CHAPTER VIII
THE COMING OF THE ENEMY
No matter how charming she may be, a man can never enjoy being outplayedat his own game by a woman. The piquant face fronting me swam in a mistas a sudden rush of anger swept from me all admiration. I had beenplayed with, outwitted from the start, every movement checkmated--evennow she was actually laughing at my helplessness. My first wild impulsewas to spring forward, and wrest the revolver from her hand; yet therewas that in her attitude, in the expression of her eyes, which made mehesitate. Would she shoot? Would the sense of duty to her cause actuallyinduce her to fire at me? A moment before, I should not have deemed itpossible, but now, it seemed to me, she was desperate enough to do eventhis. And that was a hair-trigger she fingered so recklessly! Instead ofleaping forward, I stood motionless, outwardly cool, yet with everynerve throbbing. She read all this in my face, no doubt, for her lipshalf smiled, her manner exhibited confidence.
"Oh, I can shoot," she said pleasantly enough, "so I wouldn't try thatif I were you. Now will you do exactly as I say?"
I remained silent, my hands clinched. So this was the gentle creature Ihad been riding with, had even been falling in love with! This woman,now threatening me with death, was the same happy-hearted, laughing girlwhose hand I had held, and to whom I had talked in words of friendship.I could scarcely realize the change, or comprehend this new developmentof character.
The unpleasant situation was broken by the sound of steps in the hall.The door opened, and Judge Moran entered. Miss Hardy stepped instantlyaside, concealing the revolver within the folds of her skirt, yet withwatchful eyes on my face. Moran glanced at us both without suspicion,and approached me with outstretched hand.
"Captain Le Gaire explained to me who you are, Major," he said with newcordiality, "and I am very glad to receive you as my guest. Are you oneof the Mobile Athertons?"
"No," I answered, flushing, and avoiding her amused eyes, yet not daringto blurt out the truth, "I come from farther north."
"Exactly; I recall now there are Athertons in Memphis and Nashville,delightful people, the real, old Southern stock. I regret greatly tolearn from Le Gaire that duty compels you to leave at once."
"Major Atherton has changed his plans," broke in the girl, before Icould respond. "The advance of Beauregard's forces makes it safer forhim to remain quiet for a few hours,--until night comes. I was justsuggesting that he go up to the red room and lie down--he is nearly deadfrom fatigue."
"The red room!" in surprise. "Surely you jest, Miss Willifred! That ishardly considered a guest chamber."
"No; but the safest place in the house, if, by any chance, it issearched by a scouting party."
The old gentleman nodded, as if in approval.
"Possibly it would be safer, although I hardly anticipate any such callsfrom the enemy with our own people so near. You will not be the firstConfederate to lie hidden there, sir," with a bow to me, and a quickglance toward the smiling girl. "Would you mind showing him the way, mydear?--it is becoming difficult for me to mount the stairs."
"With pleasure; indeed, I was about to propose doing so. Major, you willgo first, please."
However cheerily these words were spoken I understood their quietthreat, and the full meaning of that motionless hand held securelyhidden behind the fold of her skirt. She opened the door into the hall,and, with one questioning glance into her eyes, I murmured a word ofthanks to the unsuspecting judge, and passed slowly through. Miss Hardyfollowed, closing the door behind her, the revolver now held inplain view.
"Up the stairs, and turn to the left," she commanded briefly.
The short, stern, business-like tone in which this order was utteredmight have been amusing under other conditions, but scarcely so thenwhen I was smarting under defeat. I glanced back, half tempted toendeavor a sudden leap; yet she was fully prepared, and I hesitated.Would she actually shoot me down? Could it be possible the girl wouldtake my life? I could scarcely conceive of such a probability, sheseemed so womanly in every way, so light-hearted, and yet there was nolaugh now in her eyes, no lack of determination in the firm settingof her lips.
"Suppose I refuse!"
"I sincerely hope you will not, Lieutenant. This is hard enough for me;don't make it any harder."
There could be no doubting what she meant, nor what she had nervedherself to accomplish. Feeling like a whipped cur I went slowly up thebroad stairs, my hand on the banister rail, and she followed, keepingeven pace with me, the cocked Colt pointing sternly upward at my back.
"The last door--yes, beyond the chimney. Step inside, LieutenantGalesworth. Now close the door."
I stood, with fingers still grasping the knob, listening. There was aclick, as though a heavy key was being turned in the lock, and thenwithdrawn. Following I heard her quick breath of relief, and ahalf-suppressed sob. The sound made her seem all woman again.
"Miss Hardy!" I called, my lips at the crack of the door.
"What is it?" the answering voice tremulous.
"I want to tell you that you are a brave girl, and that I do not in theleast blame you."
There was a moment's hesitating silence, as though my unexpected wordshad left her speechless. Her breathing told me her lips were also closeto the door.
"I--I am so glad you said that," she returned at last. "This--this hasbeen so difficult to do. But you know I mean to do it, to hold you here;you realize I am terribly in earnest?"
"Yes--but for how long?"
"Until late to-night; then you can do us no deep injury." Her voicebecame firmer. "I shall remain on guard here."
I heard her move away from the direct neighborhood of the door, hersteps sounding distinctly on the polished floor. Then something heavy,probably a chair or bench, was drawn forward, following which all wassilence. Although I could see nothing the situation in the hall wasclear. Confident escape was impossible in any other direction thedetermined girl had taken up her position opposite the door, preparedfor a long vigil. All feeling of anger, even of irritation, had by thistime left me. The slight falter, the womanly softness of her voice, hadrobbed me of all resentment, and I was conscious merely of admirationfor her courage and loyalty. But I desired intently to stand equallyhigh in her memory, and in order to do so must exhibit my own wit, myown resources in emergency. I felt the door--it was of solid oak, withno spot of weakness evident, even the key-hole being concealed by ametal flap on the outside. The room itself was small, the walls tintedred, and contained no furniture except a narrow bed and onestraight-backed chair. Light was admitted through a small window, placedso high in the wall I was compelled to stand on the chair to look out, amere round opening through which it would be impossible to squeeze myrather stalwart body. It was almost a typical prison cell, apparentlyaffording not the slightest opportunity for escape. I had a pipe in mypocket, and matches, so I lit up, and lay back on the bed, reviewing thesituation.
I am not of the disposition which surrenders easily, and my longexperience as a scout had inured me to difficult ventures. Almostinvariably there are means of escape, if one is fortunate enough todiscover the point of weakness and possesses sufficient time in which towork. Yet as I lay there, my eyes anxiously scanning those bare, solidwalls, my brain working coolly, the problem appeared unsolvable. Thedoor, of hard-wood, fitting tightly into the jambs, washopeless,--particularly with Billie outside, loaded revolver in hand,nerved to the shooting point. I climbed again to the window, but thecasing was solidly spiked into position, and I could barely press myhead through the aperture into the open air. It was a thirty-foot sheerdrop to the hard gravel of the road beneath, the nearest tree limb adozen feet distant, with the roof edge far beyond reach of the hand. Isat down in the chair, the blue smoke curling overhead, floating out thewindow, my eyes studying the red-tinted side walls, as I endeavored torecall each detail of the house's architecture, and the exact locationof this particular room.
I had turned to the left at the head of the stairway, passing by atleast three doors. Then the
re had occurred a slight jog in the hall,making room for a large chimney, while just beyond opened this door. Itwas not even visible from the front of the house, and would probably bethe rearmost apartment--no, that was wrong; the hallway, much contractedin width, continued on into the ell. This was quite likely the first ofthe servants' quarters, and that east wall must abut directly againstthe chimney. With a new degree of hopefulness, I pushed aside the bed,and began testing the wall space with my knuckles. If any chimney wasthere, the stones were protected by wooden casing, which, covered by thered paper, was effectively concealed. I was about to abandon the searchwhen a finger penetrated the paper, revealing a round opening--a pipehole, left uncovered except for the wallpaper. I wrenched out the tinprotector, and felt within. The chimney had apparently never been used,the interior being clear of soot, and was built of a single layer ofstone, Southern fashion, the irregular fragments mortared together, andplastered smoothly on the inside. Without was a thin, narrow planking,dove-tailed, but secured by nails only at the four corners. This couldbe easily pried away, leaving the chimney itself open to attack. I couldnot reach far enough within to touch the opposite wall, but wasconvinced the space would prove sufficiently large to admit my body.With a knife I tested the resistance of the mortar, breaking the pointof the blade, yet detaching quite a chunk, and wrenching out one smallstone. Beyond doubt the task might be accomplished--but what was below?How was I to get down those smoothly plastered walls--and back again, ifnecessary?
I glanced at my watch; it was already nearing noon, and at any momentfood might be brought me. I must wait until after that; then I shouldprobably remain undisturbed for several hours. I shoved back the bed insuch position its head-board completely concealed the slight excavation,and sat down upon it, planning anew how best to proceed. The time passedwith no unusual sound reaching me from the hall without. Billieevidently felt no desire to acquaint Judge Moran with my real identity,and perhaps would thus experience some difficulty in procuring mefood,--possibly would make no effort even until night. I succeeded inpushing aside the flap over the key-hole, without making any alarmingnoise, and applied one eye to the aperture. There was little to beseen--merely the end of a bench, and a pair of bare, black feet. Thejudge's sole remaining servitor doubtless, doing a turn at guard duty.As I gazed, some outside noise aroused him, and he went softlypattering down the hall.
The same sound startled me also, and I dropped the flap, clambering uponthe chair so as to see without. It was a hundred feet to the main road,mostly velvety turf between, with a few trees partially obscuring theview. Yet I could see clearly enough, and up the pike leading throughthe village, half hidden by a cloud of dust, was advancing a regiment ofcavalry, their flags draped, their horses walking in double column. Asthese swung into the straight road, a battery of artillery followed,gray-jacketed fellows, Confederates--Beauregard's advance.
Love under Fire Page 8
