for
speech. He was a cavalry sergeant, a gray-beard, and, with my first
movement, was tugging at a weapon.

"Hold on there, my buck!" he said gruffly. "None o' that, now. By God!
it's a Yank. Bill, come here."

The guard at the front door ran down the hall toward us, his gun thrown
forward.

CHAPTER X

MISS WILLIFRED INTERVENES

Any effort at escape was clearly useless; the noise and shouting had
already attracted the attention of those within, and a half-dozen
officers streamed out through the dining-room door, eager to learn what
had occurred.

"What's the trouble out here, Sims?" demanded the first to appear,
striding forward. "Well, by all the gods, a Yank, and in full regalia!
Where did you discover this fellow?"

"I'd been back fer a drink, sir," explained the sergeant, still eying
me, "an' was just comin' in through ther door yer, when I run inter him,
sneakin' 'long ther wall--thet's ther whole bloomin' story."

The officer, a smooth-faced lad, turned abruptly to me.

"Well, what have you got to say?"

"Nothing," I answered quietly, "you are perfectly welcome to draw your
own conclusions."

"Oh, indeed," sarcastically. "We'll see what more civil answer you'll
make to the general. Sims, bring the fellow along."

The two soldiers grabbed me roughly by the arms, but I made no
resistance, cool enough by this time, although realizing fully the peril
of my position. I was marched in through the open door, and stood up in
the centre of the dining-room, Sims posted on one side of me, the guard
on the other, the officers forming a picturesque background. Beauregard
was on his feet, and Miss Hardy stood between the windows, her hands
clasped, her cheeks red.

"What is all this, gentlemen? A Federal officer in full uniform? How
comes he here?"

I made no attempt to answer, unable to formulate an excuse, and the
young fellow broke in swiftly,

"Sims caught him in the hall, General. He is unarmed, but refuses to
explain."

The general's stern dark eyes were upon my face.

"Hardly a spy, I think," he said quietly. "What is the explanation, sir?
Are you the bearer of a message?"

I started to speak, but before the first uncertain word came to my lips,
the girl swept forward, and stood between us.

"Let me explain," she cried swiftly. "This gentleman is a friend of
Captain Le Gaire's, and was presented to me as Major Atherton, formerly
on General Pemberton's staff--perhaps there may be some here