The sudden upward look, the anxiety in his tone, might well have warned her, but there was something she had to know, something that ever since evening gunfire had been preying on her mind. No. 4's story had spread by this time all over the post, growing, probably, with each repetition. There had been a tragic scene of some kind at Major Dwight's shortly after midnight. Jimmy had prepared her for that much. No. 4 had heard screams; then lights went flitting to and fro, and there was sound of scuffling and running about, and the guard had almost arrested someone who came dashing from the rear gate and was lost in the darkness and the yards below. No, nobody had come to ask for Sandy! It seemed strange that so very few of the officers had even passed that way. Everybody had business at the office, the Club, the barracks, the guard-house; even at Dwight's there had been a sort of impromptu conference, but nobody had been there to disturb them in any way--no officers, at least; but Sandy read the impending truth in his mother's eyes. She was talking nervously, with hardly a pause, as though she wished him to know all she knew before he could speak, and, even as Priscilla moved noiselessly about, brewing his tea and arranging his supper, Marion, the mother, talked rapidly, wretchedly on. Yes, there was something. The notebook had been found and brought home. She would get it for him. It was right there in her desk. Priscilla handed it, and he almost snatched it from her, swiftly turning the leaves; then, seizing it by the back, shook it vehemently. A few scraps and clippings fluttered to the floor, but not the paper he needed. "Who brought it? How did it come?" he demanded, a world of trouble, almost terror, in his eyes. "Major Dwight's man," she answered, her blue eyes almost imploringly fixed upon his face. "_Dwight's_ man! But how, _how_, mother? Was there no word? Was it wrapped, or----?" "Just as you see it, Sandy. He merely said it had been picked up and left at the house. He brought it here when he heard it was yours." The tea stood untasted before him. He had not even taken his seat. Pale to his lips, and with hands that trembled almost as did her own, Sandy stood facing his mother, and Priscilla stepped quietly from the room. "Did he say _who_ found it--and where?" he asked. "He finally said it was--picked up _at_ Major Dwight's," was her answer, and imploringly still the blue eyes searched his face, and for an instant lighted with hope. "But I never set foot at Major Dwight's--I've never been inside his gates since I called there with you. The nearest I've been was the front gate, and then, _this_ couldn't have been with me." "Why, Sandy?"