Love under Fire Part 31

"And you say he was wounded?"

"Certainly--you ought to know, the blow of an a.s.sa.s.sin, not a soldier."

She looked straight at me, her cheeks red, her eyes burning with indignation. Then, as though she could bear my presence no longer, she swept into the room, and closed the door in my face. It was an action of such utter contempt that I actually staggered back, grasping the rail of the stair. What in the name of Heaven had gained possession of the girl?

What infernal lie had been told her? By all the G.o.ds, I would find Le Gaire, and choke the truth out of him. My head ached yet with the blow he had dealt me, but this hurt worse. I had a reason now for running the man down. Wherever he had gone, even into the Confederate camp, I vowed I would follow. But first the house: I could conceive of no way in which he could have gotten out--there was a guard in front, and I had locked the rear door. I went at the task deliberately, coolly, determined to overlook nothing. There was something of value at stake now, and my mind was as busy as my hands and eyes. How did he ever succeed in getting to Billie? I had locked her door, and taken away the key. It was not until I invaded the last room on the main floor that I solved this riddle--the two apartments formed a suite with connecting door between. However he was not there now, and all that remained to search was the servants' ell.

The hallway narrowed, and was lower by a single step, the back stairs at the left. There was no window, and with all the doors closed, I could see down only a portion of the way. The hallway itself was gloomy, the shade of the rear window being closely drawn. This, with the stillness all about, enabled me to hear the voices of the men in the kitchen below, and to become aware that the firing, sounding from a distance since early morning, seemed now much closer at hand. It was not altogether artillery any longer, but I could plainly distinguish the volleys of musketry. What could this signify? Were the Confederates being forced back? If so would the Hardy house be caught in the maelstrom of retreat? The possibility of such a result only made haste more imperative. There were three doors at the right, and two opposite.

I opened these cautiously, half expecting Le Gaire to dash out, with any weapon he might have secured, desperate enough to fight hard. But nothing occurred, the rooms showed no sign of having been lately occupied. I was at the one next to the last when a board creaked somewhere behind me, and I wheeled about instantly, and ran back to the head of the stairs. There was nothing visible, and a glance down the front hall proved it also deserted--only the door of Miss Willifred's room stood slightly ajar. She was watching me then, fearful lest the fellow had failed to get away. This discovery added to my anxiety, and my anger. He should not get away--not if I could prevent it--until he confessed to her the truth. I ran back into the ell, fearful now that he had escaped through a window, yet determined to examine that last room.

There was a rag carpet along the back hall, and, in the semi-darkness, I tripped, falling heavily forward, striking the floor with a crash, my revolver flying from my hand, and hitting the side wall. I was on my knees in an instant, thoughtless of everything except that I had come into contact with a body. The shock numbed me, nor could my fingers alone solve the mystery. I sprang erect, and threw open the nearest side door, permitting the light to stream in. Then I saw the man's face, upturned, lifeless--the face of Gerald Le Gaire. It seemed to me I could not move, could not even breathe, as I stared down at the motionless form. Then I touched his wrist, feeling for a pulse which had ceased to beat. A noise at my back caused me to start, and glance behind. Billie stood at the end of the narrow hall.

"What is it? Have--have you killed him?"

I whirled, facing her, indignant at the words, and yet understanding as swiftly the reason for her suspicions.

"It is Captain Le Gaire. I have just found him lying here."

"Found him! Yes, but not lying there; I heard the noise, the fall of his body. Is--is he dead?"

She stood grasping the stair-rail, shrinking back from closer approach, her white face horror-stricken. I drew a quick breath, fairly quivering under the sting of her words.

"Yes, he is dead, Miss Hardy," I said, knowing I must end the suspense, "but not by my hand. I tripped and fell in the darkness, causing the noise you heard. I am going to ask you to return to your room; you can be of no service here. I will have your father and Captain Bell help me with the body."

She never moved, her eyes on my face.

"Then--then will you permit my father to come to me?"

"Certainly--perhaps we will know then how this occurred."

"Is that your revolver lying there?"

I had forgotten the weapon, but perceived it now, on the floor just beyond Le Gaire's head.

"Yes, it was dropped when I fell," I took a step toward her. "You will go back, will you not?"

She seemed to shrink from my approach, and moved backward, still facing me, until she came to her own door. There she remained a moment, clinging to the k.n.o.b, but as I emerged into the full light of the front hall, she stepped into the room, and closed the door. Some way, her action hurt me worse than any words could have done, yet I walked past to the stairs in silence, and called to the guard below.

Miles came up with the two Confederates, and a dozen words of explanation sufficed. Together we picked up the body, bore it into a near-by room, and placed it upon the bed. The man had been struck back of the ear, apparently by the b.u.t.t of a revolver or the stock of a gun, the skull crushed. Death had been instantaneous; possibly he never knew what hit him. We examined the wound, and then looked into each others'

faces utterly unable to account for the condition.

"By Gad, I don't see how he ever got that," said Hardy. "Nor this ugly cut here on the forehead. What do you make out of it, Galesworth?"

I shook my head, thoroughly mystified.

"I've told you all I know; he was lying there in the open when I found him--there was nothing he could have struck against in falling."

"That was a blow struck him," insisted the sergeant, "either by a square-handled pistol, or a carbine stock. I've seen that sorter thing before; but who the h.e.l.l ever hit him?"

No one attempted to answer. Then I said,

"The only thing I have noticed which might be a clue is this: when I first came in through the kitchen I discovered a clod of fresh clay dirt on the back stairs. I supposed it had dropped from Le Gaire's boots. But there's no sign of yellow clay on his boots now. It must have been some one else."

"Trailin' the poor devil," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Miles. "But who was he? An' where is he now?"

None attempted a guess, looking blankly into each others' faces, and down upon the ghastly features of the dead man. We were all accustomed to death, and in terrible form, but this was different, this held a horror all its own. I could hear the heavy breathing, we stood so motionless.

"Major Hardy,"--and it was like sacrilege to break the silence,--"we can never clear the mystery standing here. I've examined every room on this floor, and there is not so much as a rat in any of them. Whoever the murderer was, he has either got away, or is hidden on some other floor--is there an attic?"

"Yes, but with no stairs; the only way to get there is by the kitchen roof. What do you propose to do?"

"Take a moment and see if I can think it out," I said, drawing a sheet up over the dead face. "There must be some simple way to account for all this if we can only get on the right trail. Come, gentlemen."

We pa.s.sed out together, and stopped in front of the closed door. The firing without was growing so much heavier that all noticed it, Bell striding to the end of the hall, and thrusting his head out of the window. Still it was not close enough as yet to be alarming, and my thought was upon other things.

"Major, I wish you would go in and speak to your daughter," I said. "I told her you would come and tell her all you knew."

I watched him cross to the door, knock, and enter.

CHAPTER XXVIII

I FORCE BILLIE TO LISTEN

There was a narrow settee against the wall, and I sat down upon it, to think and to wait for Hardy's return. Eager as I was to discover the cause of Le Gaire's death, yet it seemed almost more important that Billie be brought to an understanding of conditions. Her father could scarcely fail this time to relate in full the details of our encounter, and the girl would realize at once her injustice toward me. I hardly knew what I dared hope as a result, but she was impulsive, warm-hearted, and would surely endeavor to make amends. Bell came back from the front of the house.

"Some fight going on out there," indicating the north and east, "and seems to be drifting this way."

"Our fellows are driving you," I replied. "Have been noticing that all the morning; looks as if your left and centre were giving way."

"Wait until Chambers gets up, and you'll hear another tune," his pride touched. "What's the sergeant doing?"

"Evidently going to get a look at the attic." Then, deciding quickly,--"I am going to turn you all loose, and try to get back to our lines, as soon as we can gain some understanding of this death mystery, Bell. It looks as though the battle would end up somewhere about here, and I can hardly expect to fight the entire Confederate army with ten men and a sergeant. It's a dignified retreat for me. Where now?"

"To help your man. I am crazy to get away. I'm a soldier, Galesworth, and they're wondering out there why I am not in my place. The earlier you say go, the better pleased I'll be."

He clambered out the window to where Miles was perched on the steep roof, and I was left alone, with no noise in my ears but the continuous firing, the reverberations already jarring the house. I found it difficult to collect my thoughts, or to reason out the situation.

Everything had occurred so swiftly, so unexpectedly, as to leave me confused--the surging of battle our way, the affair with Le Gaire, his strange death, the thought which had taken possession of Billie, the skulking murderer hid somewhere within the house--all combined to leave me in a state of perplexity. I should have withdrawn my men before daylight; there was no sign of any Federal troops advancing up the ravine, and probably my messenger had failed to get through. It looked as though we were left to our fate. Every moment counted, and yet I could not leave until this mystery was made clear, and Miss Willifred convinced of my innocence. I was so involved in the tangled threads that to run away was almost a confession, and must risk remaining, moment by moment, in hope some discovery would make it all plain. Yet the longer I thought the less I understood. Le Gaire had come to Billie wounded--but how? His very condition had appealed to her as a woman. She had pitied, sympathized, and he had taken advantage of her natural compa.s.sion to falsely charge me with the whole trouble. How far he had gone, what foul accusation he had made, could not be guessed, yet he had sufficiently poisoned her mind against me. Then circ.u.mstances had combined to make the case still blacker. Doubtless to her it was already conclusive. I had been seeking the fellow alone, revolver in hand. She had overheard what must have sounded like a struggle, and there was the dead man, his skull crushed by a blow. Everything pointed directly toward me from her point of view--motive, opportunity. Who else could it be? Even I, anxious as I was, could not answer that question. I had seen no one, was not aware the dead man had an enemy about the place, could discover no clue except that bit of damp clay on the stairs. Yes, and my own boots were stained with it also--only I knew that lump never came from mine.

These thoughts swept across my mind in lightning-like flashes, but brought no solution to the problem. Then Major Hardy suddenly appeared, closing the door, and mopping his face with a handkerchief. His eyes met mine.

"By Gad, Galesworth," he began, "woman is the hardest creature to comprehend on this foot-stool. I've been trying to understand them for fifty years, and am still in the primary cla.s.s. You'd never have thought that girl of mine cared anything for Le Gaire to hear her talk last night, yet, now the fellow is dead, she is crazy. Lying in there on the bed, crying, and won't say a word. Only thing she asked me when I came in was what he had been killed with. I said it looked as if he had been struck from behind with a pistol b.u.t.t, and then she collapsed. Couldn't get a thing out of her--just cried, and begged me to go away; said she'd be all right, if left alone. Blamed if I know what to do with a woman like that--over such a fellow as Le Gaire too! By Gad, I supposed Billie had more sense. When she wouldn't talk to me I proposed sending you in to explain matters. You should have seen her eyes, Galesworth, through the tears. Mad! I never waited to hear what she was trying to say. I reckoned the best thing to do was to leave her alone a while."

"You explained nothing?"

"No--what was there to explain?"

"Major," I said, every nerve braced for conflict, "with your permission I am going in there and have a talk with your daughter--may I?"

"Certainly, as far as I am concerned, but I don't envy you the job."