Alone in the little room, he straightened, mechanically, the objects upon the table, paced for a time or two the narrow, cell-like place, then went out again upon the porch and stood with his hands on the railing, and his eyes raised to the white moon, full and serene in the cloudless night. "For without," he said, "are dogs and sorcerers and murderers and whosoever loveth and maketh a lie." He stood for a long while without movement, but at last let fall his hands, turned, and went indoors. When, a little later, he threw himself upon his bed and drew his hand across his eyes, he found that it was wet with tears. He spoke aloud, though hardly above his breath. "No, Ludwell, no! In this sole thing I am right. It is not revenge. I am not vindictive, I am not revengeful. This is justice, and I can no other than pursue it. It will not grieve you where you are." He turned and buried his face in the pillow. "O brother--O friend--" The emotion passed and he lay staring at the ceiling, reconstructing midday of September the seventh beside Indian Run. CHAPTER XXXIX UNITY AND JACQUELINE The library at Fontenoy lay west and north. In the afternoon the sun struck through the windows and through the glass door, brightening the tall clock-face, the faint gilt and brown of old books, and the portrait of Henry Churchill with the swords crossed beneath. Upon the forenoon in question, and even though the month was May, the room looked a sombre place, chill and dusk, shaded and grave as a hermit's cell. In the great chair upon the hearth sat Colonel Churchill, somewhat bowed together and with his hand over his eyes. By the window stood Major Edward, very upright, very meagre, soldierly, and grey. The northern light was upon him; with his pinned-up sleeve and lifted head he looked a figure of old defeats and indomitable mind. From the middle of the room Fairfax Cary faced both the Churchills. In his dark riding-dress, standing with his gloved hand upon the table, he gave in look and attitude a suggestion of formality, a subtle conveyance of determination. He had been speaking, and now, after an interruption from one of the brothers, he continued. "That was two weeks ago. I have it clear, and I have my witness. The murderer, leaving the body of my brother beside Indian Run, turned his horse, and, at a point just east of the rock where grows the mountain ash, he quitted the road for the mountain-side. It is desperate riding over that ridge, but he made it as, two weeks ago, I made it, and he came out, as I came out, upon the high bank above the main road, a few yards below the blasted oak. That, Colonel Churchill, is what he did, and what a jury shall see that he did." Colonel Dick let fall his hand. "Fair, Fair, I never gainsaid that he was a villain--"