h to make him see that
Deb should not be brought into contact--"

There was a silence. Cary studied the fire, and Major Churchill unfolded
deftly with his one hand a yellowing paper, glanced over it, and laid it
in a separate drawer. "An order from General Washington--the Andre
matter. Deb shall not visit Roselands again. Dick and I are not going to
have both of Henry's children"--The Major's voice broke. "Pshaw! this
damned weather gives a man a cold that Valley Forge itself couldn't
give!" He unfolded another paper. "What's this? Benedict Arnold! Faugh!"
Rising, he approached the fire and threw the letter in, then turned
impatiently upon the younger man. "Well, Fairfax Cary?"

"Is it still," asked Cary slowly, "your opinion that she does not know?"

"She?"

"Mrs. Rand."

Major Edward dragged a chair to the corner of the hearth and sat heavily
down. He bent forward, a brooding, melancholy figure, a thin old
veteran, grey and scarred. The fire-light showed strongly square jaw,
hawk nose, and beetle brows. When he spoke, it was in a voice
inexpressibly sombre. "I have seen my niece but three times since
September. If you ask me now what you asked me then, I shall answer
differently. I do not know--I do not know if she knows or not!"

"I think, sir, that I have a clue. The hour when he passed Red Fields--"

Major Churchill put up a shaking hand. "No, sir! Remember our bargain.
I'll not hear it. I'll weigh no evidence on this subject. Enough for me
to know in my heart of hearts that this man murdered Ludwell Cary, and
that he dwells free at Roselands, blackening my niece--that he rides
free to town--pleads his cases--does his work--ingratiates himself, and
grows, grows in the esteem of his county and his state! That, I say, is
enough, sir! If you have your clue, for God's sake don't impart it to
me! I've told you I will not make nor meddle." Major Edward began to
cough. "Open the window, will you? The room is damned hot. Well, sir,
well?"

"I'll say no more, then, sir, as to that," Cary answered from the
window. "I wish absolutely to respect your position. It will do no harm,
however, to tell you that I am going to Richmond the day after
Christmas."

"To Richmond! What are you going to Richmond for?"

"I want," replied the other, with restrained passion,--"I want to ride
from Shockoe Hill at three o'clock in the afternoon, with my face to
Roselands, and in my heart the knowledge that I have been foiled and
thw