“A guard!” I broke in.  “There was no guard up here.”

“But there was—­just beyond the head of the stairs.  One of your men too, for his jacket was pinned up, without buttons.  I was close enough to see that.”

“That’s strange; I gave no such orders, and do not believe Miles did.  Did you see the fellow’s face?”

“Only in shadow—­he was young, and without a beard.”

“Go on,” I said, realizing that here was an important discovery, “I will ask the sergeant.”

“Finding the passage blocked I returned to my own room, but left this door ajar.  The disappointment left me angrier than ever, but helpless.  I could only sit down and wait, knowing nothing of what was going on below.  I finally heard the two shots out by the stable, and went to the window.  Three horsemen rode past the corner of the house, and then, a moment or two later, I saw a man running along, crouching behind the fence.  I could not tell who he was, only he had on a gray uniform, and he suddenly turned, and made for the house.  Once he tripped and fell, and got up with his hands to his head as though hurt.  That was the last glimpse I had of him from the window.  Perhaps five minutes later I heard some one moving in the next room.  I supposed it was the guard prowling about, and kept still.  Then the door was pushed open, and Captain Le Gaire came in.”

“But where was the guard then?”

“I don’t know.  I asked, but the captain had seen no one.  I cannot tell you how the man looked, acted, or exactly what he said.  The first glance at him awoke my sympathy, before he had spoken a word, for his uniform was torn and covered with dirt, and his face all blood from a wound on the temple.  He was trembling like a child, and could hardly talk.  I washed his wound out, and bound it up before I even asked a question.  By that time he was himself again, and began to explain.  Is it necessary for me to repeat what he said?”

“I would rather you would; don’t you think I ought to know?”

“I suppose you had, but—­but it is not a pleasant task.  I could not help but believe what he said, for he told it so naturally; he—­he almost seemed to regret the necessity, and—­and I never once dreamed he would lie to me.  Then father said just enough to apparently confirm it all, and—­and other things happened.”

“Yes, I know,” understanding her embarrassment.  “You mustn’t think I blame you.  You have known me such a little while.”

“But I should have sought after the truth, nevertheless, for I certainly had no cause to believe you capable of so cowardly an action.  I—­surely knew you better than that.  But this was what he said:  that you came into the room below promising to release the others, but threatening to take him prisoner with you into the Federal lines.  He protested, and—­and then you referred to me in a way he could not stand, and blows were exchanged.  As a result he dared you to fight him, and you couldn’t refuse before your own men, although you endeavored to back out.  That you chose pistols for weapons, and compelled their acceptance.  On the field, he said, you fired before the word was spoken, and while he was still lying on the ground, shocked by the bullet, you flung the derringer at him, cutting his forehead; then drew your own revolver.  Unarmed, believing he was to be murdered, he turned and ran.”