personally.  Then the uselessness of such procedure recurred to him; the fact that nothing could result from their meeting but disappointment and recrimination.  The man evidently disliked him, and would resent any interference; he had something to conceal, something at stake for which he would battle strenuously.  It would be better to let him alone at present, and try to uncover a clue elsewhere.  Later, with more facts in his possession, he could face the Lieutenant and compel his acknowledgment.  These considerations caused him to turn sharply and walk straight toward the ravine.  Yet his investigations there brought few results.  On the upper bank were the marks of a woman’s shoe, a slender footprint clearly defined, but the lower portion of the ravine was rocky, and the trail soon lost.  He passed down beyond the stables, realizing how easily the fugitives, under cover of darkness, could have escaped.  The stable guard could have seen nothing from his station, and just below was the hard-packed road leading to the river and the straggling town.  There was nothing to trace, and Hamlin climbed back up the bluff completely baffled but desperately resolved to unlock the mystery.  The harder the solution appeared, the more determined he became to solve it.  As he came out, opposite the barrack entrance, a carriage drove in past the guard-house, the guard presenting arms, and circled the parade in the direction of officers’ row.  It contained a soldier driver and two ladies, and the Sergeant’s face blushed under its tan as he recognized Miss McDonald.  Would she notice him—­speak to him?  The man could not forbear lifting his eyes to her face as the carriage swept by.  He saw her glance toward him, smile, with a little gesture of recognition, and stood there bareheaded, his heart throbbing wildly.  With that look, that smile, he instantly realized two facts of importance—­she was willing to meet him on terms of friendship, and she had not recognized him the evening previous as he ran past her in the dark.

Hamlin, his thoughts entirely centred upon Miss McDonald, had scarcely noted her companion, yet as he lingered while the carriage drew up before the Major’s quarters, he seemed to remember vaguely that she was a strikingly beautiful blonde, with face shadowed by a broad hat.  Although larger, and with light fluffy hair and blue eyes, the lady’s features were strangely like those of her slightly younger companion.  The memory of these grew clearer before the Sergeant—­the whiteness of the face, the sudden lowering of the head; then he knew her; across the chasm of years her identity smote him as a blow; his breath came quickly and his fingers clenched.

“My God!” he muttered, unconsciously.  “That was Vera!  She has changed, wonderfully changed, but—­but she knew me.  What, in Heaven’s name, can she be doing here, and—­with Molly?”

With straining eyes he stared after them until they both disappeared together within the house.  Miss McDonald glanced back toward him once almost shyly, but the other never turned her head.  The carriage drove away toward the stables.  Feeling as though he had looked upon a ghost, Hamlin turned to enter the barracks.  An infantry soldier leaned negligently in the doorway smoking.