“Connors.  Some river-rat the recruiting officers picked up in New York; in the guard-house most of the time; driver for Major McDonald when he happens to be sober enough.”

“That is where I saw him then, driving the ladies.  Knew I had seen that mug before.”

Left alone, except for the infantry man at the other side of the entrance, and with nothing to do beyond keeping back the little crowd of curious watchers thronging the steps, Hamlin interested himself in the assembly, although keenly conscious of those two men who continued to linger, staring into the brilliantly lighted room.  That the two were closely involved with Mrs. Dupont in some money-making scheme, closely verging on crime, was already sufficiently clear to the Sergeant’s mind.  He had overheard enough to grasp this fact, yet the full nature of the scheme was not apparent.  Without doubt it involved Gaskins as a victim; possibly Barrett also, but Hamlin was not inclined to interfere personally for the protection of either of these officers.  They could look after themselves, and, if they succumbed to the charms of the lady, and it cost something, why, that was none of his affair.  But somehow the suspicion had come to him that he had accidentally stumbled upon a more complicated plot than mere blackmail.  Mrs. Dupont’s intimacy with Molly, and the use she was making of her distant relationship with the Major to further her ends, made him eager to delve deeper into her real purpose.  At least these two, apparently ignorant of their guest’s true character, should be warned, or, if that was impossible, protected from imposture.  Their open friendliness and social endorsement were the woman’s stock in trade at Dodge, and whatever the final denouement might be, McDonald and his daughter would inevitably share in the ensuing disgrace of discovery.  Even if they were not also victimized, they would be held largely responsible for the losses of others.  Had Hamlin been a commissioned officer he would have known what to do—­his plain duty as a friend would have taken form in a frankly spoken warning.  But, as it was, the chains of discipline, of social rank, made it seemingly impossible for him to approach either the Major or his daughter openly.  He did not actually know enough to venture such an interview, and mere suspicion, even though coupled with his former intimacy with the woman, was not sufficient excuse for his interference.  The Major would treat the revelation with indifference, even disbelief, and Miss Molly might even resent his meddling in the affair.  Besides he was not altogether convinced that the girl had not been actually present at, and in some manner connected with, the attack on Gaskins.  The memory of that face, shrinking behind the corner of the barrack wall, remained clear in his mind.  He might be mistaken, but perhaps it would be best to go slow.