindly,
sympathetic voice, "what are we to do with you? It was madness,
surely, for you to venture here. Have you any friends? Let me see you
safe back to them. Where do you live?"

Mariquita in a low voice explained that she was employed at Mother
Charcoal's.

"Does she know about you?"

"Yes," acknowledged Mariquita, in a still lower, almost inaudible
voice.

"She is a good old soul, and may be trusted to take care of you.
Still, her canteen is no place for such as you. You shall stay with
her, but only till we can send you on to one of the troopships with
female nurses on board."

Having thus decided, Shervinton himself escorted Mariquita to Mother
Charcoal's, and then rode on to headquarters.

He arrived there half-an-hour after Colonel Blythe, and the news he
brought threw fresh light upon the disappearance of poor McKay.

"There is a woman at the bottom of it, of course," said Sir Richard
Airey. "These papers prove it," putting his finger upon the bundle
Shervinton had seized at the Maltese baker's.

"Two women, unless I'm much mistaken," replied the provost-marshal,
and he went on to tell of Mariquita's devotion.

"Devotion, indeed," said the general, "but to no purpose, I fear. We
have little hope of saving McKay. Lord Raglan is in despair. Prince
Gortschakoff refuses distinctly to surrender the poor fellow, or spare
his life."

"One woman's devotion outmatched by another's reckless greed. But,
should McKay be sacrificed, she--his murderess--must not escape," said
Blythe, hotly.

"Ah! but how shall we lay hands on her? Who knows her?" asked Sir
Richard.

"One of my officers--Hyde. We shall get her through him," and Blythe
repeated what the old quartermaster had said that morning.

"Yes, he evidently knows. He would be the best man to pursue her