have followed him, pistol in hand, but Forrester gave him no chance.
Years afterwards Chester again sought her and offered her his love and
his name. It was useless, she told him, sadly. She lived only for her
father now, and would never leave him till he died, and then--she prayed
she might go too. Memories like this _will_ come up at such times in
these same "still watches of the night." Chester was in a moody frame of
mind when about half an hour later he came back past the guard-house.
The sergeant was standing near the lighted entrance, and the captain
called him:

"There's a ladder lying back of the colonel's quarters on the roadway.
Some of those painters left it, I suppose. It's a wonder some of the
reliefs have not broken their necks over it going around to-night. Let
the next one pick it up and move it out of the way. Hasn't it been
reported?"

"Not to me, sir. Corporal Schreiber has command of this relief, and he
has said nothing about it. Here he is, sir."

"Didn't you see it or stumble over it when posting your relief,
corporal?" asked Chester.

"No indeed, sir. I--I think the captain must have been mistaken in
thinking it a ladder. We would surely have struck it if it had been."

"No mistake at all, corporal. I lifted it. It is a long, heavy
ladder,--over twenty feet, I should say."

"There _is_ such a ladder back there, captain," said the sergeant, "but
it always hangs on the fence just behind the young officers'