“By merest accident.  Happened to mention meeting him to old Trevor, and he was up in arms in a minute.  Seems Atherton married his niece, and the fellow here couldn’t be the major, for he was shot in a skirmish three weeks ago, and has been in the hospital at Athens ever since.  He’s there now; rode over to Pemberton’s headquarters to make sure, and met Gregory, Chief-of-Staff.  He saw Atherton Saturday, and he wasn’t able to sit up yet.  The fellow here was a Yank—­and you didn’t know it?”

“I very naturally supposed he was what he represented himself to be,” she replied, coming back into the room.  “And when you recognized him as an old acquaintance I never gave the matter another thought.”

“But he came through the lines with you,” bewildered and doubtful.

“The best of reasons why I should never have suspected him of being a Yankee.  He was very pleasant and gentlemanly.”

“Oh, indeed! all a man has to do is smile and say nice things to get you women on his side.”

“Then why don’t you try it?  You are certainly disagreeable enough to-day.”

“Perhaps I am,” endeavoring to laugh.  “But if I could get my hands on that Yank I’d be in far better humor.  Where is he?”

“The last time I saw him,” with provoking coolness, “he was at dinner with General Beauregard and staff.”

“At dinner!  Here!  Good God! he must have nerve.  How did it happen?”

“Through my introduction originally, and then later he was recognized by Captain Bell.”

Le Gaire sank down into a chair, glaring at the girl’s dim, white-robed figure, his teeth savagely clicking in an effort to keep from swearing.  As though to exasperate him yet more she laughed.

“I fail to see the fun,” he snarled impatiently.  “This is no joke, let me tell you, and we’ll both find it out if Beauregard ever learns the truth.  What did they talk about?”

“Army matters mostly.  The general wished information regarding the movement of Johnston’s and Chambers’ forces, and Major Atherton—­”

“Don’t call the fellow that!”

“Then what shall I call him?”

He struck his fist on the table, almost devoid of the power of speech.

“I don’t care, only not that.  I tell you he’s not Atherton, but a sneaking Yankee spy.”

“Why, he was in full uniform!”

“He’ll hang, just the same, if we get him.  Now see here—­did Beauregard let out any facts?”

She drew a quick breath, one hand on her breast, and it seemed to me her voice trembled.

“He talked as he would to one of his own officers.  They discussed the plans of operation quite freely among themselves.”

Le Gaire groaned, his elbows on the table, his head in his hands.  She remained motionless, looking at him.  Suddenly he glanced up.

“I’ll be hanged if I understand you, Billie,” he exclaimed.  “Don’t you care, or don’t you realize what this means?  That fellow has got all our plans, and he’s got safely away with them too, I suppose.”