As by magic those hateful faces vanished, disappearing by means of every opening leading out from the hall, and when the cheering blue-coats surged in through the broken door, I was yet standing there, apparently alone but for the dead, leaning weak and breathless against the wall, my arm about Edith Brennan. CHAPTER XXXIII A BELLIGERENT GERMAN A young officer, whose red face was rendered extremely conspicuous by the blue of his uniform, led the rush of his soldiers as they came tumbling gallantly into the hall. “Up there, men!” he cried, catching instant sight of me, and pointing. “Get that Johnny with the girl.” As they sprang eagerly forward over the dead bodies littering the floor at the foot of the stairs, Brennan scrambled unsteadily to his feet, and halted them with imperious gesture. “Leave him alone!” he commanded. “That is the commander of the Confederate detachment who came to our aid. The guerillas have fled down the hallway, and are most of them outside by now. Wayne,” he turned and glanced up at us, his face instantly darkening at the tableau, “kindly assist the ladies to descend; we must get them out of this shambles.” He lifted them one by one and with ceremonious politeness across the ghastly pile of dead and wounded men. “Escort them to the library,” he suggested, as I hesitated. “That room will probably be found clear.” I was somewhat surprised that Brennan should not have come personally to the aid of his wife, but as he ignored her presence utterly, I at once offered her my arm, and silently led the way to the room designated, the others following as best they might. The apartment was unoccupied, exhibiting no signs of the late struggle, and I found comfortable resting places for all. Miss Minor was yet sobbing softly, her face hidden upon her mother's shoulder, and I felt constrained to speak with her. “I shall go at once” I said kindly, “to ascertain all I can regarding Lieutenant Caton, and will bring you word.” She thanked me with a glance of her dark eyes clouded with tears, but as I turned hastily away to execute this errand, Mrs. Brennan laid restraining hand upon my arm. “Captain Wayne,” she said with much seriousness, “you are very unselfish, but you must not go until your own wounds have been attended to; they may be far more serious than you apprehend.” “My wounds?” I almost laughed at the gravity of her face, for although exhausted, I was unconscious of any injury. “They must be trivial indeed, for I was not even aware I had any.” “But you have!” she insisted, her eyes full upon me. “Your hair is fairly clotted with blood, while your shoulder is torn and bruised until it is horrible to look upon.”