He was a dashing fellow,
a West Pointer,--and a Southerner, too,--a Virginian."
"A Southerner!" echoed Brant quickly.
"Yes, sir."
"Search him again," said Brant quietly. He had recovered his usual
coolness, and as the captain again examined the body, he took out his
tablets and wrote a few lines. It was an order to search the quarters
of Lieutenant Wainwright and bring all papers, letters, and documents to
him. He then beckoned one of the detail towards him. "Take that to the
provost marshal at once. Well, Captain," he added calmly, as the officer
again approached him, "what do you find?"
"Only this, sir," returned the captain, with a half smile, producing a
small photograph. "I suppose it was overlooked, too."
He handed it to Brant.
There was a sudden fixing of his commanding officer's eyes, but his face
did not otherwise change.
"It's the usual find, General. Always a photograph! But this time a
handsome woman!"
"Very," said Clarence Brant quietly. It was the portrait of his own
wife.
CHAPTER II.
Nevertheless, so complete was his control of voice and manner that, as
he rode on to his quarters, no one would have dreamed that General Brant
had just looked upon the likeness of the wife from whom he had parted in
anger four years ago.
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