and in their presence I demand an apology for this attempt to
examine my private, personal letters."

"Captain Masterson!" and the blue steel of McVeigh's eyes flashed in
anger and rebuke. But Masterson, strong in his assurance of right,
held up his hand.

"You don't understand the situation, Colonel. That man is suspected of
being the assistant to a most dangerous, unknown spy within our lines.
He has been followed from Beaufort by a Confederate secret service
agent, whom he tried to escape by doubling on the road, taking
by-ways, riding fully twenty miles out of his course, to reach this
point unobserved."

For the first time the suspected man spoke, and it was to Judithe.

"That is quite true, Madame. I mean that I rode out of my way. But the
reason of it is that I came over the road for the first time; there
were no sign-boards up, and my directions had not been explicit enough
to prevent me losing my way. That is my only excuse for not being here
earlier. I am not landsman enough to make my way through the country
roads and timber."

"You perceive, Colonel McVeigh, the man is in my employ, and has come
here by my orders," said Judithe, with a certain impatience at the
density of the accuser.

"That should be credential enough," and McVeigh's tone held a distinct
reprimand as he frowned at Masterson's senseless accusation, but that
officer made a gesture of protest. He was being beaten, but he did not
mean to give up without a hard fight.

"Colonel, there were special reasons for doubt in the matter. Madame
Caron, apparently, does not know even the man's name. I asked him to
write it--here it is," and he handed McVeigh the paper. "I asked her
to name him--she refused!"

"Yes; I resented the manner and reason for the question," assented
Judithe; "but the man has been the master of my yacht for over a year,
and his name is Pierson--John T. Pierson."

"Correct," and McVeigh glanced at the paper on which the name was
written. "Will you also write the name of Madame Caron's yacht, Mr.
Pierson?" and he handed him a book and pencil. "Pardon me," and he
smiled reassuringly at Judithe, "this is not the request of suspicion,
but faith." He took the book from Pierson and glanced at the open page
and then at her--"the name of your yacht is?--"

"_The Marquise_," she replied, with a little note of surprise in her
voice, as she smiled at Evilena, who had slipped to her side, and
understood the smile. Evilena and she