She remained exactly as I had left her, leaning against the wall in the slight recess left by the stairs, and she recognized the sergeant with an inclination of the head, although her eyes were upon me.
"Your friends outside seem inclined to allow us a few moments in which to investigate this matter," I said. "But we shall need to hurry. This is Miles, and I want you to tell the entire story from the beginning."
My tone was incisive, and she responded as though to an order.
"I will be brief," she began. "My father and I were at the head of the stairs when your reinforcements came. We were merely waiting there to make sure you had left the house. Yet we could not fail to overhear what was said, and to at once realize the importance of the information. I spoke of it to Major Hardy, but he felt himself still under parole, bound by his word of honor. I was under no such obligation, however, and, for the moment it seemed as though my whole duty demanded that I should escape immediately, and bear this news to the nearest Confederate commander. Nothing else, no other obligation appeared as important as this. It was not that I wished to harm you, or to betray you to possible death or imprisonment, but it seemed to me all that was personal should be forgotten in duty to the cause of the South. It--it did hurt me, Lieutenant Galesworth," her voice suddenly changing into a plea, "but I believed it to be right, to be what I should do."
"I understand fully; we both respect your convictions."
Miles nodded gravely, but said nothing, and the girl hurried on, yet with evident relief.
"I started back to my room with that intention--your men were all at the front of the house; it would be easy to slip down the back stairs, leave by the kitchen door, and run for the stable. I knew father would oppose my plan, and so I said nothing to him about it. Indeed it all came to me in a flash, and, almost before I knew it I was back in my own room ready to act. I passed out the side door into the next room, which would bring me nearer the back stairs, believing I would thus be less exposed to Major Hardy's observation. I glanced out first, and saw him beside the front window at the opposite end of the hall. He was intent upon the battle, the noise of which was deafening. The firing was so continuous and so near at hand--the very house shaking--that I almost lost my nerve. Then I turned my head and looked the other way, and there, back in the shadows of the ell hallway, in almost exactly the same spot where I had seen him before, stood one of your soldiers. He had his revolver out in his hand, and was crouching forward in such a way that his hat brim almost totally concealed his face, but I knew instinctively that he was the same man I saw last night. And--and he was watching father."
Her voice broke, and she pressed her hands to her eyes, as though to blot out the memory, yet her hesitancy was but for an instant.
"I didn't know what to do. If I cried out, or made any alarm, I was afraid he would fire. My father was standing unconsciously, his back toward him, unarmed. I cannot tell you how frightened I was, for, somehow, the man did not seem real; I--I felt as I have sometimes in dreams. But I had to do something, something desperate. There was an old gun standing back of the door--just a relic, and unloaded. Yet it occurred to me it might answer, might serve to frighten the fellow. I slipped back, grasped it, and returned, but--when I looked out again he was gone."
She took a deep breath, and I heard Miles clinch and unclinch his hands.
"Maybe it was just a ghost, Miss, or a shadow," he interrupted hoarsely, "for I swear to God there wasn't none of our men up there--you know that, Lieutenant."
"We called the roll in the front hall not ten minutes before, anyhow," I replied, still looking at Billie, "and I hardly see how any of them got away after that."
"I--I almost believed the same thing," she confessed, speaking swiftly. "As I said, it did not seem exactly real from the first, yet I had to trust my own eyes, and I saw him almost as plainly as I see you two now. Then he was gone; gone so quickly I could not conceive the possibility of it. The whole affair appeared imaginary, a matter of nerves. It was an hallucination; out of my own brain, it seemed, I had conjured up that crouching figure. I had overheard your roll-call, and realized no trooper could have been there. I even convinced myself that it was all a fantasy. I was so certain of it that I stole out into the hall, and peered down the back stairs. I was frightened, so frightened I shook from head to foot, but it was because my nerves were all unstrung. I was sure by this time there had been no one there, and forced myself to investigate. I saw nothing, heard nothing, and step by step advanced clear to the back window, and looked out. Then, without the slightest warning, something was thrown over my head, and I was utterly helpless in the vice-like clutch of an arm. I cannot explain how startled, how helpless I was. It occurred so suddenly I could not even cry out, could scarcely struggle. I was instantly stifled, and left weak as a child. I know I did make an effort to break away, but the cloth was clutched closer about my face, and the assailant's grip hurled me to the floor. The horror was more intense because he never uttered a sound; because I was in the dark, my mind still dazed by conjecture, and--and I fainted."
The dramatic intensity with which she told this held us speechless. Her hands were to her face, and I took them away, holding them tightly.
"Go on, Billie," I urged gently. "It was a man then, after all."
"Yes, it was certainly a man, yet I did not really know it until he had carried me, unconscious, down the back stairs into the kitchen. I came to myself then, but remained dazed, and only partially comprehended what occurred. I could see nothing, as he had knotted the cloth about my head so tightly I could hardly breathe. But I could judge something from sounds, and I knew he was a man, because he swore once. I think he intended to leave me lying there, and himself escape through the back door. I know he lifted the bar and looked out. It was then he shut the door again quickly, and became profane. Something he saw outside compelled a change of plan, for he came back quickly, dragged the table to one side, and opened the trap leading down into the cellar. Whoever he was he evidently knew all about the house. Then, he caught me up again, took me down the steps in his arms, and dropped me at the foot, while he ran back and shut the trap. I was nearly smothered by this time, scarcely half conscious, and the man must have realized my condition, for, when he came back, he loosened the wrap about my face. This enabled me to breathe again freely, but I was so weak I could not get up, and he was obliged to drag me across the cellar floor. I struggled still to escape, and succeeded in getting the cloth lifted so I could see out a little with one eye, but the light was poor, and the man kept hidden behind where I couldn't get even a glimpse of his face."
One of the men passed us going back into the kitchen, and she paused a moment until he had gone by, Miles and I waiting impatiently.
"He didn't seem to know what to do with me. I don't think he intended any injury, and only seemed anxious to escape himself. I tried to talk, but he would not answer a word. After the first attempt I was not so much afraid of him, although he was rough enough when I tried to get away. You know how the cellar is divided off into compartments. Well, he discovered the one with the door, where you put your prisoners, and dragged me in there. I knew he meant to close the door and leave me, but he thought me so weak and helpless that, after we were once inside, he walked across to test the iron bars at the windows. I don't know how I did it; I couldn't have stood alone a moment before, but, all at once, it seemed as if I must, and I made the effort. I think I crawled out, for I can scarcely remember now even how it was done, but I slammed the door shut, and dropped the bar across. I heard him pounding and swearing inside, but was certain he couldn't get out. I didn't faint, but I lay down there quite a while, so completely exhausted I could scarcely lift my hand. I could hear him digging at the wood of the door with a knife, and the awful firing outside and up stairs. I knew the house was being attacked, and then when it became quiet again, I was equally sure you had driven the Confederates back. By that time I was able to get to my feet once more, and felt my way forward to the front stairs, for I knew I could never lift the trap. In the hall I met the soldier, and he made me hide here behind the stairs because the fight had begun again."
"And you never saw the man's face, Miss?" questioned the sergeant.
"No; he seemed to try and keep out of sight, and, in the cellar, it was too dark for me to distinguish features a few feet away. He acted as though afraid I might possibly recognize and identify him."
"You can give no description? He reminded you of no one you had ever seen?"
She was trying to think, to recall every detail to memory, but only shook her head.
"He was not a large man, rather slenderly built, but strong; young, I think--the same one I saw before and told you about, Lieutenant Galesworth, and he wore the same uniform."
My eyes turning from her face encountered Miles; and he burst out,
"I'm jiggered if this don't beat me, sir. Of course the lady is telling the truth, but where did that buck ever get one o' our uniforms? We didn't bring no change o' costume along, an' I could tell you now, within ten feet, where every one o' the lads is posted. They ain't any of 'em been long 'nough out o' my sight to pull off this kind of a stunt, an' every mother's son of 'em has got his own clothes on. An' somehow her description don't just exactly fit any of our boys. Who do you reckon the sucker is?"
"I have given up guessing, Sergeant," I answered brusquely, "and am going to find out. If he is down below in the cellar we will be at the bottom of all this mystery in about three minutes. Come on with me. No, the two of us are enough. Miss Billie, you had better remain here."
"But," catching me by the sleeve, "he is armed; he has a revolver and a knife."
"Don't worry about that," and I caught the restraining hand in my own. "One of us will open the door, and the other have the fellow covered before he knows what to do. Come on, Miles."
It seemed dark below, descending as we did suddenly from out the glare of the upper hall, and we had to grope our way forward from the foot of the stairs. I saw Billie follow us a few steps, and then stop, leaning over to witness all she could. I was a step or so in advance of Miles, and had drawn my revolver. The cellar was as quiet as a grave. I felt my way along the wall toward where I remembered this special door to be, endeavoring to make no noise. My eyes could discern outlines better by this time, and, as we approached, I became convinced the door we sought stood ajar. I stopped, startled at the unexpected discovery, and began feeling about for the bar; it was not in the socket. What could this mean? Had Billie told us a false story, or had her prisoner, by some magical means, escaped? She had said he was hacking at the wood with a knife; could he have cut a hole through sufficiently large to permit of his lifting the bar? This seemed scarcely possible, yet no other theory suggested itself, and I stepped rather recklessly forward to investigate. My foot struck against a body on the floor, and, but for Miles, I should have fallen. A moment we stood there breathless, and then he struck a match. A man lay at our feet, face downward, clad in Federal cavalry uniform, about him a shallow pool of blood.