"Your engagement. I had heard it rumored before, and Mrs. Dupont assured me it was true."
"But it is not true, Sergeant Hamlin"—indignantly. "I cannot imagine how such a report ever started. Lieutenant Gaskins has been very friendly; has—" her voice breaking slightly, "even asked me to marry him, but—but I told him that was impossible. He has been just as kind to me since, but there is nothing, absolutely nothing between us. I have never spoken about this before to any one."
If Hamlin's heart leaped wildly at this swift denial, there was no evidence of it in his quiet voice.
"The point is, Miss Molly, that Mrs. Dupont, and those connected with her, think otherwise. They are presuming on Gaskins' being in love with you. Mrs. Dupont can be very seductive. Little by little she has drawn the Lieutenant into her net. Believing him engaged to you, they have him now where he must either pay money for silence or be exposed. Just how it was worked, I do not know. The shooting last night was done to convince him they were serious. The fact that Gaskins later denied knowing who his assailants were—even endeavored to accuse me—is abundant proof of their success." He hesitated, wondering at her silence. "What puzzles me most is why you were present."
"Present? Where?"
"At this quarrel with Gaskins last evening. As I ran by toward the scene of the shooting I passed you hiding at the angle or the barrack wall. Of course, I have mentioned the fact to no one. That was why I made no attempt to defend myself when arrested."
She gasped for breath, scarcely able to articulate.
"You believe that? You think that of me?"
"I may have been deceived; I hope so; there was but little light, and I got merely a glimpse," he explained hastily.
"You were deceived," impetuously. "I was not out of the house that evening. I was in the parlor with my father when those shots were fired. You are sure you saw a woman there—hiding?"