I heard my man's heavy step in the hall, as I gathered myself. I heard Mary's voice answer him in a sad and lifeless tone. "I hope it will soon be over--it seems terrible, terrible! Although the end may be good." I heard her door shut, and, Belknap coming again, I got my gun ready, put on a bashful expression, and waited. I do not lie when I say that Mr. Belknap was astonished to find me in his private room. That expression was one of the few honest ones it had been my privilege to see upon his face. "What are you doing here?" he asked, savage. "Why, I only came to speak to Mary--to tell her about Mr. Saxton," I stammered, shyly, knowing that Saxton's name would wake him up. "What about Saxton?" he asked, putting his wicked eye on me. "Why, I want to tell Mary--I don't like to say--" "What!" he said, dropping the sound of his voice still further and sending the meaning of it high. "What? You come into my room and won't answer my questions?" He took a quick cat-like step toward me. I saw I had a lively man to deal with, and, weak as I was, it stood me in hand to get ready. "There was a letter," I mumbled, reaching in my pocket for my gun. With my hand on that, I changed my mind. "I guess I oughtn't to let you have it, Mr. Belknap," I said. He got gray around the mouth. "Give me that letter!" says he, in his strained whispering. "Give it to me, or, so help me God, I'll kill you where you stand." I jumped back, terrified. "You wouldn't hurt me?" I gasped. "I shouldn't give you the letter, sir; it was intended for Mary--please don't hurt me! I've been sick!" He drew a knife. "If you do not instantly hand me that letter," he says, and he meant every word of it, "I shall put this in your heart." That was the justification I needed. It's queer, but I never saw a man who didn't have to have an excuse. Belknap had _his_, I reckon. We stood there, me quivering with fear, and his bad light eyes murderous on me, while slowly, slowly, I drew out ... my gun. "Now," whispers I, "you petrified hunk of hypocrisy, I've got you! Hand me that knife!" He couldn't understand. He just stared. "Hand me that knife!" says I, letting what I felt become apparent. He passed over the knife. With all his faults, he was too smart a man not to know the fix he was in. Yet I thought I'd clinch it. "Mr. Belknap," says I, "your goose is cooked. The government army is right outside, as your people could have seen, if they'd had the wit of a mud-turtle. I've come into your lines prepared to do anything necessary, as you can readily imagine. We're going to have a little play-acting now, and you're to guess your part. If you guess wrong--Well, heaven has missed you for some time, and she sha'n't be defrauded any longer." His eyes flickered with fury. He couldn't have said a word to save him. "Understand," I whispers, "a crooked move and--_adios_!"