"Then begin there," and she stood aside, the door flung open. "It must
require great bravery to hunt down an unarmed man."

"I only know you are going to regret those words when you learn the
truth. There is a mistake here, but one others must rectify. Your
actions merely confirm my belief that Le Gaire sought refuge in this
building. I am going to know before I withdraw my men."

She was not quite so defiant, not quite so certain, yet she did not
move.

"Will you tell me--has he been here?"

"Why do you want to know?"

I hesitated, not really knowing myself, suddenly made aware that I had
no true purpose in the search. My embarrassment confirmed her suspicion.

"Revenge, wasn't it?" scornfully. "A desire to complete the work begun
yonder. I'll answer if you wish me to. Captain Le Gaire came here to me
wounded, and seeking shelter. I helped him as I would any Confederate
soldier. But he is not here now--see, the room is empty; yes, search it
for yourself."

It was useless arguing, useless denying--the girl was in a state of mind
which no assertions of mine could combat.

"Then where is he now?"

"I have no means of knowing--safely away from the house, I hope. I--I
left him here when I went down stairs; when I came back he was gone."

"And you say he was wounded?"

"Certainly--you ought to know, the blow of an assassin, not a soldier."

She looked straight at me, her cheeks red, her eyes burning with
indignation. Then, as though she could bear my presence no longer, she
swept into the room, and closed the door in my face. It was an action of
such utter contempt that I actually staggered back, grasping the rail of
the stair. What in the name of Heaven had gained possession of the girl?
What infernal lie had been told her? By all the gods, I would find Le
Gaire, and choke the truth out of him. My head ached yet with the blow
he had dealt me, but this hurt worse. I had a reason now for running
the man down. Wherever he had gone, even into the Confederate camp, I
vowed I would follow. But first the house: I could conceive of no way in
which he could have gotten out--there was a guard in front, and I had
locked the rear door. I went at the task deliberately, coolly,
determined to overlook nothing. There was something of value at stake
now, and my mind was as busy as my hands and eyes. How did he ever
succeed in getting to Billie? I had locked her door, and taken away the
key. It was not until I invaded the l