"Give me that paper!" he whispered fiercely. "Give it to me or I'll kill you where you lay! Give it to me!"

In the struggle Delaven struck the guitar with the heel of his boot, there was a crash of resonant wood, and a wail of the strings, and it reached the ears of Masterson and the orderly, who were about to enter the side door from the arbor.

Masterson halted to listen whence the crash came, but the orderly's ears were more accurate and he dashed towards the corner.

"Captain," he called in a loud whisper, as he saw the struggling figures, and at the call and the sound of quick steps Pierson leaped to his feet and ran for the shrubbery.

"Halt!" called Masterson, and fired one shot from his revolver. The fugitive leaped to one side as the order rang out and the bullet went whistling past. He had cleared the open s.p.a.ce and was in the shrubbery. The orderly dashed after him as Masterson caught Delaven, who was scrambling to his feet, feeling his throat and trying to take a full breath.

"Who are you?" demanded Masterson, shaking him a trifle to hasten the smothered speech. "Doctor Delaven! You! Who was that man?"

"It's little I can tell you," gasped the other, "except that he's some murderous rival who wanted to make an angel of me. Man, but he has a grip!"

Margeret suddenly appeared on the veranda with a lamp held high above her head, as she peered downward in the darkness, and by its light Masterson scanned the appearance of Delaven with a doubtful eye.

"Why did the man a.s.sault you?" he demanded, and Delaven showed the long envelope.

"He was trying to rob me of a letter let fall from the balcony above, bad luck to him!"

At that moment the orderly came running back to say that the man had got away; a horse had been tied over in the pines, they could hear the beat of its hoofs now on the big road.

"Get a horse and follow him," ordered Masterson briefly, as McVeigh and Clarkson came down the stairs and past Margeret. "Arrest him, shoot him, fetch him back some way!" Then he turned again to the would-be cavalier of romance, who was surveying the guitar disconsolately.

"Doctor Delaven, what are you doing in that uniform?"

"I was about to give a concert," returned that individual, who made a grotesque figure in the borrowed suit, a world too large for him.

McVeigh laughed as he heard the reply and surveyed the speaker.

Masterson's persistent search for spies had evidently spoiled Delaven's serenade.

Mrs. McVeigh opened a window and asked what the trouble was, and Masterson a.s.sured her it was only an accident--his revolver had gone off, but no one was hurt, on which a.s.surance she said good night and closed the window, while the group stood looking at each other questioningly. Masterson's manner showed that it was something more than an accident.

"What is the meaning of this?" asked McVeigh in a guarded tone; and Masterson pointed to the package in Delaven's hand.

"I think we've found it, Colonel," he said, excitedly. "Doctor Delaven, what is in that envelope?"

"Faith, I don't know, Captain. The fellow didn't give me time to read it."

"Give it to me."

"No, I'll not," returned Delaven, moving towards the light.

"And why not?" demanded Masterson, suspiciously.

"Because it's from a lady, and it's private."

He held the envelope to the light, but there was no name or address on it. He tore off the end and in extracting the contents two papers slipped out and fell on the ground. Masterson picked them up and after a glance waved them triumphantly, while Delaven looked puzzled over the slip in his hands. It was only something about military matters,--the furthest thing possible from a billet-doux.

"I thought myself it was the weightiest one ever launched by Cupid,"

he remarked as he shook his head over the mystery. But Masterson thrust the papers into McVeigh's hands.

"Your commission and instructions, Colonel!" he said, jubilantly.

"What a run of luck. See if they are all right."

"Every one of them," and in a moment the Judge and Masterson were shaking hands with him, while Delaven stood apart and stared. He was glad they were having so much joy to themselves, but could not see why he should be choked to obtain it for them.

"Understand one thing," said Masterson, when the congratulations were over; "those papers were thrown from that balcony to Dr. Delaven by mistake. The man they were meant for tried to strangle the doctor and has escaped, but the man who escaped, Colonel, was evidently only a messenger, and the real culprit, the traitor, is in your house now, and reached the balcony through that corridor door!"

The wind blew Margeret's lamp out, leaving them, for an instant, in darkness, but she entered the hall, turned up the light there so that it shone across the veranda and down the steps; then she lit the lamp in the library and went softly up the stairs and out of sight.

"Come into the library," suggested McVeigh. "You are right, Phil, there is only one thing to be done in the face of such evidence By Jove! It seems incredible. I would have fought for Jack Monroe, sworn by him, and after all--"

A leisurely step sounded on the stairs and Monroe descended. He wore no coat or vest and was evidently prepared for bed when disturbed.

"What's all the row about?" he asked, yawning. "Oh, are you in it, Colonel?"

There was a slight pause before McVeigh said:

"Captain Monroe, the row is over for the present, since your confederate has escaped."

"My--confederate?"

He glanced in inquiry from one to the other, but could see no friendliness in their faces. Delaven looked as puzzled as himself, but the other three regarded him coldly. He tossed his half finished cigar out of the door, and seemed to grow taller, as he turned toward them again.

"May I ask in what way I am linked with a confederacy."

"In using your parole to gain knowledge of our army for the use of the Federal government," answered McVeigh, bluntly.

Monroe made a step forward, but halted, drew a long breath, and thrust his uninjured hand into his pocket, as if to hamper its aggressive tendencies.

"Is it considered a part of Southern hospitality that the host reserves the right to insult his guests?" he asked slowly. Masterson's face flushed with anger at the sweeping suggestion, but McVeigh glanced at him warningly.

"This is not a time for useless words, Captain Monroe, and it seems useless to discuss the rights of the hospitality you have outraged."

"That is not true, Colonel McVeigh," and his tones were very steady as he made the denial. His very steadiness and cool selfcontrol angered McVeigh, who had hoped to see him astonished, indignant, natural.

"Not true?" he demanded. "Is it not true that you were received here as a friend, welcomed as a brother? That you listened this morning when those military dispatches reached me? That you heard me say they were very important? That as soon as they were stolen from my room tonight you announced that you could not prolong your stay, your object in coming having evidently been accomplished? Is it not true that today you managed to divert suspicion from yourself to an innocent lady? The authorities were evidently right who had that sailor followed here; but unknown to her it was not his employer he came here to meet, but _you_, his confederate! He was only the messenger, while you were the real spy--the officer who has broken his parole of honor."

Monroe had listened with set teeth to the accusation, a certain doggedness in his expression as the list of his delinquencies were reviewed, but at the final sentence the clenched hand shot forward and he struck McVeigh a wicked blow, staggering him back against the wall.

"You are a liar and a fool, Colonel McVeigh," he said in a choked voice, his face white with anger.

The Judge and Masterson interposed as McVeigh lunged forward at him, and then he controlled his voice enough to say, "Captain Monroe, you are under arrest."

And the commotion and deep breathing of the men prevented them hearing the soft rustle of a woman's dress in the hall as Judithe slipped away into the darkness of the sitting room, and thence up the back stairs.

She had followed Monroe as he pa.s.sed her door. She heard all their words, and the final ones: "_Captain Monroe, you are under arrest!_"

rang in her ears all night as she tossed sleepless in the darkness.

That is what Kenneth McVeigh would say to her if he knew the truth.