Love under Fire Part 36

"An' ye think that feller did it?"

"I don't know who did it. But I should like to discover where that lad hides, and what he is here for. We have accounted for all our men, and searched this floor inch by inch. I began to think Miss Hardy was mistaken, but now you've seen him also."

"An' Murphy," broke in the horrified corporal, edging closer. "Murphy saw him too. Bedad, maybe it was a ghost!"

"Ghosts don't talk, and I never heard of any wearing revolvers. Major, when did you see Billie last?"

I noticed how haggard his face was, and he answered slowly, his hands grasping the stair-rail.

"We were together in the front hall when your men came. You were talking loudly, and the new voices attracted our attention. We both went forward to the head of the stairs."

"You overheard what was said?" I interrupted, a new possibility dawning upon me.

"Much of it, yes," he admitted.

"The plan of attack?--the orders sent me?"

His expression answered.

"And what were you going to do with this information, Major Hardy?"

"Nothing. I considered myself a prisoner on parole. I merely proposed asking your permission to leave the house with my daughter before hostilities began. I started down the stairs for that purpose."

"And Billie?"

"I told her this, and sent her to her room after some things. Before I got down you had disappeared, and I returned up stairs. She was not in her room, nor could I find a trace of her."

I thought rapidly, staring into his bewildered face, insensibly listening to the continuous roar without. It was tragedy within tragedy, the threads of war and love inextricably tangled. What had occurred here during that minute or two? Had she left voluntarily, inspired by some wild hope of service to the South? Did that mysterious figure, attired in our uniform, have anything to do with her disappearance? Did Hardy know, or suspect more than he had already told? By what means could she have left the house? If she had not left where could she remain concealed? Each query only served to make the situation more complicated, more difficult to solve. To no one of them could I find an answer.

"Major, did you tell your daughter why you could not carry that information to your own people?--that you considered yourself a parolled prisoner?"

He hesitated, realizing now what it was I was seeking to discover.

"Why, I may have said something like that. We spoke of the situation, and--and Billie appeared excited, but,--why, Galesworth, you do not imagine the girl would try to carry the news out, alone, do you?"

His doubt was so genuine as to be beyond question. Whatever Billie had done, it was through no connivance with the father, but upon her own initiative. Yet she was fully capable of the effort; convinced the cause of the South was in her hands, she was one to go through fire and water in service. Neither her life nor mine would weigh in the decision--her only thought the Confederacy. Still it was not a pleasant reflection that she would thus war openly against me; would deliberately expose me to defeat, even death. Could she have made such a choice if she truly loved me? Her words, eyes, actions continually deceived me. Again and again I had supposed I knew her, believed I had solved her nature, only to be led into deeper bewilderment.

"Major," I said soberly. "I do imagine just that. There is no sacrifice your daughter would not make for the South. She realized the importance of this information, and that she alone could take it to Chambers."

I turned to the back stairs, and went down, feeling my way in the gloom, until I touched the door. To my surprise it opened, although I knew I had locked it, and the key was still in my pocket. There were four troopers in the kitchen, and they turned at the noise to stare at me.

"How long have you boys been stationed here?" I questioned.

"'Bout fifteen minutes, I guess," answered the nearest. "Ain't that about it, Joe?"

"Not no longer."

"Room empty when you came?"

"Not a rat here, that we saw; did we, Joe?"

The other shook his head.

"Was that bar across the outer door there then?"

"No, sir, there wan't no lock on it, an' Bill rigged up that contrivance hisself."

I believed now I comprehended how it had occurred, all except the mysterious unlocking of the door at the foot of the stairs, and this fellow in our uniform that haunted the ell. To make certain I retained the key, I took it out, and fitted it into the lock. Still there might be a duplicate, and as for the soldier, I was hardly half convinced of his reality. Billie had acted quickly, under the inspiration of discovery, and all the circ.u.mstances had conspired to make her escape from the house easy. Miles had withdrawn his men on my orders, and we were all grouped together in the front hall. She had simply slipped down these back stairs, used a duplicate key, pa.s.sed through the kitchen un.o.bserved, and out into the garden. Where then? To the stable, without doubt, and, mounted, into Chambers' lines, taking her news to the highest officer she could reach. We would hear from it presently,--strange if not even already some of those troops were wheeling to invest the house. I called back up the stairs,

"Conroy, send Major Hardy down here."

The Confederate appeared almost instantly, his eyes anxiously surveying the room.

"Have you found my girl?"

"No, but I have satisfied myself as to where she is. Without doubt she came down those stairs, and out this door, while we were in the front hall. A battle-line is a rough place for a woman, and I am going to turn you out now to see if you cannot find and protect her. One of you men take down that bar."

The major stared at me, and then extended his hand.

"You--you don't suppose I sent her?"

"Oh, no, you have been most honorable. There is no reason why I should hold you here; the others have gone, and you may be of a.s.sistance to Miss Willifred. It is bound to be lively enough for us in here presently without prisoners to look after."

"But you have not accepted my hand, Lieutenant Galesworth. I wish to feel that we part friends."

"We certainly do," I returned heartily, grasping his fingers. "And--and I may never see your daughter again. There is scarcely a possibility that I ever shall. Tell her that I respect her loyalty to the South."

He stood looking directly into my eyes, grasping both my hands.

"You mean to remain here, defending the house?"

"While there is a man left alive."

"It is a pity--in my judgment; not war, but a useless sacrifice."

"Yet a soldier's duty, Major--obedience to orders."

He bowed, choking in the throat, as he lifted his hat. With one glance at the silent soldier holding open the door he pa.s.sed out. Then he turned, hat still in hand, and glanced back.

"You may feel a.s.sured I will deliver your message, sir,--good-bye."

The broad hallway ran from the front of the house to the kitchen ell, and I could see its entire length. Several men were cl.u.s.tered at the other end, peering out through the narrow panes of gla.s.s either side the front door, and one came running toward me. It was the Irish sergeant.

"They're a-coomin', sorr--a bunch o' gray-backs. Shud Oi hay' the byes let drive?"

"Not until I speak to them, Mahoney. We'll give the fellows fair warning first."