“Surely they will not kill you.” “I shall be shot as a spy!” “Not if I can save you. What can I do? Oh, I have it; I will secrete you where they cannot find you. Follow me.” “It will imperil your own life. I can not do it.” “No--no! Come, quick! See! they are almost here,” and she caught him excitedly by the arm. Forgetting his wounds he followed her up the stairs. Reaching the hall she led the way into one of the adjoining apartments. “Where can you hide?” she said. “In that trunk. Will that do?” He shook his head. At the same time he glanced around the room. The walls were sheathed with boards. Some wearing apparel was hanging in one corner: otherwise they were bare. “If I could get off one of those boards.” She comprehended his meaning. “One of them is loose,” she replied. “Grandpa promised to nail it on this morning.” While speaking she began to remove one of the boards that helped to form the partition. “See! there is room for you to stand in and they will never think of looking there.” “But what----” “Don’t hesitate. I hear them in the yard. We have no time to lose. Go in there and leave the rest to me.” He could do no better. “Have good courage,” she said softly, “and I will answer for your safety.” Before he could reply she had replaced the board. She had barely time to hang the garments over the place, when a loud thumping was heard at the door. Overcoming her fears as much as possible, she hastily descended the stairs. Captain Dermot and his squad were at the door. “Hilloa there!” cried the Confederate leader. “I should think you were all dead or run away.” “What means this unceremonious summons, Captain Dermot?” “We are after a cursed Yankee spy. Have you seen him pass this way, Miss Morland?” “No, sir.” “He rode a dark horse and----” “But when I saw him he was afoot, captain,” interrupted one of his followers. “His horse must have played out.” “You are sure he was coming this way?” “As certain as I am that I am looking at you.” “Then he can’t be far off. Are you sure you have not seen him, Miss Morland?” “I might have seen him and not have known him,” she replied evasively. “Come to think of it a young man did pass near the house this morning. He was quite tall, and wore a citizen’s suit with a black, slouched hat. That much I noticed.” “He is our man!” cried Captain Dermot, excitedly. “Come on, boys. We shall soon overtake him.” “Hold on, captain!” exclaimed the flaxen-haired soldier who had ridden nearer to the house than any of the others, “here is something that tells a story if I’m not mistaken.” As he spoke he raised on the point of his gun where it had lain by the door a fine silk handkerchief. Mara uttered a low exclamation of dismay. Quickly holding the handkerchief up to the gaze of the others they read the letters “C. R.” embroidered in one corner. “They mean Curtis Remington--Cavalry Curt,” said the soldier with a smile of triumph. “He must have dropped it there.”