"If he's bound to be up and doing something, though," he
added, "send him out with a squad of men and orders to hunt for
Downs."
Cutler had never even thought of it. Downs was still missing. No one
had seen him. His haunts had been searched to no purpose. His horse
was still with the herd. One man, the sergeant of the guard, the
previous day, had marked the brief farewell between the missing man
and the parting maid--had seen the woman's gloved hand stealthily put
forth and the little folded packet passed to the soldier's ready palm.
What that paper contained no man ventured to conjecture. Cutler and
Graham, notified by Sergeant Kenna of what he had seen, puzzled over
it in vain. Norah Shaughnessy could perhaps unravel it, thought the
doctor, but he did not say.
Cutler came forth from the shaded depths of the broad hallway to face
the dazzling glare of the morning sunshine, and the pale, stern,
reproachful features of the homeless lieutenant, who simply raised his
hand in salute and said: "I've been ready two hours, sir, and the
runners are long gone."
"Too long and too far for you to catch them now," said Cutler,
catching at another straw. "And there is far more important matter
here. Mr. Blakely, I want that man Downs followed, found, and brought
back to this post, and you're the only man to do it.
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