The Commandant stood for a moment rubbing his chin and staring after the lantern, as it vanished in the fog. With a shake of the shoulders he pulled himself together, marched into the Barracks, and boldly opened the door.
"Miss Gabriel!"
"Major Vigoureux!"
"Certainly, ma'am—these being my own quarters, unless—" He paused and gazed around, as if to make sure that his eyes were not deceiving him.
"Yes, yes—and at this time of night. As I was just saying to Charlotte here, 'Think what a terrible construction one might put on it!'"
The Commandant lifted his eyebrows. ("I behaved like a brute," he confessed afterwards, "but the woman, a few hours before, had shown no mercy to me.") "Indeed, ma'am?" said he. "A construction? Then you must invent one for me, please, since I can think of none."
"We have had the most terrible experience, sir—the most terrible fright! You have seen Mrs. Treacher?"
"Has anything happened to Mrs. Treacher?"
"No—but it all came about through the fog——"
"—and my husband deserting me," put in Mrs. Pope.