# My Lady of the South/Chapter 11

CHAPTER XI
AN EFFORT TO ESCAPE
FOR the first moment I doubted everything; it must be some mistake; a sudden gust of wind had slammed the door shut. I could not conceive this as the deliberate act of Jean Denslow. I even called her name, believing she would hasten to release me. But there was no response, no sound of any kind from without, and the truth came, forcing itself upon me, that I had been deliberately deceived, treacherously imprisoned. The knowledge cf the girl's deceit hurt me more at first than my own physical condition. I had been hoping for something better; even dreaming that she manifested an interest in me despite my uniform. But now all this was rudely shattered. Yet how could I justly blame her? She had merely performed what she considered a duty, and I had blindly walked into the trap. That I had been a fool was surely no fault of hers. Even as I hammered away on the oaken door there came to me a glimmering of her motives, a respect for her action. I was nothing to her mind; merely an inquisitive Yankee officer searching for one she knew, one she felt obligated to protect. The man might even be concealed within the house; or if not, some clue leading to his whereabouts was to be discovered there. If this was true then the girl had ​done right to trap me, to lead me on, to make me prisoner. She had pretended no interest in me: she had not led me into this by any miserable deceit; she was in no way to be blamed because I imagined her flushed checks and downcast eyes meant something other than they did. No doubt she was laughing at me now, and I hated the thought of that, yet she had fairly outwitted me, and I deserved the ridicule for proving such a fool.
I stopped my senseless battering at the door, searching the floor for the match case dropped in my first excitement, and then, as a match flared yellow, I glanced about at my prison. It was a square room of medium size, the walls and ceiling of polished oak, a few pieces of furniture piled in one corner, a boarded-up fireplace opposite with mantel above, and a single window, tightly closed by an outside shutter. I struck match after match examining everything carefully, yet this was the sum total of my discoveries; there was no way out, and the fact that not the slightest sound reached me suggested an unusual thickness of walls. A bit unnerved, I found a chair which would sustain my weight, and sat down, endeavoring to think. But in truth there was little enough to reflect over under those circumstances. No regret could aid me, and any attempt at planning seemed equally valueless. So far as I could determine I was helpless, and could only await, as patiently as possible, the will of my captors. Indeed, the longer I considered the conditions the less I feared the results. I could hardly have been thus imprisoned with any serious intention of delivering me over to the Confederate authorities, or even to the tender ​mercies of the mountain guerillas. Believing I had a force of men close at hand, these people would expect swift reparation for such an act, even the destruction of their home. Probably I should be held merely long enough for them to prepare better for a search of the house, and then set free with profuse apology. Satisfied in my own mind that this would be the outcome, I lit my pipe and settled back in the chair, endeavoring to become as comfortable as possible.
Yet as time passed—a long time it seemed to me in that black silence—restlessness and doubt overcame my earlier philosophy. I grew hungry, but there was no turning of the lock, no thrusting in of food through the partly opened door. My captors knew I was armed, and beyond doubt feared I would make a desperate break for liberty at the slightest opportunity. But how long was this to continue? Surely several hours had already passed, ample time in which to clear the premises of all incriminating evidence. The silence and darkness combined to irritate my nerves: to make moments appear endless. I began to have other suspicions, to lose my faith even in Jean Denslow. Black as was that interior I was still able to pace restlessly back and forth in the cleared space extending from wall to wall timing my steps until I knew exactly when to turn. Once I wheeled about a trifle to the right of the straight course, and a board rasped slightly beneath the weight of my foot. I stopped instantly at the sound, dropping upon my knees to feel with my fingers along the smooth surface. There was not much to encourage—a single strip of flooring, slightly warped at the ​joint. Scarcely hoping for any practical result, but merely to occupy time, I began digging out the dirt which had become packed hard in the narrow space, and even succeeded in splitting off a sliver from the plank itself. This afforded purchase for my fingers, and after what must have been a full half-hour of diligent effort, I got a broken chair leg wedged into the orifice in such a manner as to utilize it as a lever.
I was bending over this crude contrivance, fearful to exercise my strength lest the sharp snap of the board might sound an alarm, when suddenly the door was unlocked, opened hastily a foot or two, and something slid forward along the floor. I sprang to my feet, staring in the direction of the sound, but the door was as quickly swung shut, and I had perceived no reflection of daylight from the hall beyond. Could it be night already? I lit a match, locating a plate heaped with food, and a small pot of smoking hot coffee on the floor, and took a glance at my watch. Eight-thirty; I had been imprisoned all of ten hours! Why, I must have slept, although I had no recollection of having done so. Ten hours; then surely I was not being held merely to let others escape; there was something much more serious than I had hitherto suspected in my situation. Where could Daniels and O'Brien be all this time? Would they divine where I had wandered while they slept, and come searching after me? Or what would they think of my unexplained absence? More and more clearly I comprehended the utter foolhardiness which had placed me in this unpleasant predicament; which had left me so completely isolated from any assistance. If there ​was any way whatsoever of escape I must discover it alone, and with the smallest possible delay. I ate like a famished wolf, the abundance of food, together with the pot of steaming coffee, yielding me new courage and strength. There was no sound without, no evidence that I was under any special guard. Probably my captors, confident of the security of the room, felt that any escape therefrom was impossible. With heart rapidly beating 1 crept across to where I had previously been at work, fully determined now to test the efficiency of my improvised lever.
To my delight the board came up slowly, the only sound a slight rasping of the nails; by moving my apparatus I thus succeeded in releasing the entire length of the plank. Except for the joists I could feel nothing below, yet it was necessary to dislodge a second board before I could succeed in squeezing my body through the narrow opening. With the purchase I now had this was not a difficult operation, although the board selected snapped sharply under the strain. Apparently the sound was unheard, and, after waiting several minutes, I swung down through the opening thus made, and let go my hold. The fall could not have been more than a few feet, yet my knees doubled under as I struck, and I pitched forward upon my hands. I was in a cellar, the floor paved with irregular blocks of stone, the side walls of solid plaster. I felt my way cautiously around the three sides of the place before discovering the door, which stood ajar, opening forth into a second apartment, not greatly dissimilar, although more littered up with various odds and ends. It was with difficulty I found passage amid the ​numerous boxes and hags obstructing the floor, but, by keeping one hand pressed against the side wall, I arrived finally at the opposite entrance. This door was closed, but unlocked, opening into the narroow hall through which Miss Jean had first conducted me into the house.
My heart bounded with exultation as I struck a match, and recognized my surroundings. The exit leading to the garden was at my right, and, before the flame died, I had my hand on the latch. I found the door securely locked, the key gone. I tested my strength vainly against its solid panels; evidently I must discover some other passage leading out, and the only opportunity would be found on the floor above. At the head of the short flight of steps I listened vainly for any sound, and, hearing none, ventured to peer forth into the main hallway. It was unoccupied, but a swinging lamp, burning dimly under a red shade, hung in front of the circular stairs leading to the story above. The shadows were confusing, yet I soon satisfied myself that no one was present to observe my movements. Little by little I advanced, crouching finally behind the protection of a huge coat-rack, I had scarcely reached this position when I overheard voices from the library, the door of which stood partly open. The first words distinguished were certainly ominous enough.
"But this is n't war,"—there was no mistaking Judge Dunn's voice. "He has no rights as a soldier, for he is not here in course of duty."
"What do you mean?" It was a woman who asked this, but not Miss Denslow, and I thought of the Judge's daughter.
​"He means," said some one else, quickly breaking in as if impatient, "that this man came here as an outlaw. Bill Daniels has returned; he was seen on Sand Creek last night, and this fellow was one of the men in his party. I don't know who he is, and I don't care, but he's working with Daniels, and probably wearing that uniform inertly to gain entrance here. He's no member of Rosecrans's staff, but Daniels's spy, and I'm for treating him as such. We've driven that gang out of this country once, and now we've got to keep them out, or have the same trouble all over again. It was Donald he asked after, was n't it, Jean?"
"Yes," the reply so low I could barely hear, "but I believe he is what he claimed to be."
"Oh, you'd believe anything. I have n't seen the fellow, but I understand he is young and good-looking. That makes virtue enough for a woman. I suppose he whispered some sweet things to you also."
"He behaved as a gentleman," the voice grown stronger from indignation. "He treated me with respect, which is more than you seem inclined to do."
"You are extremely tender toward Yankees since you rode off with one the other night."
"I have certainly discovered that the color of the uniform does not make the man."
"What are you two quarrelling over?" the Judge's voice broke in impatiently, and I could hear him pound the table with his hand. "Miss Jean has done her full duty, and needs no chiding from any of us. This man is her prisoner, and all we have got to decide is what ​disposition to make of the fellow. If I knew ho he was, and what brought him here, I could decide his treatment mighty quick."
"What would you do?"
"If he's a Yankee officer turn him over to Johnston as a prisoner of war; if he is a spy for Bill Daniels, hang him to the nearest tree."
in the intense silence I could distinguish the quick indrawing of breath, a murmur of gruff tones, and then a woman's voice.
"Have him in here and ask him then. Let him make answer for himself. Surely the three of you are not afraid of one man?"
No one spoke immediately, but there was a movement of chairs, and finally out of the slight confusion I heard a new, deeper voice speak.
"Did you say he was armed?"
"He carried two revolvers in his belt."
"Then we should go prepared, as he is probably desperate by this time. Have you weapons with you, Lieutenant?"
"No; they are in my room. I will run up and get them and be down in a moment. I feel a curiosity to see the fellow."
Crouching behind the hat-rack I caught merely a glimpse of the man's back as he raced up the circular staircase three steps at a time, but he wore a short gray jacket, and long cavalry boots, well splashed with mud. What, in God's name, was I to do? There was no hope of passing that open library door unobserved. I dashed to the ​back of the hall, but the exit leading to the kitchen refused to open. Perhaps I could get up stairs before the officer had secured his weapon,, and slip into some room having a window. It would not he much of a drop to the ground, and, even if I met him, it would he only one man, I was pitted against, and he no better armed than I. All this flashed over me in an instant, and the next, revolver in hand, I was flying up the carpeted steps. At the top I came into an upper hall, somewhat narrower than the one beneath, a half-dozen visible doors betokening as many rooms. To my left one door stood open, the light within shining brighter than that of the hall. There was where the Lieutenant was, securing his weapons without doubt. With barely a second of hesitancy, I turned to the right, circled the head of the stairs, and opened the first door yielding to my touch. I took a single step within, and stopped, as helpless to move as though paralyzed, one hand clutching my revolver, the other still upon the knob of the door. Through the main opening, as well as the wide transom above, the dim radiance of the hall lamp already revealed that interior—a great four-posted bed, a high, old-fashioned bureau, one drawer open several chairs and an oval mirror in a gilt frame. That the single window was open was revealed by the blowing back of the chintz curtains, while my feet pressed a thick carpet of some bright color. I saw all this at a glance for the details are with me yet, but then, it seemed to me, I stared at only one object—a motionless body lying outstretched upon the floor.
For an instant I could not believe my own eyes; then ​slowly, but with throbbing heart, I moved across the narrow space, and bent over the motionless figure. What could it mean? The man was clothed in short gray jacket, and long cavalry boots, splashed with mud. Could it be possible this was the same officer who had just passed up the stairs? He lay upon one side, somewhat huddled up, exactly as he had fallen, and I straightened the body, turning the face upward. He was a man not far from my own age apparently, a bit swarthy of complexion, with dark hair and a small black moustache. The jagged gash of a knife wound in the throat told how death had come, yet it must have been sudden, for the features were not distorted. I staggered back to my feet, still staring at him, unable fully to comprehend all the meaning of this situation, yet already dimly realizing its seriousness. However it might have occurred, this act of blood would be charged to me. The moment it was discovered by those below, and my vanishing from the store-room became known, I would be connected with this crime. My first thought was that of immediate escape; it would be ten minutes, perhaps even longer, before those others would become alarmed at his absence, and begin investigating the cause. That would afford me opportunity for the effort. But how could I go? By way of the window, of course; for there, undoubtedly, was where the real murderer had disappeared. I sprang forward, aroused to action by the fear which gripped me, and peered out. Although the night shadows were deceptive I judged it must be fully thirty feet to the ground. As I leaned across the sill my hand touched something moist, and I lifted it ​to the light, perceiving the red stain of blood. The murderer had hung there an instant before he dropped.
Somehow the sight brought with it a revulsion of feeling. I was not a coward; I would not run away like a cur. If I did, and if I succeeded in my escape, it would be with the brand of murder on me. They would say I did this deed; even Jean Denslow would believe it. The very chance thought of the girl served to spur my reviving courage. No, I would face this like a man; I would ally myself with her and her friends; I would help to trace down the fiend guilty of so foul an act. I stepped back over the motionless body, and opened the door. As I did so I came face to face with Jean Denslow.