senger. "Do you know him?"

"Certainly I know him; he is in my employ, the sailing master of my
yacht."

Pluto came in again and announced, "Mahs Kenneth not in the house;
he gone somewhere out to the quarters." Masterson received the news
with evident annoyance. There was a moment of indecision as he glanced
from the stranger to Monroe, who had sauntered through the open
window, and across to Judithe, who gave him one glance which he
interpreted to mean she wished he was somewhere else. But he only
smiled and--remained.

"There is only one thing left for me to do in Colonel McVeigh's
absence," said Masterson, addressing the group in general, "and that
is to investigate this affair myself, as every minute's delay may mean
danger. Madame Caron, we are forced to believe this man is a spy."
Judithe smiled incredulously, and he watched her keenly as he
continued: "More, he is associated with a clever French creole called
Louise Trouvelot, who says she is your maid and who is at present
under surveillance in Savannah, and they both are suspected of being
only agents for a very accomplished spy, who has been doing dangerous
work in the South for many months. I explain so you will comprehend
that investigation is necessary. This man," and he pointed to the
other stranger, who now stepped inside, "has followed him from the
coast under special orders."

"What a dangerous character you have become!" said Judithe, turning to
her messenger with an amused smile. "I feared that beard would make
you look like a pirate, but I never suspected _this_ of you--and you
say," she added, turning to Masterson, "that my poor maid is also
under suspicion? It is ridiculous, abominable! I must see to it at
once. The girl will be frightened horribly among such evidences of
your Southern chivalry," and she shrugged her shoulders with a little
gesture of disdain. "And what, pray, do you intend doing with my
sailor here?"

The man had been staring at Masterson as though astounded at the
accusations. But he did not speak, and the Confederate agent never
took his eyes off him.

"Ask him his name," he suggested, softly, to Masterson, who took paper
and pencil from the desk and handed it to the suspect. "Write your
name there," he said, and when it was quickly, good naturedly done,
the self-appointed judge read it and turned to Judithe.

"Madame Caron, will you please tell me this man's name?" and the
messenger himself stared when she replied, h