"I don't know who did it. But I should like to discover where that lad hides, and what he is here for. We have accounted for all our men, and searched this floor inch by inch. I began to think Miss Hardy was mistaken, but now you've seen him also." "An' Murphy," broke in the horrified corporal, edging closer. "Murphy saw him too. Bedad, maybe it was a ghost!" "Ghosts don't talk, and I never heard of any wearing revolvers. Major, when did you see Billie last?" I noticed how haggard his face was, and he answered slowly, his hands grasping the stair-rail. "We were together in the front hall when your men came. You were talking loudly, and the new voices attracted our attention. We both went forward to the head of the stairs." "You overheard what was said?" I interrupted, a new possibility dawning upon me. "Much of it, yes," he admitted. "The plan of attack?--the orders sent me?" His expression answered. "And what were you going to do with this information, Major Hardy?" "Nothing. I considered myself a prisoner on parole. I merely proposed asking your permission to leave the house with my daughter before hostilities began. I started down the stairs for that purpose." "And Billie?" "I told her this, and sent her to her room after some things. Before I got down you had disappeared, and I returned up stairs. She was not in her room, nor could I find a trace of her." I thought rapidly, staring into his bewildered face, insensibly listening to the continuous roar without. It was tragedy within tragedy, the threads of war and love inextricably tangled. What had occurred here during that minute or two? Had she left voluntarily, inspired by some wild hope of service to the South? Did that mysterious figure, attired in our uniform, have anything to do with her disappearance? Did Hardy know, or suspect more than he had already told? By what means could she have left the house? If she had not left where could she remain concealed? Each query only served to make the situation more complicated, more difficult to solve. To no one of them could I find an answer. "Major, did you tell your daughter why you could not carry that information to your own people?--that you considered yourself a parolled prisoner?" He hesitated, realizing now what it was I was seeking to discover. "Why, I may have said something like that. We spoke of the situation, and--and Billie appeared excited, but,--why, Galesworth, you do not imagine the girl would try to carry the news out, alone, do you?"