“Ah, yes, of course. I can’t pass you. Take seats, please. The marshal will be in directly.” Our evidence was too smooth. It was plain the deputy didn’t believe in us, and we felt uneasy and miserable to the soles of our boots--except Captain Locke, who looked thoroughly at his ease. It was an hour or longer before the marshal came in. It seemed a great deal more, yet I can’t say that I longed to see him. “What’s all this?” he asked his deputy as he took in our party, braced up against the wall. “A party who crossed from Virginia this morning. They have been visiting in Fauquier--_they say_--and want to get back to Baltimore. A lame tale, I call it. I would send them straight back if I had my way with them.” The provost’s eyes had rested first on me, as I happened to be more conspicuously placed than the others. I have been accredited with a most ingenuous countenance. I returned his gaze with a regard utterly “childlike and bland,” looking up into his face with eyes as frank and trusting as a baby’s. Past me his gaze went to Milicent--I have said before that Milicent had the face of a Madonna; then the manly and straightforward eyes of Locke held him; and last Mr. Holliway’s reserved and gentlemanly countenance met his scrutiny with a quiet dignity that disarmed suspicion. He began by interviewing Milicent and me. When he questioned me I said plaintively: “I have been here an hour, sir, and I am very tired. I would be so much obliged if you would send us on home. I am almost sick with the journey I have taken, and I should so like to get home to-night.” “That is impossible,” he said; “but,” he continued kindly, “I do not think you will be detained later than to-morrow morning.” He conversed in a low tone with his deputy, and then I heard him say: “Let them spend the night at the old German’s on the hill, and to-morrow we will see about it.” Then turning to us, he said that an orderly would conduct us to a place where we would be lodged for the night. When an officer asked about our baggage, I extended my keys quickly, saying: “We have two small trunks.” He took the keys with an apology. As I was passing out of the door I turned back and held out my satchel. “I forgot that you have to examine this.” “It is not necessary, miss,” he said, smiling. The old Dutchman was out, but his wife received us and made us comfortable. While we were at supper he came in. “I speeks mit you after supper,” he said solemnly, and sat in silence until we had finished. Then he took us into a room, closed and locked the door, came close to us, and whispered: “I knows dat you haf run te plockate. You bees in ver’ mooch tancher. Town te stdreet I hears you vas at mine house, unt I hears ver’ mooch talk, unt I lis’en. I vill help you if you vill let me.” He now addressed himself particularly to Captain Locke and Mr. Holliway: