Something rustling at the head of the stairs caused him to look up
quickly. Something dim and white was hovering, drooping, over the
balustrade, and, springing aloft, he found his wife in a half-fainting
condition, Elise, the invalid, sputtering vehemently in French and
making vigorous effort to pull her away. Plume had left her at 8.30,
apparently sleeping at last under the influence of Graham's medicine.
Yet here she was again. He lifted her in his arms and laid her upon
the broad, white bed. "Clarice, my child," he said, "you must be
quiet. You must not leave your bed. I am sending for Graham and he
will come to us at once."
"I will not see him! He shall not see me!" she burst in wildly.
"The man maddens me with his--his insolence."
"Clarice!"
"Oh, I mean it! He and his brother Scot, between them--they would
infuriate a--saint," and she was writhing in nervous contortions.
"But, Clarice, how?"
"But, monsieur, no!" interposed Elise, bending over, glass in hand.
"Madame will but sip of this--Madame will be tranquil." And the major
felt himself thrust aside. "Madame must not talk to-night. It is too
much."
But madame would talk. Madame would know where Colonel Byrne was gone,
whether he was to be permitted to see Captain Wren and Dr. Graham, and
that wretch Downs. 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. They admitted nothing--knew nothing.