Part 50 (1/2)

She laughed at the grotesque picture he suggested, but asked what he meant by the uniform, and laughed still more when he told her he was going to borrow one for the occasion from Kenneth, as Evilena had announced her scorn for all ununiformed men, and he did not mean to risk failure in a dress suit. Later he had an idea of applying for a uniform of his own as surgeon in the army.

”If you could introduce _that_ into your serenade I have no fear my little girl would refuse you,” said Mrs. McVeigh, encouragingly, ”at least not more than two or three times.”

On leaving Mrs. McVeigh he stumbled against Masterson, who was in the shadow just outside the window within which Monroe was in interested converse with Matthew Loring and some other residents of the county.

He had been deliberately, and, in his own opinion, justifiably, a listener to every sentence advanced by the suspected Northerner, whom he felt was imposing on the hospitality of the South only to betray it.

Earnest as his convictions were he had not yet been able to discern the slightest trace of double intent in any of Monroe's remarks, which were, for the most part, of agricultural affairs, foreign affairs, even the possible future of the Seminoles in the Florida swamp; of everything, in fact, but the very vital question of the day surrounding them, which only tended to confirm his idea that the man was remarkably clever, and he despaired of securing sufficient evidence against him in the brief time at his disposal.

He had just arrived at that conclusion when Delaven, high-hearted with hope, saw only the stars over his head as he paced the veranda, and turning the corner stumbled on Masterson.

There was an exclamation, some words of apology, and involuntarily Masterson stepped backward into the stream of light from the open window, and Monroe, looking around, read the whole situation at a glance. Masterson still suspected him, and was listening! Monroe frankly laughed and made a little sound, the mere whisper of a whistle, as he met Masterson's baffled look with one of cool mockery; it was nonchalant to the verge of insolence, and enraged the Southerner, strong in his convictions of right, as a blow could not have done. For a blow a man could strike back, but this mockery!

Delaven walked on, unconscious of the suppressed feeling between the two. Masterson was handicapped by the fact that he dared not again mention his suspicions to the McVeigh family, and he strode down the steps to the lawn, furious at the restraint put upon him, and conscious, now, that surveillance was useless, since the Northerner had been put upon his guard.

His impatience filled him with rage. He was honest, and he was a fighter, but of what use was that since he had blundered? He had dealt clumsy strokes with both hands, but the other had parried each thrust with a foil. He was worsted--the game was up, but he at least meant to let the interloper know that however clever he might be, there were some people, at least, whom he could not deceive.

That was the humor he was in when he saw Monroe excuse himself to Loring, step through the window, and light a cigar, preparatory to a stroll towards the tryst with Pluto.

Masterson watched him sauntering carelessly down the steps. He had removed the cigar and was whistling very softly, unconsciously, as one who is deep in some quandary, but to Masterson it seemed the acme of studious carelessness to ignore his own presence; it seemed insolent as the mocking glance through the window, and it decided him. His shoulders unconsciously squared as he stepped forward.

”Captain Monroe, I want a word with you,” and his tone was a challenge in itself. Monroe turned his head, slowly, finished the bar he was whistling in a slightly louder tone--loud enough to distinguish that it was ”Rally 'Round the Flag,” whistled very badly. Monroe had evidently little music in his soul, however much patriotism he had in his heart.

”Only one, I hope,” he said, carelessly, with an irritating smile.

”You may have to listen to several before you get away from here!”

”From--you?” and there was perceptible doubt in the tone; it added to Masterson's conviction of his own impotence. He dared not fight the man unless Monroe gave the challenge, though it was the one thing he wanted to do with all his heart.

”From those in authority over this section,” he said, sternly.

”Ah!--that is a different matter.”

”You may find it a very serious matter, Captain Monroe.”

”Oh, no; I shan't find it, I'm not looking for it,” and Monroe softly resumed, _”The Union Forever.”_

”If you take my advice,” began Masterson, angrily, ”you'll”--but Monroe shook his head.

”I shan't, so don't mention it,” he said, blandly. Masterson's wordy anger showed him that he was master of the situation, so he only smiled as he added, ”advice, you know, is something everybody gives and n.o.body takes,” and Monroe resumed his whistle.

”You think yourself cursedly clever,” and it was an effort for Masterson to keep from striking the cool, insolent face. ”You thought so today when Madame Caron was suspected instead of yourself.”

”Madame Caron!” Monroe ceased the whistle and looked at him with a momentary frown, which Masterson welcomed as a sign of anger.

”Ah, that touches you, does it?”

”Only with wonder that you dare speak of her after your failure to make her the victim of your spies today,” and Monroe's tone was again only contemptuous. ”First you arrest me, then accuse Madame Caron.

Evidently you are out of your sphere in detective work; it really requires considerable cleverness, you know. Yet, if it amuses you--well”--he made a little gesture of indifference and turned away, but Masterson stepped before him.

”You will learn there is enough cleverness here to comprehend why you came to this plantation a willing prisoner,” he said, threateningly.