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."

"And you actually believed all this of me?"

"Why," bewildered, "he was a soldier, and my father's friend. How could
I imagine he would run without cause? His story sounded true, as he told
it, and he was hurt."

"He must have got that when he fell--his head struck something. And is
that all?"

"Yes; only we talked about how he might get away. He was here