Love under Fire Part 39

"That was Ragan, Miss Billie--a big fellow, with red moustache?--he was killed."

"Killed! Oh, in the attack; yet--yet you still hold the house, do you not?"

"Yes, or I certainly should not be here with you. We have repulsed two a.s.saults, but have lost heavily, and can scarcely hope to come safely through another. Before it is made I must get you away."

"Out of the house, you mean?"

"Yes, and at once. We have made such a spirited defence that when we are finally overpowered there will be little mercy shown. Not even your s.e.x would protect you, even if you were fortunate enough to escape flying bullets. Your father is with Chambers, and, no doubt, the Confederate commander out yonder will forward you to his care. I will take you to him under a flag of truce."

We were out where the light shown upon us dimly, yet sufficiently to reveal expressions. Her face was colorless, but her eyes exhibited no fear.

"Wait, Lieutenant Galesworth," she insisted, still clinging to my hand.

"I must understand better, and you must hear first what I have to tell.

Why did father leave the house without me?"

"We both believed you had already gone."

"I? That was a strange supposition."

"Not at all; you had disappeared; we could discover no trace of you anywhere. Your father reported that you had overheard all that occurred in the hall below--the arrival of reinforcements, my orders to defend the house, the Federal plan of attack. Major Hardy told you his parole prevented him from reporting this discovery, yet no pledge of honor bound you. What else could I think, but that you had escaped into the Confederate lines with the news?"

She stared into my face, breathing heavily, yet without speaking. Then she released the clasp of my hand, and leaned back against the wall, shading her eyes.

"Do not misunderstand me, Billie," I urged anxiously. "I could never have blamed you. I sent that word to you through your father. You are a daughter of the South, and I honored your loyalty. There was no reason why you should not sacrifice me for the sake of the cause."

"Are you sorry I did not?"

"No, far from it, and--and, Billie, it is not the first time; does it mean--"

"It means nothing," she broke in, "except a strange combination of circ.u.mstances. I did think of all this; it came to me in a flash. I realized that it was undoubtedly my duty, and--and, perhaps I should have found courage to attempt the task. I went to my room tempted, my purpose swayed by the call of the South, and--and my friendship for you.

I had to be disloyal somewhere, and--and it was so hard to choose. I am glad you do not blame me, but I believe I should have gone, just as you thought I did, except for what happened."

A sh.e.l.l exploded near the corner of the house, shaking the whole structure, the fragments tearing into the wood. She caught me by the arm, and I held her tightly, with face buried on my shoulder.

"We must be quick," I urged. "Those are Federal sh.e.l.ls overshooting their mark, but one may strike the house at any moment. Tell me what it was that happened."

"It seems so unreal now," she faltered, her whole form trembling, "that I hardly know how to tell it--yet every word is true. I--I have captured the murderer of Captain Le Gaire."

"You have! Who was he?"

"I cannot tell; I--I haven't even seen the man's face, but--but he is one of your soldiers."

"Impossible! There is not one of our men unaccounted for. I could call every trooper of our first company here now to confront you, except two who have been killed. The fellow does not belong to us."

"Well, he wears your uniform," and she drew back indignantly, "even to having the b.u.t.tons removed. You must believe me, for I can prove it; I can take you to where he is."

"Where?"

"Down cellar, in the place where you had the Confederate prisoners confined. He--he is locked in there; I held the door against him, and dropped the bar."

I looked at her in speechless wonder, a wonder not untinged by admiration and love. She was standing now, erect, facing me, her cheeks reddening under my direct gaze.

"I am going to make you believe," she insisted. "I will tell you how it happened, and then you shall take some men with you, and go down there, and bring the man up. No, I want to tell you about it first--- please, please listen."

"Would you mind if I call Miles, and then you can tell your story to both of us?" I asked. "The fellow is armed, is he not; and I shall need to take some one along with me?"

"Yes, the man has a revolver. You mean the sergeant? I do not mind telling him."

I hurried back to the front of the house, more anxious to be a.s.sured as to what was going on outside than to discover Miles. Yet there was nothing alarming, even the cavalry regiment having been withdrawn across the pike. Without a question the sergeant followed me back to where the girl waited.

CHAPTER x.x.xIV

HER STORY

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 pa.s.sed 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 hoa.r.s.ely, "for I swear to G.o.d 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 a.s.sailant'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."