ack as swiftly as I could ride. But I never suspected this. Who
were the miscreants?"

"That is a question not yet answered, Captain Grant," replied Mortimer
slowly. "It looks like the work of Pine Robbers. Do you recognize this
fellow?"

"Ay," and from the muffled tone he must have been bending over the body,
"that is 'Tough' Sims, a lieutenant of 'Red' Fagin; there's one more
devil gone to hell. But when did the attack occur? We left here after
dark, and all was quiet enough then. Claire--"

"She was here then? I hardly believed it possible."

"I talked with her--quarrelled with her, indeed. Perhaps that was why she
refused to accompany us to Philadelphia. But what did you mean, Colonel,
when you said you hardly believed it possible she was here? Did some one
tell you?"

"Yes; we caught a fellow in the house when we arrived. He had no time for
escape--rough-looking miscreant, claiming to be a Continental. We have
him under guard in the library."

"He confessed to the whole story?"

"Not a word; claimed to know nothing except that Claire was here. Said he
saw you, and then went away, not getting back again until this morning."

"The fellow is a liar, Colonel. Let me see him; I'll lash the truth out
of his lips. Where did you say he was--in the library?"

I had barely time to rise to my feet when he entered. His eyes swept
across the guard, and then centred upon me. Instantly they blazed with
excitement, although I noticed he took a sudden step backward in the
first shock of surprise, his hand dropping to the butt of a pistol in his
belt.

"By all the gods!" he exclaimed sharply. "If it isn't the spy! I miss the
red jacket, but I know the face, Mister Lieutenant Fortesque."

"Major Lawrence, if you please," I returned quietly.

"We'll not quarrel over the name. I've had occasion to know you under
both; bearing one you was a spy, beneath the other a leader of banditti.
I'll hang you with equal pleasure under either." Suddenly he seemed to
remember where we were, and his face flushed with newly aroused rage.
"But first you'll explain what you are doing here at Elmhurst. Do you
know whose home this is?"

"Most assuredly," determined not to lose my temper, or to be moved by his
threats. "It is the property of Colonel Mortimer, of the Queen's
Rangers."

"And--and you--you came here to again see--the daughter?" he questioned,
as though half regretting the indiscretion of such a suspicion.

"Oh, no, Captain;