Sheridan straightened in his chair, and looked across the table at me almost angrily. “Very well, sir,” he said gravely. “Your fate is in your own hands, and will depend very largely upon your replies to my questions. You claim to have been the bearer of despatches, and hence no spy, yet you possess nothing to substantiate your claim. As your regiment is with Lee, I presume you were seeking Longstreet. Were your despatches delivered?” “I have reason to believe so.” “By yourself?” “By the sergeant who accompanied me, and who continued the journey after I was detained.” “Is Lee contemplating an immediate movement?” “General Sheridan,” I exclaimed indignantly, “you must surely forget that I am an officer of the Confederate Army. You certainly have no reason to expect that I will so far disregard my obvious duty as to answer such a question.” “Your refusal to explain why you were hiding within our lines is ample reason for my insistence,” he said tartly, “and I am not accustomed to treating spies with any great consideration, even when they claim Rebel commissions. You are not the first to seek escape in that way. Was your despatch the cause of the hurried departure of Longstreet's troops eastward?” This last question was hurled directly at me, and I noticed that every eye in the room was eagerly scanning my face. I had the quick, fiery temper of a boy then, and my cheeks flushed. “I positively decline to answer one word relative to the despatches intrusted to me,” I said deliberately, and my voice shook with sudden rush of anger. “And no officer who did not dishonor the uniform he wore would insult me with the question.” A bombshell exploding in the room could not have astonished them as did my answer. I realized to the full the probable result, but my spirit was high, and I felt the utter uselessness of prolonging the interview. Sooner or later the same end must come. Sheridan's face, naturally flushed, instantly grew crimson, and a dangerous light flamed into his fierce eyes. For a moment he seemed unable to speak; then he thundered forth: “You young fool! I can tell you that you will speak before another twenty-four hours, or I'll hang you for a spy if it cost me my command. Major Brennan, take this young popinjay to the Mansion House under guard.” Brennan stepped forward, smiling as if he enjoyed the part assigned to him. “Come on, you Johnny,” he said coarsely, his hand closing heavily on my arm. Then, seeming unable to repress his pleasure at the ending of the interview, and his present sense of power, he bent lower, so that his insolent words should not reach the others, and hissed hotly: “Stealing women is probably more in your line than this.”