"No; I joined him by accident at Hot Springs."
"Under what name?"
The utter uselessness of attempting to lie was apparent. Her questions were too direct, too straight-forward, for any further evasion. The slightest quibbling now would cost me her friendship forever. If I hesitated, it was scarcely noticeable.
"Under the name," I replied quietly, "of Charles H. Raymond, Lieutenant Third U. S. Cavalry, on recruiting service."
"Oh!" the exclamation burst forth in surprise at my frank avowal. "Then you did not make that up merely to deceive me? You had been passing under that name with others. You had taken it for a distinct purpose—a—a military purpose?"
"I took it," I said slowly, and deliberately, my eyes looking steadily at her, "because I knew such a Federal officer had been detailed to service in this neighborhood."
She drew in her breath quickly, making a little gesture with one hand.
"Then—then you are a Confederate?"
"Yes."
"A spy! You are falsely wearing that uniform! Are you—are you a soldier?"
"A sergeant of artillery, Miss Harwood," I replied, calm and determined now that I had once
