“A spy! A spy!” he yelled at the top of his voice, and made a grab at Calhoun. Calhoun struck him a tremendous blow which sent him rolling in the gutter, and fled at the top of his speed. But a score of voices took up the cry, and a howling mob, mostly of soldiers, were at his heels. He hoped to reach the river, where among the immense piles of stores heaped along the levee, or among the shipping, he might secrete himself, but a patrol guard suddenly appeared a block away, and his retreat was cut off. He gave himself up for lost, and reached for a small pistol which he carried, with the intention of putting a bullet through his own heart; “for,” thought he, “they shall never have the pleasure of hanging me before a gaping crowd.” Just then he saw two young ladies standing in the open door of a house. What told him safety lay there he never knew, but hope sprang up within his breast. Dashing up the steps, he thrust the ladies back into the house, slammed the door to, and locked it. So rude was his entrance, one of the ladies fell to the floor. “Save me! Save me!” he cried, “I am a Confederate spy,” and he gave the sign of the secret order. The young lady who had not fallen was terribly frightened, but she grasped the situation in a moment. “Upstairs,” she gasped, pointing the way; “tell mother, the secret place.” Calhoun lost no time in obeying her. The girl flew to the back door and opened it, then back just as her sister was rising, her face covered with blood, for she had hit her nose in falling. “Quick, Annette, in the parlor,” said her sister; “assent to everything I say.” Annette staggered into the parlor hardly knowing what she did, for she was dazed and terribly frightened. The sister, whose name was Inez, was now at the door, which was giving way before the blows of Calhoun’s pursuers. All this happened in less than a minute. “Stop!” she cried, “I will unlock the door,” and she did so, and when the soldiers rushed in, crying, “Where is he? Where is the spy?” she stood wringing her hands and sobbing, “My sister! Oh, my sister! he has murdered her.” The words brought the soldiers to a halt. “Who murdered your sister?” asked a sergeant who seemed to be the leader. “The man! the man who ran in here!” “Where is he? He is the fellow we want.” “He rushed out of the back door. Oh! my sister, my sister!” “After him, boys; don’t let him get away!” yelled the sergeant, and they rushed through the house in hot pursuit. The house was rapidly filling, when a captain appeared, and learning of the sobbing Inez what the trouble was, said: “Murdered your sister! Horrible! where is she?” “Here,” said Inez, leading the way into the parlor. Annette was reclining on a sofa, her face bloody; she was apparently in a fainting condition.