"Bah!" said Ray. "The idea of showing a pistol to such a whelp of cowardice! Hand me the letter!" And with an impatient step forward, he stood towering over the cringing, shrinking, pitiful object in the chair. The nerveless hands presently drew forth a letter from an inner pocket. This Ray quickly seized; glanced hurriedly over it, stowed it in his blouse, then walked to the door.
Fancying him going, Gleason's drunken wits began to rally. He half rose, and with a face distorted with rage, shook his fist, and his high, reedy, querulous tenor could have been heard all over the house.
"You think you've downed me, but, by God! you'll pay for this! You'll see if in one month's time you don't bemoan every insult you put upon me, and if she don't wish——"
"Silence! you whelp, you drivelling cur! Don't you dare utter her name! Just what I'll do about this infamous business I don't know—yet. A woman's name is too sacred to be dragged into court, even to rid the service of such a foul blot as you; but, now mark me: by the God of heaven, if you ever dare bring up this matter again to a single soul, I'll kill you as I would a mad dog."
And with one long look of concentrated wrath, contempt, and menace, Ray turned his back upon his abject enemy and left him. Gleason's orderly entering the room a minute after was told to hand him a tumbler and the whiskey-bottle, and with shaking hand the big subaltern tossed off a bumper, while the man went on strapping and roping his trunks and field-kit. Half an hour afterwards, half sobered and partially restored, he was able to say a brief word of farewell to the post commander,—a venomous word.
Meantime, stopping at his quarters a moment to return his revolver and wash his hands, Ray went up the row to Truscott's. He had not time to knock. Grace was waiting for his coming with an intensity of eagerness and anxiety, and the moment she heard his step flew to the door and admitted him, leading, as before, the way to the parlor.
Mrs. Turner had, meantime, been apprised by some of her infantry friends that Mrs. Truscott had sent a note to Mr. Ray, and also that there must be something queer going on. Mr. Ray had been much agitated at first and had hurried thither, and heaven only knows the variety of conjectures propounded. By the time Ray was seen coming up the row again there were four ladies on Mrs. Turner's piazza, who were vehemently interested in his next move. They watched his going to Truscott's; but, of course, watching was perfectly justifiable in view of their anxiety about her.
"Did you see?" said Mrs. Turner. "He didn't even knock. She was waiting to let him in."
It was by no means an unfrequent thing for any one of the ladies of the garrison to receive a visit from some old and tried friend of hers and her husband's while the latter was in the field. Mrs. Turner never thought anything of having officers call day or evening, though, as a rule, there was a sentiment against it, and the majority of the ladies—especially the elders—thought it wrong for the young matrons to receive the visits of young officers at any time when the head of the house was far away. Now that there were only four young officers in garrison and more than a dozen ladies, the feeling had strengthened to the extent of considerable talk. It was therefore the unanimous view of the ladies on Mrs. Turner's piazza that in Mrs. Truscott's receiving two visits from Mr. Ray in one morning, under circumstances provokingly mysterious, there was something indecorous, to say the least, and unless they knew the why and the wherefore, it was their intention to so declare. "Indeed!" said Mrs. Turner, "I think Mrs. Truscott ought to be spoken to."
Utterly oblivious of this most proper and virtuous espionage, Ray had returned to Mrs. Truscott. She looked at him with imploring eyes as they entered the parlor.