But Priscilla had to promise also to write full confession to the Banner of Light, and it was sent registered. Aunt Marion saw to that; and duly received but never, even in part, was it published—that would be doing violence to editorial ethics.
At three o'clock that afternoon the colonel's adjutant had called ceremoniously at the quarters of Major Dwight, and at four o'clock the colonel's ambulance had followed. Half a thousand eyes, probably, followed that official vehicle as it whirled away townward, a raging captain of cavalry being the sole occupant of the interior, the driver and an orderly conversing in low tones at the front. Major Dwight had come forth with his guest, escorted him down the steps to the waiting wagon, had ostentatiously shaken hands with him twice—thrice; had even held him in conversation as though reluctant to part, and had then gone stalking over to the colonel's quarters with twitching lips and fingers to demand an explanation of this summary expulsion of his guest. If Captain Foster was to be ordered off the post because of a personal encounter with Lieutenant Ray, what was to be done with Mr. Ray? was what the major wished to know, and Colonel Stone, instead of snubbing, censuring or sending him back in arrest, went halfway down the steps to meet him, took him by the hand and said, "I've been expecting you, major, and have much to tell you," beckoned the adjutant to follow and led on into an inner room. The post surgeon was also there, by invitation.
"Major Dwight," said Stone, "I have asked these gentlemen to be present as witnesses to what I have to tell you, and if there's any man of your own corps you'd like to have present, my orderly will fetch him at once. No? Then I'll proceed. I assume you wish to know why Captain Foster was formally invited to proceed on his way this afternoon. You fancy, I believe, and he possibly—probably—told you, it was for attacking Lieutenant Ray at the Canteen. It was not. There are several reasons, and the moment I have told you enough I wish you to say stop. I do not like your fr—your guest, but I desire to say no more at his expense than may be absolutely necessary. Do you understand?"
Dwight bowed gravely. "I think I do, sir," was his answer, and the party settled into chairs and for the moment into silence.
Then Stone began again:
"When Captain Foster arrived here he took occasion to tell me he had just dropped in for a day or two—that he was expecting his orders any moment. Connor, lieutenant-colonel commanding the —th, is a classmate of mine, and in writing me two weeks ago he spoke of the shortage of officers. He said that Foster's application for a month's delay had been negatived by him and that he was then expecting him any moment. Thursday last came another letter. Short as he was of officers, three of his best had been taken away for court-martial duty. Foster's troop was commanded by a sergeant, and going to seed. Foster was apparently lost, for a copy of his order to report without delay had been there a week. His adjutant had wired to Foster's address and got no answer. That evening, as it happened, I met Foster again, and he went out of his way to tell me he couldn't imagine what had become of his orders. He had left directions with his home people to open everything that came and wire him here at once, and nothing had come, at least to him. This was queer. Friday he repeated it. That afternoon at the telegraph office in town the operator asked me if a Captain Foster was at the post. Three messages had come for him, two calling for reply, and he had sent by wire, at least, no answer. Two, said the operator, were from New York, saying important orders were there, and what should they do with them? Now, I don't like double dealing, Dwight. I at once wired Connor that his lost captain was found—here—claiming to be without orders. Connor probably wired the War Department, and on Monday noon came this." Saying which, the colonel took from his desk and held forth a telegram, which Dwight solemnly received and read, then sat one moment in silence. It was from the War Department, Washington, and as follows:
Commanding Officer,
Fort Minneconjou.
If Captain Stanley Foster, —th Cavalry, is still at your post notify him that his orders were sent June —— to his address, New York City. Secwar directs that he proceed at once to Fort Wister and report to his regimental commander for duty. Acknowledge receipt and report action.
"Secwar" being the official telegraphic abbreviation for Secretary of War, that order was beyond appeal. Without a word Dwight carefully refolded the message, arose, and handed it to the post commander. Then, after a moment's pause, straightening up, he spoke.
"I have been wrong, sir, and I—beg your pardon. I, too, had been led to suppose he was awaiting orders. Moreover, he led me to suppose his virtual expulsion was due to his resenting insulting language from Lieutenant Ray. I—will you?—have I your permission, sir, to be absent from parade and the post this evening?"
The surgeon bent quickly forward, his eyes on Stone. The colonel started, faltered, then, pulling himself together, arose, once more extended his hand, which Dwight took mechanically, and then, after a moment's reflection, spoke: