"You get the mail bag while I go for it, Pluto," she said after tossing the papers about in a vain search; "and Captain Monroe, will you look over this bit of figures for me? It is an expense list for my yacht, I may need it today and have a wretched head for business details of that sort. I am helpless in them."

Then she was gone, and Monroe, with a pencil, noted the amount, corrected a trifling mistake, and suddenly became conscious that the grave, most attentive, black man, was regarding him in a manner inviting question.

"Well, my man, what is it?" he asked, folding up the paper, and speaking with so kindly a smile that Pluto stumbled eagerly into the heart of questions long deferred.

"Jes' a word, Mahs Captain. Is it true you been took prisoner? Is it true the Link.u.m men are whipped?"

"Well, if they are they don't know it; they are still fighting, any way."

"If--if they win," and Pluto looked around nervously as he asked the question, "will it free us, Mahs Captain? We n.i.g.g.ahs can't fine out much down heah. Yo' see, sah, fust off they all tell how the Nawth free us sure if the Nawth won the battles. Then--then word done come how Mahsa Link.u.m nevah say so. Tell me true, Mahs Captain, will we be free?"

His eagerness was so intense, Monroe hesitated to tell him the facts.

He understood, now, why the dark face had been watching him so hungrily ever since his arrival.

"The men who make the laws must decide those questions, my man,"

he said, at last. 'In time freedom certainly will be arranged for--but--"

"But Mahsa Link.u.m ain't done said it yet--that it, Mahsa?"

"Yes, that's it."

"Thank yo', sah," and Monroe heard him take a deep breath, sad as tears, when he turned into the hall for the mail bag.

A stranger was just coming up the steps, a squarely built, intelligent-eyed man, with a full dark beard; his horse, held by one of the boys under a shade tree, showed signs of hard riding, and the fact that he was held instead of stabled, showed that the call was to be brief.

The servants were clearing away the lunch things. Mrs. McVeigh had entered the house. Delaven and Gertrude were walking beside Loring's chair, wheeled by Ben, along the shady places. Evilena was coming towards them from across the lawn, pouting because of an ineffectual attempt to catch up with Ken, whom she fancied she saw striding along the back drive to the quarters, but he had walked too fast, and the hedge had hidden him. She came back disappointed to be asked by Delaven what sort of uniform she was pursuing this time, to which he very properly received no reply except such as was vouchsafed by silent, scornful lips and indignant eyes.

Masterson, who was walking thoughtfully alone, noted this distribution of the people as the stranger dismounted, inquired of Caroline for Madame Caron, and was received by Pluto at the door. The man wore a dark blue suit, plain but for a thin cord of gold on collar and sleeve. He did not recognize it as a uniform, yet instinctively a.s.sociated it with that other blue uniform whose wearer had caused him an annoyance he would not soon forget. He was there alone now with Madame Caron for whom this stranger was asking. He wondered if Colonel McVeigh was there also, but concluded not, as he had seen him on the western veranda with his hat on. All these thoughts touched him and pa.s.sed on as he stood there looking critically at the dusty horse.

At the same moment he heard the thud, thud of another horse turning in at the Terrace gates; the rider was leaning forward as though urging the animal to its utmost. At sight of Masterson he threw up his hand to attract attention, and the others on the lawn stared at this second tumultuous arrival and the haste Captain Masterson made to hear what he had to say--evidently news of importance from the coast or the North.

Loring hoped it meant annihilation of some Yankee stronghold, and Evilena hoped it did not mean that Kenneth must leave before the party.

The man whom Pluto showed into the library with the information that Madame Caron would be down at once, glanced about him quickly, and with annoyance, when he found there was another man in the room. But the instant Monroe's face was seen by him, he uttered an exclamation of pleasure.

"By Jove! Captain Jack?" and he turned to him eagerly, after noting that Pluto had left the door.

"I don't think I know you, sir, though you evidently know one of my names," and his tone was not particularly cordial as he eyed the stranger.

"Don't you remember the night run you made on the yacht _Marquise_, last March?" and the man's tone was low and hurried. "I had no beard then, which makes a difference. This trip is not quite so important, but has been more annoying. I've been followed, have doubled like a hare for hours, and don't believe I've thrown them off the track after all. I have a message to deliver; if I can't see Madame alone at once you get it to her."

"Can't do it; don't want to see it!" and Monroe's tone was quick and decided as the man's own. "I am on parole."

"Parole!" and the stranger looked at him skeptically. "Look here, you are evidently working with Madame, and afraid to trust me, but it's all right. I swear it is! I destroyed the message when I saw I was followed, but I know the contents, and if you will take it--"

"You mistake. I have absolutely no knowledge of Madame's affairs at present."

"Then you won't take it?" and the man's tones held smothered rage.

"So, when put to the test, Captain Jack Monroe is afraid to risk what thousands are risking for the cause, at the front and in secret--a life!"

"It is just as well not to say 'afraid,' my good fellow," and Monroe's words were a trifle colder, a shade more deliberate. "Do you know what a parole means? I excuse your words because of your present position, which may be desperate. If you are her friend I will do what I can to save you; but the contents of the dispatch I refuse to hear."

Judithe entered the door as he spoke, and came forward smilingly.

"Certainly; it was not intended that you should. This is the captain of my yacht, and his messages only interest me."

"Madame Caron!" and Monroe's tones were imploring, "Consider where you are. Think of the risks you run!"

"Risks?" and she made a little gesture of disdain. She felt so much stronger now that the suspense was over--now that the message was really here. "Risks are fashionable just now, Monsieur, and I always follow the fashions."

He shook his head hopelessly; words were of no use. He turned away, and remembering that he still held the slip with her account on, he halted and handed it to the stranger, who was nearest him.

"I presume these figures were meant for the master of your yacht," he remarked, without looking at her, and pa.s.sed out on the veranda, where he halted at sight of Masterson running up the steps, and the dusty rider close behind.

Judithe had seated herself at the desk and picked up the pen. But as Monroe stepped out on the veranda she turned impatiently:

"The despatch?" and she held out her hand.

"I was followed--I read and destroyed it."

"Its contents?"

"Too late, Madame," he remarked, in a less confidential tone, as he laid the slip Monroe had given him on the desk. He had seen Masterson at the door and with him the other rider!

Judithe did not raise her head. She was apparently absorbed in her task of addressing an envelope.

"I will speak with you directly," she said, carelessly sealing the letter. He bowed and stood waiting, respectfully. Glancing up, she saw Captain Masterson, who had entered from the veranda, and bestowed on him a careless, yet gracious smile. Pluto brought the mail bag in from the hall, and she dropped the letter in, also a couple of papers she took from the top of the desk.

"There, that is all. Make haste, please, Pluto," and she glanced at the clock. "I should not like that letter to miss the mail; it is important."

"Yes'm, I gwine right away now," and he turned to the door, when Masterson stepped before him, and to his astonishment, took the bag from his hand.

"You can't take this with you," he said, in a tone of authority. "Go tell Colonel McVeigh he is needed here on business most important."

Pluto stared at him in stupid wonder, and Judithe arose from her chair.

"Go, by all means, Pluto," she said, quietly, "Captain Masterson's errand is, no doubt, more important than a lady's could be," and she moved towards the door.

"I apologize, Madame Caron, for countermanding your orders," said Masterson, quickly, "but circ.u.mstances make it necessary that no person and no paper leave this room until this man's ident.i.ty is determined," and he pointed to the messenger. "Do you know him?"

"Certainly I know him; he is in my employ, the sailing master of my yacht."

Pluto came in again and announced, "Mahs Kenneth not in the house; he gone somewhere out to the quarters." Masterson received the news with evident annoyance. There was a moment of indecision as he glanced from the stranger to Monroe, who had sauntered through the open window, and across to Judithe, who gave him one glance which he interpreted to mean she wished he was somewhere else. But he only smiled and--remained.

"There is only one thing left for me to do in Colonel McVeigh's absence," said Masterson, addressing the group in general, "and that is to investigate this affair myself, as every minute's delay may mean danger. Madame Caron, we are forced to believe this man is a spy."

Judithe smiled incredulously, and he watched her keenly as he continued: "More, he is a.s.sociated with a clever French creole called Louise Trouvelot, who says she is your maid and who is at present under surveillance in Savannah, and they both are suspected of being only agents for a very accomplished spy, who has been doing dangerous work in the South for many months. I explain so you will comprehend that investigation is necessary. This man," and he pointed to the other stranger, who now stepped inside, "has followed him from the coast under special orders."