He would ask for a court-martial. That, of course. Through no other tribunal could a just and a satisfactory decision be reached, and it was paramount that another verdict besides that pronounced by public opinion be obtained. Unquestionably, he would be acquitted. His past service, his influence, his character would prove themselves determining factors during his trial. Fully one-half of the charges were ridiculous and would be thrown out of court as incontestable, and of the remainder only one would find him technically culpable. Still it were better for a court to decide upon these matters, and to that end he decided to request a general court-martial. III "You have removed your uniform?" Peggy asked in surprise as she beheld him entering the doorway of the drawing-room. "Yes," was the solemn reply. "I am no longer a confederate of France." He limped slowly across the room, leaning on his cane. He had laid aside his buff and blue uniform, with the epaulets and sword knots, and was clad in a suit of silken black. His hose and shoes were of the same color, against which his blouse, cuffs and periwig were emphasized, a pale white. "But you are still a Major-General," she corrected. "I was; but am no longer. I have resigned." She started at the announcement. Obviously she had not anticipated this move. "You have resigned? When?" "I wrote the letter a short time ago. I precluded their designs." He sat in his great chair, and, reaching for his stool, placed his foot upon it. "But ... I ... I don't understand." "I do perfectly. I shall be tried by court-martial, of course; they have moved already to suspend me pending the course of my trial. I want to anticipate any such possibility, that is all." "But you will be reinstated?" "I don't know,--nor care," he added. "And what about us, our home, our life here," she asked with a marked concern. "Oh! That will go on. This is your house, remember, if it comes to the worst; you are mistress here. This is your home." "If it comes to the worst? To what?" "Well, if I should be found guilty ... and ... sentenced." "I should not stay here a minute," she cried, stamping her foot. "Not one minute after the trial! In this town? With that element? Not for an hour!" "Well!" he exclaimed, making a gesture with both hands, together with a slight shrug of the shoulders. "Where is Anderson?" she asked quickly. "In New York, I presume, ere this. I have not seen him." "Fled?" "The only proper thing. It's a great wonder to me that he escaped at all. I should have expected him torn to pieces by that mob." "A bungled piece of business. I imagined that he was assured of success. A sorry spectacle to allow them to slip from his grasp so easily." "Margaret, you do not understand a mob. They are as fickle as a weather-cock. The least attraction sways them." "Who did it? Have you yet learned?"