"Not at all; you had disappeared; we could discover no trace of you anywhere. Your father reported that you had overheard all that occurred in the hall below--the arrival of reinforcements, my orders to defend the house, the Federal plan of attack. Major Hardy told you his parole prevented him from reporting this discovery, yet no pledge of honor bound you. What else could I think, but that you had escaped into the Confederate lines with the news?" She stared into my face, breathing heavily, yet without speaking. Then she released the clasp of my hand, and leaned back against the wall, shading her eyes. "Do not misunderstand me, Billie," I urged anxiously. "I could never have blamed you. I sent that word to you through your father. You are a daughter of the South, and I honored your loyalty. There was no reason why you should not sacrifice me for the sake of the cause." "Are you sorry I did not?" "No, far from it, and--and, Billie, it is not the first time; does it mean--" "It means nothing," she broke in, "except a strange combination of circumstances. I did think of all this; it came to me in a flash. I realized that it was undoubtedly my duty, and--and, perhaps I should have found courage to attempt the task. I went to my room tempted, my purpose swayed by the call of the South, and--and my friendship for you. I had to be disloyal somewhere, and--and it was so hard to choose. I am glad you do not blame me, but I believe I should have gone, just as you thought I did, except for what happened." A shell exploded near the corner of the house, shaking the whole structure, the fragments tearing into the wood. She caught me by the arm, and I held her tightly, with face buried on my shoulder. "We must be quick," I urged. "Those are Federal shells overshooting their mark, but one may strike the house at any moment. Tell me what it was that happened." "It seems so unreal now," she faltered, her whole form trembling, "that I hardly know how to tell it--yet every word is true. I--I have captured the murderer of Captain Le Gaire." "You have! Who was he?" "I cannot tell; I--I haven't even seen the man's face, but--but he is one of your soldiers." "Impossible! There is not one of our men unaccounted for. I could call every trooper of our first company here now to confront you, except two who have been killed. The fellow does not belong to us." "Well, he wears your uniform," and she drew back indignantly, "even to having the buttons removed. You must believe me, for I can prove it; I can take you to where he is." "Where?" "Down cellar, in the place where you had the Confederate prisoners confined. He--he is locked in there; I held the door against him, and dropped the bar." I looked at her in speechless wonder, a wonder not untinged by admiration and love. She was standing now, erect, facing me, her cheeks reddening under my direct gaze.