Then, in some way, from her saying how ill the captain was looking,
Plume gathered the impression that she had seen him since his arrest,
and asked the question point-blank. Yes, she admitted,--from the
window,--while she was helping Elise. Where was he? What was he doing?
Plume had asked, all interest now, for that must have been very late,
in fact, well toward morning. "Oh, nothing especial, just looking at
his watch," she thought, "he probably couldn't sleep." Yes, she was
sure he was looking at his watch.
Then, as luck would have it, late in the day, when the mail came down
from Prescott, there was a little package for Captain Wren, expressed,
and Doty signed the receipt and sent it by the orderly. "What was it?"
asked Plume. "His watch, sir," was the brief answer. "He sent it up
last month for repairs." And Mrs. Plume at nine that night, knowing
nothing of this, yet surprised at her husband's pertinacity, stuck to
her story. She was sure Wren was consulting or winding or doing
something with a watch, and, sorely perplexed and marveling much at
the reticence of his company commanders, who seemed to know something
they would not speak of, Wren sent for Doty. He had decided on another
interview with Wren.
Meanwhile "the Bugologist" had been lying patiently in his cot,
saying little or nothing, in obedience to the doctor's orders, but
thinking who knows what.
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