"The commission is the least important part of it," answered McVeigh hopelessly. He was pacing back and forth in decided agitation. "The commission was forwarded me with instructions to take charge of the entire division during the temporary absence of the Major General commanding."

"And you have lost those instructions?" demanded Masterson, who realized the serious consequences impending.

"Yes," and McVeigh halted in his nervous walk, "I have lost those instructions. I have lost the entire plan of movement! It has been stolen from my room--is perhaps now in the hands of the enemy, and I ignorant of the contents! I had only glanced at them and meant to go over them thoroughly tonight. They are gone, and it means failure, court martial, disgrace!"

He had dropped hopelessly on the lower step, his face buried in his hands; the contrast to the joy, the absolute happiness of an hour ago was overwhelming. Masterson stood looking at him, thinking fast, and wondering how much he dared express.

"When did you discover the loss, Colonel?"

"Just now," he answered, rising and commencing again the nervous pacing. "I had gone to my room with Dr. Delaven to find an old uniform of mine he had asked to borrow. Then I found the drawer of my desk open and my papers gone. I said nothing to him of the loss. Any search to be made must be conducted without publicity."

"Certainly, certainly," agreed Judge Clarkson, "but a search, Kenneth, my boy? Where could we begin?"

McVeigh shook his head, but Masterson remembered that Delaven was also an outsider--and Delaven had borrowed a Confederate uniform!

"Colonel," he asked, with a significance he tried ineffectually to subdue, for all subterfuge was difficult to his straightforward nature, "may I ask for what purpose that uniform was borrowed?"

The tone was unmistakable. McVeigh turned as if struck.

"Captain Masterson!"

"Colonel, this is no time to stand on ceremony. Some one who was your guest tonight evidently stole those papers! Most of the guests were old, tried friends, but there were exceptions. Two are foreigners, and one belongs to the enemy. It is most natural that the exceptions be considered first." Clarkson nodded a.s.sent to this very logical deduction and Masterson felt a.s.sured of his support. "The borrowing of the uniform in itself is significant, but at this time is especially so."

"No, no, no!" and his superior officer waved aside the question impatiently. "Dr. Delaven is above suspicion; he is about to offer his services as surgeon to our cause--talked to me of it tonight. The uniform was for some jest with my sister. It has nothing whatever to do with this."

"What became of the man you suspected as a spy this morning?" asked the Judge, and McVeigh also looked at Masterson for reply.

"No, it was not he," said the latter, decidedly. "He was watched every minute of his stay here, and his stay was very brief. But Colonel McVeigh--Kenneth; even at the risk of your displeasure I must remind you that Dr. Delaven is not the only guest here who is either neutral or pledged to the cause of our enemies--I mean Captain Jack Monroe."

"Impossible!" said McVeigh; but Masterson shook his head.

"If the name of every guest here tonight were mentioned you would feel justified in saying the same thing--impossible, yet it has been possible, since the papers are gone. Who but the Federals would want them? Captain Monroe of the Federal army allowed himself to be taken prisoner this morning and brought to your home, though he had a parole in his pocket! The careless reason he gave for it did not satisfy me, and now even you must agree that it looks suspicious."

McVeigh glanced from one to the other in perplexity. He felt that the Judge agreed with Masterson; he was oppressed by the memory of the accusation against the sailor that morning. Spies and traitors at McVeigh Terrace! He had placed his orderly on guard in the room so soon as he discovered the rifled drawer, and had at once come to Masterson for consultation, but once there no solution of the problem suggested itself. There seemed literally no starting point for investigation. The crowd of people there had made the difficulty greater, for servants of the guests had also been there--drivers and boatmen. Yet who among them could have access to the rooms of the family? He shook his head at Masterson's suggestion.

"Your suspicions against Captain Monroe are without foundation," he said decidedly. "The papers had not yet reached me when he arrived. He had no knowledge of their existence."

"How do we know that?" demanded Masterson. "Do you forget that he was present when I gave you the papers?"

McVeigh stopped short and stared at him. By the thin edge of the wedge of suspicion a door seemed forced back and a flood of revelations forced in.

"By Jove!" he said, slowly, "and he heard me speak of the importance of my instructions!"

"Where is he now?" asked the Judge. "I have not seen him for an hour; but there seems only one thing to be done."

"Certainly," agreed Masterson, delighted that McVeigh at last began to look with reason on his own convictions. "He should be arrested at once."

"We must not be hasty in this matter, it is so important," said McVeigh. "Phil, I will ask you to see that a couple of horses are saddled. Have your men do it without arousing the servants'

suspicions. I am going to my room for a more thorough investigation.

Come with me, Judge, if you please. I am glad you remained. I don't want any of the others to know what occurred. I can't believe it of Monroe--yet."

"Kenneth, my boy, I don't like to crush any lingering faith you have in your Northern friend," said Clarkson, laying his hand affectionately on McVeigh's arm as they reached the steps, "but from the evidence before us I--I'm afraid he's gone! He'll never come back!"

At that moment a low, lazy sort of whistle sounded across the lawn, so low and so slow that it was apparently an unconscious accompaniment to reverie or speculation. It was quite dark except where the light shone from the hall. All the gaudy paper lanterns had been extinguished, and when the confidential notes of "Rally 'round the flag, boys," came closer, and the whistler emerged from the deeper shadows, he could only distinguish two figures at the foot of the steps, and they could only locate him by the glow of his cigar in the darkness.

There was a moment's pause and then the whistler said, "h.e.l.lo! Friends or foes?"

"Captain Jack!" said McVeigh, with a note of relief in his voice, very perceptible to the Judge, who felt a mingling of delight and surprise at his failure as a prophet.

"Oh, it's you, is it, Colonel?" and Monroe came leisurely forward. "I fancied every one but myself had gone to bed when I saw the lights out. I walked away across your fields, smoking."

The others did not speak. They could not at once throw aside the constraint imposed by the situation. He felt it as he neared the steps, but remarked carelessly:

"Cloudy, isn't it? I am not much of a weather prophet, but feel as if there is a storm in the air."

"Yes," agreed McVeigh, with an abstracted manner. He was not thinking of the probable storm, but of what action he had best take in the matter, whether to have the suspected man secretly watched, or to make a plain statement of the case, and show that the circ.u.mstantial evidence against him was too decided to be ignored.

"Well, Colonel, you've helped me to a delightful evening," continued the unsuspecting suspect. "I shall carry away most pleasant memories of your plantation hospitality, and have concluded to start with them in the morning." There was a slight pause, then he added: "Sorry I can't stay another day, but I've been thinking it over, and it seems necessary for me to move on to the coast."

"Not going to run from the enemy?" asked Clarkson, with a doubtful attempt at lightness.

"Not necessary, Judge; so I shall retreat in good order." He ascended the steps, yawning slightly. "You two going to stay up all night?"

"No," said McVeigh, "I've just been persuading Judge Clarkson to remain; we'll be in presently."

"Well, I'll see you in the morning, gentlemen. Good night."

They exchanged good nights, and he entered the house, still with that soft whisper of a whistle as accompaniment. It grew softer as he entered the house, and the two stood there until the last sound had died away.

"Going in the morning, Kenneth," said the Judge, meaningly. "Now, what do you think?"

"That Masterson is right," answered McVeigh. "He is the last man I should have suspected, but there seems nothing to do except make the arrest at once, or put him secretly under surveillance without his knowledge. I incline to the latter, but will consult with Masterson.

Come in."

They entered the hall, where McVeigh shut the door and turned the light low as they pa.s.sed through. Pluto was nodding half asleep in the back hall, and his master told him to go to bed, he would not be needed. Though he had formed no definite plan of action he felt that the servants had best be kept ignorant of all movements for the present. Somebody's servants might have helped with that theft, why not his own?

In the upper hall he pa.s.sed Margeret, who was entering the room of Miss Loring with a pitcher of water. The hall was dark as they pa.s.sed the corridor leading to the rooms of Madame Caron, Evilena, Miss Loring and Captain Monroe. Light showed above the doors of Miss Loring and Monroe. The other rooms were already dark.

The two men paused long enough to note those details, then McVeigh walked to the end of the corridor and bolted the door to the balcony.

Monroe was still softly whistling at intervals. He would cease occasionally and then, after a few moments, would commence again where he had left off. He was evidently very busy or very much preoccupied.

To leave his room and descend the stairs he would have to pa.s.s McVeigh's room, which was on the first landing. The orderly was on guard there, within. McVeigh sent him with a message to Masterson, who was in the rear of the building. The man pa.s.sed out along the back corridor and the other two entered the room, but left the door ajar.

In the meantime a man who had been watching Monroe's movements in the park for some time now crept closer to the house. He watched him enter the house and the other two follow. He could not hear what they said, but the closing of the door told him the house was closed for the night. The wind was rising and low clouds were scurrying past. Now and then the stars were allowed to peep through, showing a faint light, and any one close to him would have seen that he wore a Confederate uniform and that his gaze was concentrated on the upper balcony. At last he fancied he could distinguish a white figure against the gla.s.s door opening from the corridor. a.s.suring himself of the fact he stepped forward into the open and was about to cross the little s.p.a.ce before the house when he was conscious of another figure, also in gray uniform, and the unmistakable cavalry hat, coming stealthily from the other side of the house.

The second figure also glanced upwards at the balcony, but was too close to perceive the slender form above moving against one of the vine-covered pillars when the figure draped in white bent over as though trying to decipher the features under the big hat, and just as the second comer made a smothered attempt to clear his throat, something white fell at his feet.

"Sweet Evilena!" he said, picking it up. "Faith, the mother has told her and the darling was waiting for me. Delaven's private post office!" He laid down the guitar and fumbled for a match, when the watcher from the shadows leaped upon him from behind, throttling him that no sound be made, and while he pinned him to the ground with his knee, kept one hand on his throat and with the other tried to loosen the grasp of Delaven's hand on the papers.