Harrod told me that he had seen fit to say nothing to her of Peyton's latest escapade. It would not help matters at all and could only cause her distress. Pauline had been told in confidence, and he himself had written full particulars to the judge. The police had made no arrests or discoveries; but twice I had received visits from members of the detective force asking for further description of the burly man who was with Peyton the night of the chase. The younger man, they seemed to think, had got away to Texas, but for some reason they seemed hopeful of catching the other party, who was apparently "wanted" for something for which he could properly be held. It was two nights after the theatre party, and once again we were dining at Moreau's; this time reinforced by Pauline and by Major Williams. It was a lovely evening in the early spring. Already the breezes from the South were freighted with the faint, sweet fragrance of the orange-blossoms; windows were thrown open, and four of us at least were placidly enjoying the spirited scene on the street below. Pauline and the major were in the midst of a pleasant chat; Harrod and I dreamily puffing at our cigars; and over on the sofa Kitty and her now absolutely enslaved Turpin were oblivious to all other objects. He, poor fellow, was bending towards her, his whole soul in his eyes, his whole heart on his lips; speaking in low tones, eagerly, impetuously. She, with feverish flush on her soft cheeks, her eyes veiled by their white lids and fringed with their sweeping lashes, was nervously toying with her gloves, yet listening, painfully listening. Harrod studied them an instant, then looked significantly at me. "It is too bad," he said, with a shrug of his shoulders. "I suppose you see poor Turpin's woe?" I nodded. It was hard for the boy, and Kitty was by no means blameless, but just now her conduct was the source of absolute comfort to me. In my fondness for Amory I was glad to see that now that it came to actual love-making,--now that Turpin was undoubtedly enmeshed and fluttering in her toils, the little coquette was distressed by his vehemence. She was thinking of another, and my hopes for my own young knight were high. There could be no doubt of the situation, for had we not gathered in honor of the major and his gallant young adjutant? Were we not there to break bread once more before parting,--to wish them _bon voyage_ with our stirrup-cups? Their orders had come. Quiet restored to the Crescent City, Major Williams's little battalion was to return forthwith to their station in Kentucky. They were to start that night, and Turpin was facing his fate.