"What a dangerous character you have become!" said Judithe, turning to her messenger with an amused smile. "I feared that beard would make you look like a pirate, but I never suspected _this_ of you--and you say," she added, turning to Masterson, "that my poor maid is also under suspicion? It is ridiculous, abominable! I must see to it at once. The girl will be frightened horribly among such evidences of your Southern chivalry," and she shrugged her shoulders with a little gesture of disdain. "And what, pray, do you intend doing with my sailor here?"

The man had been staring at Masterson as though astounded at the accusations. But he did not speak, and the Confederate agent never took his eyes off him.

"Ask him his name," he suggested, softly, to Masterson, who took paper and pencil from the desk and handed it to the suspect. "Write your name there," he said, and when it was quickly, good naturedly done, the self-appointed judge read it and turned to Judithe.

"Madame Caron, will you please tell me this man's name?" and the messenger himself stared when she replied, haughtily:

"No, Captain Masterson, I will not!"

"Ah, you absolutely refuse, Madame?"

"I do; you have accused my employe of being a spy, but your att.i.tude suggests that it is not he, but myself, whom you suspect."

"Madame, you cannot comprehend the seriousness of the situation," and Masterson had difficulty in keeping his patience. "Every one he speaks with, everything concerning him is of interest. These are war times, Madame Caron, and the case will not admit of either delays or special courtesies. I shall have to ask you for the paper he placed in your hands as I entered the room."

Judithe picked up the paper without a word and reached it to him, with the languid air of one bored by the entire affair.

He glanced at it and handed it back. As he did so he perceived an unfinished letter on the desk. In a moment his suspicions were aroused; that important letter in the mail bag!

"You did not complete the letter you were writing?"

"No," and she lifted it from the desk and held it towards him. "You perceive! I was so careless as to blot the paper; do you wish to examine that?"

His face flushed at the mockery of her tone and glance. He felt it more keenly, that the eyes of Monroe were on him. The task before him was difficult enough without that additional annoyance.

"No, Madame," he replied, stiffly, "but the situation is such that I feel justified in asking the contents of the envelope you sealed and gave to the servant."

"But that is a private letter," she protested, as he took it from the mail bag; "it can be of no use to any government or its agents."

"That can best be determined by reading it, Madame. It certainly cannot go out in this mail unless it is examined."

"By you?--oh!" And Judithe put out her hand in protest.

"Captain Masterson!"

"Sir!" and Masterson turned on Monroe, who had spoken for the first time. As he did so Judithe deliberately leaned forward and s.n.a.t.c.hed the letter from his hand.

"You shall not read it!" she said, decidedly, and just then Evilena and her brother came along the veranda, and with them Delaven. Judithe moved swiftly to the window before any one else could speak.

"Colonel McVeigh, I appeal to you," and involuntarily she reached out her hand, which he took in his as he entered the room. "This--gentleman--on some political pretense, insists that I submit to such examinations as spies are subject to. I have been accused in the presence of these people, and in their presence I demand an apology for this attempt to examine my private, personal letters."

"Captain Masterson!" and the blue steel of McVeigh's eyes flashed in anger and rebuke. But Masterson, strong in his a.s.surance of right, held up his hand.

"You don't understand the situation, Colonel. That man is suspected of being the a.s.sistant to a most dangerous, unknown spy within our lines.

He has been followed from Beaufort by a Confederate secret service agent, whom he tried to escape by doubling on the road, taking by-ways, riding fully twenty miles out of his course, to reach this point un.o.bserved."

For the first time the suspected man spoke, and it was to Judithe.

"That is quite true, Madame. I mean that I rode out of my way. But the reason of it is that I came over the road for the first time; there were no sign-boards up, and my directions had not been explicit enough to prevent me losing my way. That is my only excuse for not being here earlier. I am not landsman enough to make my way through the country roads and timber."

"You perceive, Colonel McVeigh, the man is in my employ, and has come here by my orders," said Judithe, with a certain impatience at the density of the accuser.

"That should be credential enough," and McVeigh's tone held a distinct reprimand as he frowned at Masterson's senseless accusation, but that officer made a gesture of protest. He was being beaten, but he did not mean to give up without a hard fight.

"Colonel, there were special reasons for doubt in the matter. Madame Caron, apparently, does not know even the man's name. I asked him to write it--here it is," and he handed McVeigh the paper. "I asked her to name him--she refused!"

"Yes; I resented the manner and reason for the question," a.s.sented Judithe; "but the man has been the master of my yacht for over a year, and his name is Pierson--John T. Pierson."

"Correct," and McVeigh glanced at the paper on which the name was written. "Will you also write the name of Madame Caron's yacht, Mr.

Pierson?" and he handed him a book and pencil. "Pardon me," and he smiled rea.s.suringly at Judithe, "this is not the request of suspicion, but faith." He took the book from Pierson and glanced at the open page and then at her--"the name of your yacht is?--"

"_The Marquise_," she replied, with a little note of surprise in her voice, as she smiled at Evilena, who had slipped to her side, and understood the smile. Evilena and she had made plans for a season of holidays on that same yacht, as soon as the repairs were made. Colonel McVeigh tossed the book indignantly on the table.

"Thank you, Madame! Captain Masterson, this is the most outrageous thing I ever knew an officer to be guilty of! You have presumed to suspect a lady in my house--the guest of your superior officer, and you shall answer to me for it! Mr. Pierson, you are no longer under suspicion here, sir. And you," he added, turning to the Confederate secret agent, "can report at once to your chief that spies are not needed on the McVeigh plantation."

"Colonel McVeigh, if you had seen what I saw--"

"Madame Caron's word would have been sufficient," interrupted McVeigh, without looking at him. And Judithe held out the letter.

"I am quite willing you should see what he saw," she said, with a curious smile. "He saw me, after the arrival of Mr. Pierson, seal an envelope leaving him in ignorance of its contents. The seal is yet unbroken--will you read it?"

"You do not suppose I require proof of your innocence?" he asked, refusing the letter, and looking at her fondly as he dare in the presence of the others.

"But I owe it to myself to offer the proof now," she insisted, "and at the same time I shall ask Mr. Pierson to offer himself for personal search if Captain Masterson yet retains suspicion of his honesty;" she glanced towards Pierson, who smiled slightly, and bowed without speaking. Then she turned to Delaven, who had been a surprised onlooker of the scene.

"Dr. Delaven, in the cause of justice, may I ask you to examine the contents of this letter?" and she tore open the envelope and offered it.

"Anything in the wide world to serve you, Madame la Marquise," he answered, with a shade more than usual of deference in his manner, as he took it. "Are the contents to be considered professionally, that is, confidentially?"

She had taken Evilena by the hand, bowed slightly to the group, and had moved to the door, when he spoke. Monroe, who had watched every movement as he stood there in a fever of suspense for her sake, drew a breath of relief as she replied:

"Oh, no! Be kind enough to read it aloud, or Captain Masterson may include you in the dangerous intrigues here," and, smiling still, she pa.s.sed out with Evilena to the lawn.

But a few seconds elapsed, when a perfect shout of laughter came from the library. The special detective did not share in it, for he thrust his hands into his pockets with a curse, and Masterson turned to him with a frowning, baffled stare--an absolutely crestfallen manner, as he listened to the following, read in Delaven's best style:

"To Madame Smith, "Mobile, Ala.:

"The pink morning gown is perfect, but I am in despair over the night robes! I meant you to use the lace, not the embroidery, on them; pray change them at once, and send at the same time the flounced lawn petticoats if completed. I await reply.

"Judithe de Caron."

CHAPTER XXV.

"Certainly, I apologize," and Masterson looked utterly crushed by his mistaken zeal; "apologize to every one concerned, collectively and individually."