The sergeant-major, fully conscious of the suspicions aroused by his disordered appearance, rallied his faculties. “Not likely,” he said, with a short laugh. “After I got outside I knew it was no good going there to look for that young snippet. He'd no more think of going there than he would of flying. I walked a little way down the road—for exercise—and then strolled back.”
“But—my nightgown?” said the wondering Mrs. Ward.
“Put it on to frighten the constable,” said her husband.
He stood up and allowed her to help him pull it off. His face was flushed and his hair tousled, but the bright fierceness of his eye was unquenched. In submissive silence she followed him to bed.
He was up late next morning, and made but a poor breakfast. His after-dinner nap was disturbed, and tea was over before he had regained his wonted calm. An hour later the arrival of a dignified and reproachful Mr. Farrer set him blazing again.
“I have come to see you about last night,” said Mr. Farrer, before the other could speak. “A joke's a joke, but when you said you would come I naturally expected you would keep your word.”
“Keep my word?” repeated the sergeant-major, almost choking with wrath.
“I stayed there in that lonely cottage from twelve to three, as per agreement, waiting for you,” said Mr. Farrer.
“You were not there,” shouted the sergeant-major.
“How do you know?” inquired the other.