Surely the commanding officer must have _some_
rights. Surely it was no time for investigation--_this_ hour of the
night. Five minutes earlier Plume was of the same way of thinking. Now
he believed his wife delirious.
"See to her a moment, Elise," said he, breaking loose from the clasp
of the long, bejeweled fingers, and, scurrying down the stairs, he
came face to face with Dr. Graham.
"I was coming for you," said he, at sight of the rugged, somber face.
"Mrs. Plume--"
"I heard--at least I comprehend," answered Graham, with uplifted hand.
"The lady is in a highly nervous state, and my presence does not tend
to soothe her. The remedies I left will take effect in time. Leave her
to that waiting woman; she best understands her."
"But she's almost raving, man. I never knew a woman to behave like
that."
"Ye're not long married, major," answered Graham. "Come into the air a
bit," and, taking his commander's arm, the surgeon swept him up the
starlit row, then over toward the guard-house, and kept him half an
hour watching the strange interview between Mr. Daly, the agent, and
half a dozen gaunt, glittering-eyed Apaches, from whom he was striving
to get some admission or information, with Arahawa, "Washington
Charley," as interpreter. One after another the six had shaken their
frowsy heads.
Pages:
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91