“That is Lieutenant Pennington.”
“His full name is Gilbert Pennington,” put in a soldier standing by, who had overheard the conversation.
“Humph! He told me it was Gilbert. I wonder why—by George!” And of a sudden Nuggy Polk’s face grew dark.
“What did you say?” asked the soldier the young man had first addressed.
“Nothing,—that is, I was under the impression the lieutenant’s last name was Gilbert. Where does he come from, do you know?”
“He’s a Southerner.”
“You don’t know anything about him further than that?”
The soldier shook his head. “I might find out for you,” he added.
“Thanks, but it won’t be necessary,” replied Nuggy Polk, and walked away, his mind filled with sudden and strange forebodings.