“You do not understand these things,” April replied. “We have no other way of finding prisoners. But Cousin Imogene said it was one of the negroes.” “The man I saw was a white man,” Dorothea answered. “Then he was the one who escaped from Andersonville,” April said, her voice rising a little. “You have helped a Yankee to escape! That is not the action or one who is in sympathy with the South.” Again her eyes sought the red velvet band about Dorothea’s wrist. “It may have been a Yankee,” Dorothea confessed, calmly. “I certainly thought so.” “And you were deliberately silent?” April spoke angrily. “You let one of our enemies get away when you might have helped to catch him? I tell you, Dorothea, we can’t stand that. I shall tell Hal; it may not be too late to get word to the men who are searching.” She rose to her feet. “You are not fair, April,” the other protested, rising also. “What were _you_ doing on the porch? You said nothing of seeing any one any more than I did, and you must have—” April’s eyes widened in surprise for an instant and then, going close to her cousin, she whispered: “What was the man like, Dorothea?” “I only saw his face for a moment but it was very pale and haggard,” Dorothea answered. “His hair was dark and there was a long lock that came down over his forehead. I think, too, that there was a small mole on his cheek, but that might have been a spot of mud. I can’t tell you—” She stopped abruptly, seeing a great change in her cousin’s face. April had lost her look of anger and in its place there was an expression of profound sorrow, and her beautiful eyes filled with tears. “I was mistaken, Dorothea,” she faltered, half choking with some hidden emotion. “Forgive me.” She turned away and hurried out of the room, while Dorothea stood for a moment, gazing at the shut door and wondering what would happen next to deepen the mystery. CHAPTER IX THE NEXT MORNING Dorothea awoke next morning to find Harriot creeping into her bed. “Good morning,” she murmured, opening one sleepy eye. “I hoped I wouldn’t wake you,” said Harriot briskly, “but, now that you are awake, we might just as well talk. I wanted to get you first to-day before the others. You’re going to be mighty popular, I can see that, and you’re my cousin just as much as you are April’s.” She was under the covers by this time and snuggled down with a series of comfortable wiggles. The mention of April brought back to Dorothea’s mind the last glimpse she had had of her beautiful cousin the night before, and the events leading up to it. “I wonder if they caught that poor man,” she said, all sleep gone from her eyes by this time. “Oh, I don’t know. I hope not, though you mustn’t say so to April,” Harriot answered. “She’s so patriotic and loyal that it hurts her. I hope I’ll never have any love affairs.” “What do you mean by that?” demanded Dorothea.