# My Lady of the South/Chapter 17

CHAPTER XVII
THE TABLES TURNED
WE realized the truth, all of us at the same moment, yet were unable to grasp, comprehend its full significance, staring first at the dead man, and then into one another's faces in a bewilderment beyond expression. To me it came like a fresh accusation, a new link in the chain binding me. Dead! killed in the same manner, and by the same hand which had stricken down Navarre! How had it been done? When had it been done? Was this man dead all the hours we sat n the hall yonder, or had the assassin stolen past us in the darkness, and committed the crime while we watched? I had not slept: I could have sworn to that; more, the posture of the Judge was the same as when I first glanced in at him through the open door. I saw the girl drop upon her knees, burying her face upon the nearest chair; then Donald, with lips firm set and white face, lifted the emaciated form tenderly, crossed the room with it in his arms, and placed it outstretched upon the sofa. For a moment of silence he stood there motionless, gazing down upon the ghastly countenance, his shoulders bent, his giant form casting a shapeless shadow upon the wall. Then he turned, and looked me sternly, searchingly in the eyes.
"What have you to say to this?" he questioned ​bluntly, pointing with one hand back at the body. "If you have been on guard, sir, how could this have happened?"
"The deed must have been done before I was released. When first I looked in here Judge Dunn rested in the same position in which you found him."
"Neither of you came into the room?"
"No; not so as to approach the table. Miss Denslow thought the sight of me would arouse his anger."
She lifted her head, looking up at us from where she still knelt, tears shining on her long lashes.
"I came in after the revolver belt," she said, her voice trembling, "but Lieutenant King did not even enter the room."
Donald's form straightened, his voice gruffer than I remembered hearing it before.
"But you were asleep, Jean, when I came down the stairs. Lieutenant King had left his chair, and was in the front of the hall."
I took a deep breath, realizing afresh the peril of my position, the weakness of my defence. The girl spoke, pleadingly, brokenly.
"But he could not have done this; Lieutenant King could not have done this. The thought is impossible. He is not a murderer, but a soldier."
Donald stood between us, erect, motionless, his lips firmly set, his eyes upon mine.
"I do not know what to think, Jean." he said with a grave deliberateness, "I only know every circumstance points to this man, and leaves no doubt as to my own ​duty. If Lieutenant King can clear himself I will be first to take his hand." His fingers dropped to the butt of his revolver. "You are my prisoner; unclasp your belt."
He had not drawn his weapon, yet he might as well have had it pointed at my head, as the slightest hostile movement on my part would have been met instantly. Yet I stood motionless, speechless, with hands as numb as my brain, staring into his face which was as stern and unemotional as marble.
"You hear me, sir; unclasp your belt."
"But," I stammered, "I am—"
The girl came between us, her face uplifted, her eyes shining.
"Lieutenant King is my prisoner, not yours," she cried indignantly. "He gave me his parole, and I returned to him his revolvers. He will keep his word to me."
She held out her hands, and, scarcely realizing what I did, impelled to action by the expression of her face, I unclasped the belt, and extended it to her. With the action my calmness seemed to return, my brain cleared.
"Miss Denslow is right," I said quietly, "I am her prisoner on parole, and I keep my pledge to her."
Great as the sacrifice was, the quick flash of her eyes repaid me fully, and I looked beyond her shoulder into Colonel Donald's stern-set face.
"I am helpless to resist, for you are armed and I am not," I said firmly, "but I appeal to you as a soldier to deal fairly with me. I pledge you my word not to attempt an escape, but I wish the privilege of searching the house for evidence to clear me of this charge of murder. You ​are an honorable man; give me an opportunity to prove that I am one also."
He scarcely hesitated.
"And if you fail you will accompany me to the Confederate lines without resistance?"
"Yes; whether I succeed or fail, I am a prisoner of war. I understand that clearly; but I am not a murderer."
It is hard to say what influence worked with me, but the stern lines of Donald's face relaxed, his hand falling to his side.
"Lieutenant King," he acknowledged quietly, "it seems impossible for me not to believe you. I have always felt I was a judge of men, and I am going to trust you now Perhaps it is for your sake, and perhaps it is because I feel Jean wishes me to—"
"I do wish it," she interposed softly.
"That is easily seen; you shall have your wish, and Lieutenant King his opportunity. How do you propose proceeding?"
I hesitated, my eyes upon both faces
"I am informed," I began finally, "that this house contains a hidden room, and a secret passage leading without."
The Colonel's glance dropped to the face of the girl.
"You little traitress!"
"Don't say that," the depths of the gray-blue eyes dark with indignation. "I told him that because I trusted him, and believed he ought to know what I suspected."
​"But who told you?"
"Calvert Dunn; but that was all he told—merely that such things existed."
"Even that was enough to ruin their usefulness when repeated to a Yankee. I am surprised at you, Jean."
"Miss Denslow gave me no information of value," I hastened to explain. "The mere knowledge that such a place exists means nothing so long as I am unable to trace it. I have asked her nothing, but I do ask you—is there such a hidden entry, such a secret room, and may I search them?"
The man and the soldier seemed warring in his mind before he could reply, but the man won.
"Yes, they exist; built with the house, for protection against feudists, and with no thought of war. But they can be of no service to you, as I came that way entering the house and met no one."
"You bore a light?"
"No; the passage is a familiar one."
"Yet you might have passed some one skulking there in the dark; some one who may have left behind evidence of his presence. It seems to me, Colonel Donald, that is where we should look; that justice to me demands such investigation."
"But how could any one who is an enemy to the occupants of this house have discovered the passage?"
"That I do not know, but some one has certainly been here to-night. Whoever it was, he came by way of none of the ordinary entrances. You must acknowledge that. If I am not the guilty man, and I swear in the presence of ​God I am not, then the assassin must have come by the way of the secret passage. He may have found it by accident, but it has served his purpose, and a search of it might give us his trail. I plead with you for this opportunity to vindicate myself."
What he saw in the countenance of the girl, as his eyes fell from mine to her face, I cannot tell, but his expression softened perceptibly, a slight smile curling his lips.
"You have an advocate here. Lieutenant, who does not need to speak in order to influence me. I would not be justified in conducting you through this passage in person. The secret is mine merely in trust, but I will deal fairly with you. I have accepted your parole, and am going to leave you here with Jean, while I take a light and make a careful exploration. Is this satisfactory?"
I bowed in silence, fully aware I had no right to expect more. He stepped back, drew an afghan up over the motionless body lying on the lounge, and advanced to the door.
"You will not attempt to leave this room until I return," he said, pausing to glance back at us.
"I will not, Colonel Donald."
"I may be doing wrong," he admitted, as if arguing the matter with himself, "but I seem to have imbibed some of Jean's faith."
We heard his steps in the hall; then our ears followed his movements as he went up the stairs. Our eyes met.
"Your confidence in me is more than I have any right to expect," I ventured, feeling I must speak.
"Perhaps it is woman's intuition," she replied quietly, ​"although in his heart I believe Colonel Donald is equally convinced of your innocence. Had he not been he would never have left you alone to my guarding."
"He is a strong man, mentally and physically; I don't think I ever saw a nobler face. It's difficult for me to think of him as a leader of guerillas."
"Nor is he, in the sense you mean. He commands irregulars, it is true, but he is doing a real service for the Confederacy, and protecting life and property in this region. No man could be more humane, more merciful. Yet he has done you Yankees greater harm than some division commanders."
"You are evidently a good friend to Colonel Donald."
"I am more than that," soberly, her eyes on mine, "I am nearer to him than any one else."
She made the confession as though it were the most natural thing in the world, without embarrassment. It was true, then, as I had suspected, her love for Donald was the real obstacle between her and Calvert Dunn. It was because of this also that she could treat me with such easy comradeship as to cause me to dream dreams. Plain as the revelation appeared I must have it yet more direct in statement. I could not yield the hopes I had begun to cherish until her own lips made such yielding imperative.
"I do not understand, Miss Denslow," the feeling in my voice rendering it tremulous, "this relationship between you and Colonel Donald?"
​Her eyes uplifted to mine, frankly puzzled by my question, yet with no purpose to avoid an answer.
"Nor can I explain to you, a stranger. Indeed I may have said too much already. But what is that?"
There was no doubt as to what it was—the pounding of horses' hoofs on the ash-hardened driveway without. Young Dunn, no doubt, with a squad of Confederate troopers, come to carry me off as prisoner. The same thought was in both our minds, yet we remained speechless, motionless, until some one began pounding at the front door. I was ﬁrst to ﬁnd my voice.
"I am a prisoner; you had better ask what they want."
She advanced to the door, calling through the wood to the impatient man without.
"What is it? Who are you?"
"A squadron of Federal cavalry; open the door before we break it down."
She shrank back, gasping as though for breath, her hands pressed against her heart, and I caught her arm thinking she would fall. With the ﬁrst throb of delight, I made my own decision.
"Don't fear, Miss Denslow; let me treat with them." I whispered swiftly. "I will not betray you. Run upstairs to him, and remain quiet until we ride away."
Her eyes, bright with gratitude, ﬂashed into mine; I felt the pressure of her hand, and the next instant she was ﬂying up the steps, casting one swift glance backward as she disappeared. Again the man without hammered at the door, this time with the butt of a carbine. I flung ​it wide open, and faced him. My first glance fell upon a cavalry sergeant, a stockily built fellow with a bristling moustache, who took a hasty step back, at my sudden appearance, his carbine thrust viciously forward. Before either of us could speak a voice exclaimed from the darkness,—
"Begorra, but it's the Leftenant hisself!"
I stepped out of the light, dimly perceiving a group of men and horses below, with an indistinct smudge of forms on the veranda.
"Was that you spoke, O'Brien?" I questioned sharply.
"It's niver a wan else," and he thrust himself toward me, his round, impudent face becoming visible, "an' damned glad I am to foind ye well an' hearty, sor."
"Yes, I am all right; have passed through a bit of a rough time, but am unharmed. Who have you with you?"
"A squad of the Third Ohio, sor. They was the first blue-coats I came across when I sthruck the loines."
I took a long breath, my heart beating rapidly.
"What has become of Daniels?" I asked, peering into his face.
"Well, I don't exactly know, sor. After we'd hunted for you for about three hours or more, we decided you must have got into some sort of a trap, an' the two of us rode back to the loines so soon as it was dark enough to travel. We got word in to Rosy, an' he ordered Daniels to headquarters, an' sent me out huntin' you. That's the last I saw of Bill."
​"He was with you, then, all the time until you got back to the lines?"
"He never got twinty feet away, sor."
I stood staring at him, more puzzled and perplexed than ever. It was not Daniels, then: not Daniels. I glanced back into the lighted hall, oppressed by the mystery, all my previous theories shattered. The sergeant broke in, anxious to expedite matters.
"I'd like to have the straight of this thing, sir, and get my men back into camp. Is there anything to be done here?"
"No; there are only two women in the house," I replied, making up my mind quickly what I should tell. "When I ﬁrst got in here Big Donald and two other Confederate ofﬁcers were present, and I was made captive by a trick. Later I was left under guard of the women while the men went after a squad to take me into the Rebel lines. In the meanwhile there were some strange happenings here: two men were mysteriously killed."
"Killed? How?"
"By a knife thrust in the throat. In fear for their own lives the ladies released me, but we have searched the house without ﬁnding trace of the murderer. One body was removed, but the other lies yonder in the library."
The sergeant stared at me. as though scarcely comprehending my words, while O'Brien's eyes were on the lighted hall.
"That's a queer sort of a yarn, sir."
"Ay, it is, sergeant, and the more you know of the details the queerer it gets."
​I was outside on the porch, my eyes by this time somewhat accustomed to the darkness. The sergeant and O'Brien were facing me, while a number of the troopers had left their horses to he held by comrades, and were grouped together on the lower steps, the rays of the hall light illuminating their faces. I could perceive the sweep of the ash-covered driveway, the thick fringe of bushes beyond. Suddenly they turned to flame before my eyes; there was a roar, a blaze of light, a rearing of horses, the stamping of hoofs, a wild shriek, frightened voices yelling, strangely distorted forms outlined in the glare. I saw the group on the steps fall apart as if cleaved by a tongue of flame; O'Brien leaped back into the shadow, and the sergeant fell like a stone, striking me as he went down and driving me back against the frame of the door. An instant I was dazed, stupefied. Then I heard the mad yell of the Confederacy, and knew the truth. We were attacked, ambushed, routed; our only hope the getting under cover.
"To the house, men, the house!" I shouted, my voice louder than the tumult. "Leave your horses, and make for the house!"
They came with the rush of terror, leaping, stumbling up the steps, and struggling into the hall. How many came, how many remained behind, I could not tell; two fell on the porch, and one, still living but helpless blocked the doorway. There was a crash of shots, a smudge of figures below; O'Brien grasped the fellow and flung him within, and I slammed the door, sliding the heavy bolt into its socket.