Part 52 (2/2)

”Your commission and instructions, Colonel!” he said, jubilantly.

”What a run of luck. See if they are all right.”

”Every one of them,” and in a moment the Judge and Masterson were shaking hands with him, while Delaven stood apart and stared. He was glad they were having so much joy to themselves, but could not see why he should be choked to obtain it for them.

”Understand one thing,” said Masterson, when the congratulations were over; ”those papers were thrown from that balcony to Dr. Delaven by mistake. The man they were meant for tried to strangle the doctor and has escaped, but the man who escaped, Colonel, was evidently only a messenger, and the real culprit, the traitor, is in your house now, and reached the balcony through that corridor door!”

The wind blew Margeret's lamp out, leaving them, for an instant, in darkness, but she entered the hall, turned up the light there so that it shone across the veranda and down the steps; then she lit the lamp in the library and went softly up the stairs and out of sight.

”Come into the library,” suggested McVeigh. ”You are right, Phil, there is only one thing to be done in the face of such evidence By Jove! It seems incredible. I would have fought for Jack Monroe, sworn by him, and after all--”

A leisurely step sounded on the stairs and Monroe descended. He wore no coat or vest and was evidently prepared for bed when disturbed.

”What's all the row about?” he asked, yawning. ”Oh, are you in it, Colonel?”

There was a slight pause before McVeigh said:

”Captain Monroe, the row is over for the present, since your confederate has escaped.”

”My--confederate?”

He glanced in inquiry from one to the other, but could see no friendliness in their faces. Delaven looked as puzzled as himself, but the other three regarded him coldly. He tossed his half finished cigar out of the door, and seemed to grow taller, as he turned toward them again.

”May I ask in what way I am linked with a confederacy.”

”In using your parole to gain knowledge of our army for the use of the Federal government,” answered McVeigh, bluntly.

Monroe made a step forward, but halted, drew a long breath, and thrust his uninjured hand into his pocket, as if to hamper its aggressive tendencies.

”Is it considered a part of Southern hospitality that the host reserves the right to insult his guests?” he asked slowly. Masterson's face flushed with anger at the sweeping suggestion, but McVeigh glanced at him warningly.

”This is not a time for useless words, Captain Monroe, and it seems useless to discuss the rights of the hospitality you have outraged.”

”That is not true, Colonel McVeigh,” and his tones were very steady as he made the denial. His very steadiness and cool selfcontrol angered McVeigh, who had hoped to see him astonished, indignant, natural.

”Not true?” he demanded. ”Is it not true that you were received here as a friend, welcomed as a brother? That you listened this morning when those military dispatches reached me? That you heard me say they were very important? That as soon as they were stolen from my room tonight you announced that you could not prolong your stay, your object in coming having evidently been accomplished? Is it not true that today you managed to divert suspicion from yourself to an innocent lady? The authorities were evidently right who had that sailor followed here; but unknown to her it was not his employer he came here to meet, but _you_, his confederate! He was only the messenger, while you were the real spy--the officer who has broken his parole of honor.”

Monroe had listened with set teeth to the accusation, a certain doggedness in his expression as the list of his delinquencies were reviewed, but at the final sentence the clenched hand shot forward and he struck McVeigh a wicked blow, staggering him back against the wall.

”You are a liar and a fool, Colonel McVeigh,” he said in a choked voice, his face white with anger.

The Judge and Masterson interposed as McVeigh lunged forward at him, and then he controlled his voice enough to say, ”Captain Monroe, you are under arrest.”

And the commotion and deep breathing of the men prevented them hearing the soft rustle of a woman's dress in the hall as Judithe slipped away into the darkness of the sitting room, and thence up the back stairs.

She had followed Monroe as he pa.s.sed her door. She heard all their words, and the final ones: ”_Captain Monroe, you are under arrest!_”

rang in her ears all night as she tossed sleepless in the darkness.

That is what Kenneth McVeigh would say to her if he knew the truth.

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