find that the roof of his mouth was black, like that of a well-bred
hound; but there is no evidence available on the point.

"There, that is good," he said. "Now set him down, Pete Galbraith.
Yes--so, so! Sergeant Tom, ah, you will wake well, soon. Now the eyes
a little wider. Good. Eh, Sergeant Tom, what is the matter? It is
breakfast time--quite."

Sergeant Tom's eyes opened slowly and looked dazedly before him for a
minute. Then they fell on Pierre. At first there was no recognition,
then they became consciously clearer. "Pretty Pierre, you here in the
barracks!" he said. He put his hand to his head, then rubbed his eyes
roughly and looked up again. This time he saw Jen and her father. His
bewilderment increased. Then he added: "What is the matter? Have I been
asleep? What--!" He remembered. He staggered to his feet and felt his
pockets quickly and anxiously for his letter. It was gone.

"The letter!" he said. "My orders! Who has robbed me? Faith, I
remember. I could not keep awake after I drank the coffee. My papers
are gone, I tell you, Galbraith," he said, fiercely.

Then he turned to Jen: "You are not in this, Jen. Tell me."

She was silent for a moment, then was about to answer, when he turned
to the gambler and said: "You are at the bottom of this. Give me my
papers." But Pierre and Galbraith were as dumbfounded as the Sergeant
himself to know that the letter was gone. They were stunned beyond
speech when Jen said, flushing: "No, Sergeant Tom, I am the thief. When
I could not wake you, I took the letter from your pocket and carried it
to Inspector Jules last night,--or, rather, Sergeant Gellatly carried