Thorne’s hand went to his revolver which hung at his belt. He had not time to draw it before the Corporal and the two men burst through the door. There were evidently others outside. Thorne’s hand fell away from his revolver, and his position was one of charming nonchalance. “Out here!” cried the Corporal to one of the soldiers. “Look out there!” pointing to the doorway through which the two men instantly disappeared. “What is it, Corporal?” asked Thorne composedly. The Corporal turned and saluted. “Prisoner, sir, broke out of Libby! We’ve run him down the street, and he turned in here somewhere. If he comes in that way, would you be good enough to let us know?” “Go on, Corporal,” said Thorne coolly. “I’ll look out for this window.” He stepped down the long room toward the far window, drew the curtains, and with his hand on his revolver, peered out into the trees beyond the front of the house. CHAPTER IX THE SHOT THAT KILLED A glance through the window showed Captain Thorne that the yard beyond, which had been empty all evening, was now full of armed men. The Corporal had gone out through the hall door back of the house whence he had entered. There was no doubt but that the back windows would be equally well guarded. The house was surrounded, no escape was possible. He was trapped, virtually a prisoner, although for the time being, they had left him a certain liberty—the liberty of that one large room! It was quite evident to him that he was the object of their suspicions, and he more than feared that his real affiliations had been at last discovered. Apparently, there would be no opportunity now in which he could carry out his part in the cunningly devised scheme of attack. “_Plan 3_” would inevitably result in failure, as so many previous plans had resulted, because he would not be able to send the orders that would weaken the position. The best he could hope for, in all probability, was the short shrift of a spy. He had staked his life on the game and it appeared that he had lost. Nay, more than life had been wagered, honour. He knew the contempt in which the spy was held; he knew that even the gallantry and intrepidity of André and Hale had not saved them from opprobrium and disgrace.