Love under Fire

by Randall Parrish

  CHAPTER XXXV

  THE DEAD MAN

  The match flared out, burning Miles' fingers so he dropped it stillglowing on the floor. We could yet distinguish dimly the outlines of theman's form at our feet, and I heard Billie come down the stairs behindus. There was no other sound, except our breathing.

  "Strike another, Sergeant," I commanded, surprised by the sound of myown voice, "and we'll see who the fellow is."

  He experienced difficulty making it light, but at last the tiny blazeillumined the spot where we stood. I bent over, dreading the task, andturned the dead man's face up to the flare. He was a man of middle age,wearing a closely trimmed chin beard. I failed to recognize thecountenance, and glanced up questioningly at Miles just as he uttered anexclamation of surprise.

  "It's one of Mahoney's fellows, sir," he asserted sharply. "Burke's thename."

  "Then he couldn't possibly be the same man Miss Hardy saw up stairsthat first time."

  "No, sir, this don't help none to clear that affair up. But it's Burkeall right, an' he's had a knife driven through his heart. What do youever suppose he could 'a' been doin' down here?"

  "Where was he stationed?"

  "He was with me till that last shindy started; then when you called formore men in the kitchen I sent him an' Flynn out there."

  Miles lit a third match, and I looked about striving to piece togetherthe evidence. I began to think I understood something of what hadoccurred. This soldier, Burke, was a victim, not an assailant. He laywith his hand still clasping the bar which had locked the door. He hadbeen stabbed without warning, and whoever did the deed had escaped overthe dead body. I stepped back to where I could see the full length ofthe cellar; the trap door leading up into the kitchen stood wide open.Convinced this must be the way Burke had come down, I walked over to thenarrow stairs, and thrust my head up through the opening. There were sixmen in the room, and they stared at me in startled surprise, but cameinstantly to their feet.

  "When did Burke go down cellar?" I asked briefly.

  The man nearest turned to his fellows, and then back toward me, feelingcompelled to answer.

  "'Bout ten minutes ago, wasn't it, boys?"

  "Not mor 'n that, sir."

  "What was he after?"

  "Well, we got sorter dry after that las' scrimmage, an' Jack here saidhe reckoned thar'd be something ter drink down stairs; he contended thatmost o' these yer ol' houses had plenty o' good stuff hid away. FinallyBurke volunteered to go down, an' see what he could find. We was waitin'fer him to com' back. What's happened ter Burke, sir?"

  "Knifed."

  "Killed! Burke killed! Who did it?"

  "That is exactly what I should like to find out. There is some one inthis house masquerading in our uniform who must be insane. He killed aConfederate captain this morning, crushed in his skull with a revolverbutt, and now he has put a knife into Burke. Has any one come upthese steps?"

  "Not a one, sir."

  "And I was at the head of the other stairs. Then he is hiding in thecellar yet."

  Suddenly I remembered that Billie was below exposed to danger; in thatsemi-darkness the murderous villain might creep upon her unobserved.The thought sent a cold chill to my heart, and I sprang down again tothe stone floor.

  "Three of you come down, and bring up the body," I called back. "Thenwe'll hunt the devil."

  She had not left the lower step of the front stairs, but caught my handsas though the darkness, the dread uncertainty, had robbed her ofall reserve.

  "What is it?" she asked. "I do not understand what has happened."

  "The man you locked up has escaped," I explained, holding her tightly tome, the very trembling of her figure yielding me courage. "I haven't theentire story, but this must be the way of it: One of the men on duty inthe kitchen came down here hunting for liquor. Either the prisonercalled to him, and got him to open the door, or else he took down thebar while searching. Anyway we found the door ajar, and thesoldier dead."

  "Then--then the--the other one is down here somewhere still," coweringcloser against me, and staring about through the gloom. "Who--who arethose men?"

  "Soldiers coming for Burke's body--he was the trooper killed. Don't beafraid, dear--I am here with you now."

  "Oh, I know; I would not be frightened, only it is all so horrible. Iam never afraid when I can see and understand what the danger is. You donot believe me a silly girl?"

  "You are the one woman of my heart, Billie," I whispered, bending untilmy lips brushed her ear. "Don't draw away, little girl. This is no timeto say such things, I know, but all our life together has been underfire. It is danger which has brought us to each other."

  "Oh, please, please don't."

  "Why? Are you not willing to hear me say 'I love you'?"

  Her eyes lifted to mine for just an instant, and I felt the softpressure of her hand.

  "Not now; not here," and she drew away from me slightly. "You cannotunderstand, but I feel as though I had no right to love. I bringmisfortune to every one. I cannot help thinking of Captain Le Gaire, andit seems as if his death was all my fault. I cannot bear to have you saythat now, here," and she shuddered. "When we do not even know how he waskilled, or who killed him. It is not because I do not care, not that Iam indifferent. I hardly know myself."

  "Billie," I broke in, "I do understand far better than you suppose. Thisaffair tests us both. But, dear, I do not know what five minutes maybring. We shall be attacked again; I expect the alarm every instant, andI may not come out alive. I must know first that you love me--know itfrom your own lips."

  She was silent, it seemed to me a long, long while. The three soldierswent by carrying the dead body, and Miles came to the foot of thestairs, saw us, and passed along without speaking. Outside was the dull,continuous roar of musketry, mingled with an occasional yell. Then sheheld out both hands, and looked me frankly in the face.

  "I am going to be honest," she said softly. "I have loved you ever sincewe were at Jonesboro; I--love you now."

  I knew this before she spoke; had known it almost from the beginning,and yet her words, the message of her uplifted eyes, gave me a newconception of all love meant. A moment I gazed into the blue-gray depthswhere her heart was revealed, and then my arms were about her, and ourlips met. Surely no one ever received the gift of love in strangersituation. On the stairs leading down into that gloomy cellar where amurderer hid, his victim borne past as we talked; all about us silenceand gloom hiding a mysterious crime; above us the heavy feet of mentreading the echoing floor, and without the ceaseless roar of battle,volleying musketry, and hoarse shouting. Yet it was all forgotten--thefierce fighting of the past, the passions of war, the sudden death, thesurrounding peril--and we knew only we were together, alone, the wordsof love upon our lips. I felt the pressure of her arms, and crushed herto me, every nerve throbbing with delight.

  "Sweetheart, sweetheart," I whispered, "you have kept me in doubt solong."

  "It has only been because I also doubted," she answered,--"not my love,but my right to love. To a Hardy honor is everything, and I was bound byhonor. Dear, could you ever think a uniform made any difference?--it isthe man I love." She drew gently back, holding me from her, and yet oureyes met. "But we must not remain here, thinking only of ourselves, whenthere is so much to be done. Remember what is down there, and whatscenes of horror surround us. You have work to do."

  The way in which she spoke aroused me as from a dream, yet with aquestion upon my lips.

  "Yes," I said, "and we are in midst of war--in this are we yet enemies?"

  "I am a Southerner," smiling softly, "and I hope the South wins. Myfather is out yonder fighting, if he be not already down, and I would domy best to serve his cause. Do you care for me less because Iconfess this?"

  "No."

  "But now," she went on, more softly still, her words barely audible, "myheart is with you here; with you, because I love you."

  We both glanced up swiftly, startled by the sound of heavy steps in theupper h
all. A man's head was thrust through the half-opened door at thetop of the stairs. Apparently he could not see any distance through thegloom, and I hailed him, although still retaining my clasp of thegirl's hand.

  "What is it, my man?"

  "Sergeant Mahoney told me to find the lieutenant."

  "Well, you have; I am the one sought. What's happening?"

  "They're a-comin', sorr," his voice hoarse with excitement, and wavingone hand toward the front of the house, "an' thar's goin' ter be hellter pay this toime"

  "You mean the gray-backs? From the front? What force?"

  "Domn'd if Oi know; Oi wasn't seein' out thar--the sergeant told me."

  I could not leave Billie down there alone, nor the door open. Whoeverthe crazed assassin was, he must still remain somewhere in the cellar,watching for an opportunity to escape. But I was needed above to directthe defence. It seemed to me I thought of a thousand things in aninstant,--of my desire to clear up the mystery, of my orders to hold thehouse, of Willifred Hardy's danger,--and I had but the one instant inwhich to decide. The next I made my choice, at least until I coulddiscover the exact situation for myself.

  "Come," I said soberly.

  I closed the door, and faced the trooper.

  "You remain here with the lady. Don't leave her for a moment except as Iorder. Keep your revolver drawn, and your eyes on that door. Do youunderstand?"

  "Oi do, sorr."

  "She will explain what you are to guard against. I'll be back to you ina moment, Billie."

  I caught one glimpse out through the south windows as I passed the doorof the dining-room--moving troops covered the distance, half concealedunder clouds of smoke, but none were facing toward us. On the floor,behind the barricades, a dozen of my men were peering out along thebrown carbine barrels, eager and expectant, cartridges piled besidethem on the floor. At the front door I encountered Mahoney, so excitedhe could hardly talk.

  "What is it?" I questioned swiftly. "An attack in front?"

  "It's the big guns, sorr; be gorry, they're goin' to shell us out, an'whar the hell was them reinforcemints, Oi'd loike to know!"

  "So would I. If it's artillery we may as well hoist a white flag. Here,my lad, let me look."

  A glance was sufficient. Just within the gate, barely beyond reach ofour weapons, with a clear stretch of lawn between, was a battery of fourguns, already in position, the caissons at the rear, the cannoneerspointing the muzzles. Back of these grim dogs was a supporting column ofinfantry, leaning on their muskets. There was no doubting what wasmeant. Angered by loss, Chambers had dragged these commands out of thebattle to wipe us clean. He was taking no more chances--now he wouldblow the house into bits, and bury us in the ruins. What should I do?What ought I to do? The entire burden of decision was mine. Must Isacrifice these men who had already fought so desperately? Should Iexpose Billie to almost certain death? Surely we had done our full duty;we had held the house for hours, driving back two fierce assaults. Thefault was not ours, but those laggards out yonder. I would tell Mahoneyand Miles I was going to put out a white flag; that further resistancewas useless. Miles! With remembrance of the name I recalled where theman was--down below searching for the murderer. I sprang back, passingBillie and her guard, and flung open the door.

  "Miles," I cried into the silent darkness, "we need you up here atonce."

  There was just a moment of tense waiting, and then a gruff voicesounding afar off,

  "I can't, sir, I've got him."