It was after three, noted Private
Mullins, of that first relief, when from the rear door of the major's
quarters there emerged two forms in feminine garb, and, there being no
hindering fences, away they hastened in the dim starlight, past
Wren's, Cutler's, Westervelt's, and Truman's quarters until they were
swallowed up in the general gloom about Lieutenant Blakely's. Private
Mullins could not say for certain whether they had entered the rear
door or gone around under the deep shadows of the veranda. When next
he saw them, fifteen minutes later, coming as swiftly and silently
back, Mullins was wondering whether he ought not to challenge and have
them account for themselves. His orders were to allow inmates of the
officers' quarters to pass in or out at night without challenge,
provided he "recognized them to be such." Now, Mullins felt morally
certain that these two were Mrs. Plume and Mrs. Plume's vivacious
maid, a French-Canadian damsel, much admired and sought in soldier
circles at the post, but Mullins had not seen their faces and could
rightfully insist it was his duty and prerogative to do so. The
question was, how would the "commanding officer's lady" like and take
it? Mullins therefore shook his head. "I hadn't the nerve," as he
expressed it, long afterwards.
But no such frailty oppressed the
occupant of the adjoining house. Just as the two had reached the rear
of Wren's quarters, and were barely fifty steps from safety, the
captain himself, issuing again from the doorway, suddenly appeared
upon the scene, and in low, but imperative tone accosted them. "Who
are you?" said he, bending eagerly, sternly over them. One quick look
he gave, and, almost instantly recoiling, exclaimed "Mrs. Plume! I
beg--" Then, as though with sudden recollection, "No, madam, I do
not beg your pardon," and, turning on his heel, abruptly left them.
Without a word, but with the arm of the maid supporting, the taller
woman sped swiftly across the narrow intervening space and was lost
again within the shadows of her husband's home.
Private Mullins, silent and probably unseen witness of this episode,
slowly tossed his rifle from the port to the shoulder; shook his
puzzled head; stared a moment at the dim figure of Captain Wren again
in the starlit morning, nervously tramping up and down his narrow
limit; then mechanically sauntered down the roadway, pondering much
over what he had seen and heard during the brief period of his early
morning watch. Reaching the south, the lower, end of his post, he
turned again. He had but ten minutes left of his two-hour tramp. The
second relief was due to start at 3.30, and should reach him at 3.35.
He was wondering would the officer of the day "come nosin' round"
within that time, asking him his orders, and was everything all right
on his post? And had he observed anything unusual? There was Captain
Wren, like a caged tiger, tramping up and down behind his quarters.
At least he had been, for now he had disappeared. There were, or
rather had been, the two ladies in long cloaks flitting in the shadows
from the major's quarters to those of the invalid lieutenant. Mullins
certainly did not wish to speak about them to any official visitor,
whatever he might whisper later to Norah Shaughnessy, the saddler
sergeant's daughter--Norah, who was nurse girl at the Trumans', and
knew all the ins and outs of social life at Sandy--Norah, at whose
window, under the north gable, he gazed with love in his eyes as he
made his every round. He was a good soldier, was Mullins, but glad
this night to get off post. Through the gap between the second and
third quarters he saw the lights at the guard-house and could faintly
see the black silhouette of armed men in front of them. The relief was
forming sharp on time, and presently Corporal Donovan would be
bringing Trooper Schultz, of "C" Troop, straight across the parade in
search of him. The major so allowed his sentry on No. 5 to be relieved
at night. Mullins thanked the saints with pious fervor that no more
ladies would be like to flit across his vision, that night at least,
when, dimly through the dusk, against the spangled northern sky, he
sighted another figure crouching across the upper end of his post and
making straight for the lighted entrance at the rear of the
lieutenant's quarters. Someone else, then, had interest at
Blakely's--someone coming stealthily from without. A minute later
certain wakeful ears were startled by a moaning cry for aid.