Part 16 (2/2)
You were fool enough to show it to him.”
”Captain Armitage, I shall be quite able to show, when the proper time comes, that the photograph I showed Major Sloat was _not_ stolen: it was given me.”
”That is beyond belief, Mr. Jerrold. Once and for all, understand this case. You have compromised her good name by the very mystery of your actions. You have it in your power to clear her by proving where you were, since you were not near her,--by showing how you got that photograph,--by explaining how you came to write so strange a letter.
Now I say to you, will you do it, instantly, or must we wring it from you?”
A sneering smile was the only answer for a moment; then,--
”I shall take great pleasure in confounding my enemies should the matter be brought before a court,--I'm sure if the colonel can stand that sort of thing I can,--but as for defending myself or anybody else from utterly unjust and proofless suspicions, it's quite another thing.”
”Good G.o.d, Jerrold! do you realize what a position you are taking? Do you--”
”Oh, not at all, captain,” was the airy reply, ”not at all. It is not a position I have taken: it is one into which you misguided conspirators have forced me. I certainly am not required to compromise anybody else in order to relieve a suspicion which you, not I, have created. How do you know that there may not be some other woman whose name I propose to guard? You have been really very flattering in your theories so far.”
Armitage could bear no more. The airy conceit and insolence of the man overcame all self-restraint and resolution. With one bound he was at his throat, his strong white hands grasping him in a sudden, vice-like grip, then hurling him with stunning, thundering force to the floor. Down, headlong, went the tall lieutenant, his sword clattering by his side, his slim brown hands clutching wildly at anything that might bear him up, and dragging with him in his catastrophe a rack of hunting-pouches, antlers, and one heavy double-barrelled shot-gun. All came tumbling down about the struggling form, and Armitage, glaring down at him with clinching fists and rasping teeth, had only time to utter one deep-drawn malediction when he noted that the struggles ceased and Jerrold lay quite still. Then the blood began to ooze from a jagged cut near the temple, and it was evident that the hammer of the gun had struck him.
Another moment, and the door opened, and with anxious face Chester strode into the room. ”You haven't killed him, Armitage? Is it as bad as that?”
”Pick him up, and we'll get him on the bed. He's only stunned. I didn't even hit him. Those things tumbled afterwards,” said Armitage, as between them they raised the dead weight of the slender Adonis in their arms and bore him to the bedroom. Here they bathed the wound with cold water and removed the uniform coat, and presently the lieutenant began to revive and look about him.
”Who struck me?” he faintly asked.
”Your shot-gun fell on your head, but I threw you down, Jerrold. I'm sorry I touched you, but you're lucky it was no worse. This thing is going to raise a big b.u.mp here. Shall I send the doctor?”
”No. I'll come round presently. We'll see about this thing afterwards.”
”Is there any friend you want to see? Shall I send word to anybody?”
asked Chester.
”No. Don't let anybody come. Tell my striker to bring my breakfast; but I want nothing to-night but to be let alone.”
”At least you will let me help you undress and get to bed?” said Chester.
”No. I wish you'd go,--both of you. I want quiet,--peace,--and there's none of it with either of you.”
And so they left him. Later Captain Chester had gone to the quarters, and, after much parleying from without, had gained admission. Jerrold's head was bound in a bandage wet with arnica and water. He had been solacing himself with a pipe and a whiskey toddy, and was in a not unnaturally ugly mood.
”You may consider yourself excused from duty until your face is well again, by which time this matter will be decided. I admonish you to remain here and not leave the post until it is.”
”You can prefer charges and see what you'll make of it,” was the vehement reply. ”Devil a bit will I help you out of the thing, after this night's work.”
XIV.
Tuesday, and the day of the long-projected german had come; and if ever a lot of garrison-people were wis.h.i.+ng themselves well out of a flurry it was the social circle at Sibley. Invitations had been sent to all the prominent people in town who had shown any interest in the garrison since the regiment's arrival; beautiful favors had been procured; an elaborate supper had been prepared,--the ladies contributing their efforts to the salads and other solids, the officers wisely confining their donations to the wines. It was rumored that new and original figures were to be danced, and much had been said about this feature in town, and much speculation had been indulged in; but the Beaubien residence had been closed until the previous day, Nina was away with her mother and beyond reach of question, and Mr. Jerrold had not shown his face in town since her departure. Nor was he accessible when visitors inquired at the fort. They had never known such mysterious army people in their lives. What on earth could induce them to be so close-mouthed about a mere german? one might suppose they had something worth concealing; and presently it became noised abroad that there was genuine cause for perplexity, and possibly worse.
To begin with, every one at Sibley now knew something of the night adventure at the colonel's, and, as no one could give the true statement of the case, the stories in circulation were gorgeous embellishments of the actual facts. It would be useless, even if advisable, to attempt to reproduce these wild theories, but never was army garrison so tumultuously stirred by the whirlwind of rumor. It was no longer denied for an instant that the absence of the colonel and his household was the direct result of that night's discoveries; and when, to Mrs. Hoyt's inexpressible relief, there came a prettily-worded note from Alice on Monday evening informing her that neither the colonel nor her mother felt well enough to return to Sibley for the german, and that she herself preferred not to leave her mother at a time when she needed her care, Mrs. Hoyt and her intimates, with whom she instantly conferred, decided that there could be no doubt whatever that the colonel knew of the affair, had forbidden their return, and was only waiting for further evidence to decide what was to be done with his erring step-daughter.
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