But Joyce hardly heard him. “And—and—this means?” she whispered.
“The penitentiary at Columbus.”
Joyce shuddered. “And—and there is no way to prevent this?”
“None. God knows I would if I could.”
“Thank you, Doctor; I might have known this would have to come, but it is so sudden.”
The Doctor went out shaking his head. “I am afraid harm has been done,” he said to himself.
Just as he was getting into his gig to drive away Andrew Harmon came riding by. He glanced up and saw Calhoun sitting by the window. “So, your patient is able to sit up,” he exclaimed, with a sneer. “About time he were in the penitentiary, where he belongs, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know how that concerns you,” replied the Doctor, coldly, as he drove away.
“Oh ho! my fine fellow. I will show you whether it concerns me or not?” muttered Harmon, looking after him.
That night Harmon wrote to the authorities at Columbus, stating it as his opinion that there was a scheme on foot to detain Lieutenant Pennington until he was well enough to slip away. He was not aware that Doctor Hopkins had reported on the condition of his patient every week, and had already sent a letter saying he could be moved with [pg 276]safety, but recommending he be allowed to remain two weeks longer, on account of his weak condition. Harmon not only wrote to Columbus, but also to Mr. Crawford, hinting that it was dangerous for his daughter to care for Calhoun longer. “You know,” he wrote, “that girls of the age of Joyce are inclined to be romantic.”