“And who are you?” the sergeant demanded, still truculent over the interruption.
“Miss Vedant!”
“Oh!” The voice, borne on the wings of the air, was now smooth and soft as oil. “Excuse me, miss, for speaking as I did. I mistook you for one of those amateurs that’s always bothering around. I’m sorry, miss, but Captain Grail ain’t at the post just now.”
“Do you know where he is, then? Or could you get hold of him for me?”
“I haven’t the slightest idea where he is, ma’am.” The sergeant’s stiff tone seemed also to indicate that neither did he care. Evidently he was of the party to whom Grail’s very name had become hateful.
Recollecting, however, to whom he was talking, he added, less churlishly: “The adjutant, ma’am, as I understand it, hasn’t been on the reservation since seven o’clock last night, and he left no word where he was going.”
“Nor when to expect him back?”
“Nor when to expect him back,” the sergeant echoed, a trifle cynically, for it was a matter of general belief at the barracks that Grail, unable to face the charges against him, had skipped out. Still, it was not for him to voice any such rumor to the colonel’s daughter, and he inquired diplomatically: “In case he does come in, ma’am, is there any message you wish to leave for him?”
“No; I guess not.” She hesitated. “No. I will try to call him up later in the day.”
Bitterly disappointed at the failure, and doubtful whether another opportunity would be granted her to reach the attic, she leaned her head in her two hands over the table, and tried to decide what to do.