CHAPTER XXI
THE LADY CHOOSES
SHE came across toward me, her back to the others, and spoke swiftly, yet in a low voice which did not carry to their ears.
"There is only one way possible for you to pass out of this building and through the camp safely. There are guards everywhere, and the orders are very strict; but I think we can go together. I know the countersign—Captain Fox is officer of the day, and trusted me with it. If—if you only had a uniform! Where is the one you wore?"
"My trip through the chimney left that in rags," I answered, impressed by her earnestness, and getting my wits together.
She glanced about the walls of the room, a frown between her eyes.
"Then we must forage from the enemy," with a little nervous laugh. "You would never pass the sentry in the corridor wearing that suit. You will have to take the lieutenant's coat and cap. Be quick about it—and—and you need not be particularly gentle on my account."
"Nor on my own either—Fox informed me of what he told you."
I was not long about the job, nor did Raymond make any resistance to the exchange forced upon him. In fact he acted like a man too completely dazed to even realize the indignity of his treatment, yet the way his eyes followed my every movement, and the smouldering hate in their depths, left me to doubt but what the fellow would prove dangerous enough, if ever he regained the power. I took no chances, binding him with greater care than before, and fitting a gag into his mouth to silence any possible cry for help. Noreen stood close to the door, apparently listening for some noise without, yet occasionally directing her glance toward us anxiously. I slipped into the lieutenant's coat, which fitted me snugly, and pulled his cap well down over my eyes. I bore no resemblance to the man, yet in the dark the difference might not be noticed.
"Are you ready?" she asked in a low whisper.
"Yes; but tell me your plan. I need to know what character I am to enact,—Raymond?"
"Not at first; not in the hall. That would be useless, as there is a light burning. Listen," and she grasped my sleeve in both hands in her eagerness to explain. "Do you remember the way the corridor runs?"
"I think so. This is the left branch of the main hallway. It is about four feet wide, and this is the third door from the turn. Am I right?"
"Yes, as nearly as I can recall. I did not notice closely. The light is at the intersection, a coal-oil lamp in a bracket against the wall. There is a sentry stationed outside this door—the Colonel's orderly, I presume, but fully armed, and two others at the front entrance. These are twenty or thirty feet away, and out of sight from this door. I am not particularly afraid of passing them."
"It's the fellow stationed here?"
"Yes, he will be suspicious of a stranger coming out with me, for he has seen everyone who came in."
"There is only one course to pursue then. We must trust to force, and a quick assault which will give the fellow no time to raise an alarm. You go out alone, leaving the door slightly ajar, and engage him in conversation. Did he appear to be genial when you met him before?"
"Yes, rather eager to talk—a young man."
"Good; then you can gain his attention for a moment. Stand so that his back will be to the door."
"You are not going to kill him?"
"There will be no necessity; once I get my grip the affair will be over—you understand?"
Her lips were firmly set, her eyes gravely earnest. The light fell full on her face. I could not refrain from touching her hand.
"You will let me thank you!"
"There is no need. I could do no less."
"But few would show the bravery."
"Bravery! Why I have exhibited none. Please do not speak of that—every moment now means so much. Yes, I understand perfectly; shall I go now?"
I nodded, drawing slightly back behind the door. Her words brought me no encouragement, no hope that this act had been inspired by any sentiment beyond that of mere friendliness and gratitude. She felt under obligation, and was paying the debt. I was to expect nothing more. Once I was safe beyond the lines, it was to be simply good-by—a parting forever. I set my teeth hard, conscious of the pain at my heart, but with my lesson learned. I could expect nothing else; I had been a fool to dream—now I would perform a man's part, and hold to her respect at least. I thrust both revolvers into the belt I had retained; this was to be an affair of bare hands—swift, merciless, noiseless.
She grasped the latch of the door, lifted her eyes to mine for a bare instant; then opened it silently, and stepped out into the hall, her lips smiling, as she paused a moment to glance backward into the room.
"Very well, Colonel; I shall certainly take her your message," she said gaily, "and I thank you so much."
Her fingers released the latch, leaving the door standing ajar.
"Oh, sentry," she said pleasantly, but with guarded voice, "I know it is perfectly ridiculous, but a strand of hair has become entangled in this clasp. Would you kindly see if you can free it?"
"Certainly, Miss."
I heard him set down his musket against the wall, and step forward.
"On the other side," she suggested. "If you turn this way you will get the benefit of the light; it is caught in those crossed sabers, I think."
She stepped back as I gripped him, steadying the musket to keep it from being jarred to the floor. A gasp was all the sound he gave—a gasp, and one convulsive effort to break loose; but with the first jerk backward I had him off his feet, helpless, my arm circling his throat, holding him in a vise. I dragged him forward through the door, and flung him to the floor face downward.
"Not a cry, son," I commanded sternly. "I'll not shoot unless I have to. You are no worse off than your colonel. Hand me the rope cord in that upper desk drawer, Noreen; yes, that's it. Now, Jack, put your hands behind you! Ah! you've done the same job in your day, no doubt—easy there, or you may get hurt. Now I'll turn you over, and bottle up your tongue; rather a surprise party, wasn't it?"
The fellow stared up at me, and grinned.
"You sure did put it over me that time," he admitted, a touch of genuine admiration in his voice. "I was like a baby, sir."
"You would have been if you had weighed a ton, the grip I had on you—I know the trade."
"Ay! yer do that; who are yer, may I ask?"
"The spy you fellows planned to hang in the morning," I answered, amused by his unexpected good humor. "Sorry, Jack, but I'll have to gag you."
"The pleasure is mine; don't mention it," and he winked facetiously, with a nod of his head toward the heavily breathing colonel. I bound a bit of rag over his mouth, more to give him an excuse for silence than because I had any fear he would raise an alarm. Noreen had silently opened the door, and slipped out into the corridor. With a swift glance over the three helpless men left behind, I joined her, and tightly closed the door. The light of the distant lamp revealed her face, but her eyes were serious.
"Better leave the musket leaning against the wall," I whispered, noting she still grasped the weapon. "It will only arouse suspicion. There are two guards at the front entrance?"
"Yes," she answered swiftly, "and you had better give the word. If they stop you, and ask any questions, give any name you please—only you came with dispatches from General Ramsay two hours ago, and have been with Colonel Pickney ever since. It is less than an hour since the guard was relieved, for Captain Fox left me in order to make the rounds, and these men will not know. You understand?"
"Perfectly, and the countersign?"
"Kanawah."
I hesitated, and her eyes fell, the long lashes shading them completely.
"And you?" I asked, disappointed. "Do you mean to let me go out alone?"
"Would you think it best for us to go together?"
"It seems to me the guard would be far less apt to feel suspicion if I was accompanied by a lady whom they had already passed; they would recognize you."
The lashes uplifted again, and her eyes flashed into mine.
"Then I will go also," she said simply, "for I can guide you through the camp. I—I only thought perhaps you might prefer to make the trial alone. Draw the cap visor lower down over your eyes—we may meet with someone who saw you brought in as a prisoner. That is better; now we will chat as we go about—about—West Point. Do you remember, Lieutenant, that last cadet dance? how beautifully the moon reflected on the Hudson? Why, that was the night when I first met you wasn't it? I believe I like the cadet gray better than the blue. Captain Fox tells me—"
We turned the corner into the wide entrance hall, strolling slowly side by side, her face turned upward to mine. Apparently my eyes were upon her, and I made some inane response to her words, yet I saw the sentries at the door come stiffly to attention, and then cross their musket barrels to bar our exit. I halted as though in surprise.
"Are there any new orders?" I asked in tone of authority. "You remember passing us in, do you not?"
"We passed the lady, sir," the older man answered respectfully, "but no officer."
"Ah, yes, I see; you are not the same men who were on guard when I arrived. I am Lieutenant Mann, of General Ramsay's staff, and have been with Colonel Pickney. The lady will vouch for me."
"Yes, sir," yet with a lingering doubt in his voice. "No doubt it is all right, sir; but the orders are very strict tonight. If you have not the word I shall have to call the sergeant."
"Quite right, my man; but that is not necessary," and I took a step nearer and bent my head. "Kanawah."
The two men shouldered their muskets, and the older one brought his hand up in salute.
"Pass, sir," he said soberly, and stood aside. We went down the broad steps, dimly lighted by a distant fire, my hand touching her arm. At the foot a slight pressure served to guide me to the left, and we passed into the deeper shadow of the building without exchanging a word. The infantry camp lay between us and the road, while, on the side of the building where we were, were parked the empty wagons of a forage train. Teamsters, no doubt, were asleep beneath the covers, but there were no guards visible close to where we halted in the darkness. The campfire in front yielded just enough light to enable me to study out our surroundings. The band still played noisily in the courtroom above, the gay lilt of the dance music floating out through open windows. The hour must be nearly midnight, however, and the merrymaking would soon be ended. The camp was quiet, the soldiers apparently sleeping on the ground. I could perceive only a few tents, showing white in the firelight, but the figures of sentries appeared here and there, slowly pacing their beats. An oil street lamp in front of the hotel gave dim view in that direction through the tangle of wagons parked between. A footpath led straight across, to a gate in the white picket fence, and a motionless figure stood there silhouetted against the light. I could not be sure, yet was convinced he must be a soldier on guard. Had I been alone I should have crept forward beneath the shadow of the wagons, and thus endeavored to slip by unseen, but I was conscious of the hand which grasped my sleeve, and my eyes fell to her face.
"You are my guide tonight," I whispered softly. "Have you some plan already devised? There must be instant action."
"Hardly that; this has all occurred so quickly, so unexpectedly, I have had no time in which to think. Only we—we cannot lose a moment. Those men will surely be found soon, and—and the dance must be nearly over. Isn't it best to go straight ahead, and run the chance?"
"Past the guard yonder?"
"Yes; I am not greatly afraid of him! we have the word, and Captain Fox and I were together when I passed here before. He will remember me, and have no suspicion. Only there may be officers sitting on the veranda of the hotel."
"It looks dark, and deserted, from here; and the hour is late."
"True; I can perceive no movement, and I suppose all who are not on duty are at the dance. Besides there is no other way in which you can attain the stables. I—I am ready to try it—are you?"
I answered with the pressure of my hand, on the fingers clasping my sleeve. There was no response; neither were they withdrawn. She gazed steadily down the path in the direction of the sentinel, drew a long breath, and stepped bravely forward. The way was clear, easily followed even in the darkness, and I walked close beside her. Within a few yards of the fellow she gave vent to a little ripple of laughter, barely enough to attract attention, and again slipped her hand into the support of my arm.
"That was the funniest thing, Lieutenant," she exclaimed gaily. "I have laughed since every time I have thought of how he looked when he fell. Really I don't think I ever met a more awkward person—certainly never danced with one. Ah, sentry, has Captain Fox returned yet?"
"Not along this path, Miss," he answered respectfully, touching his cap in salute to me. The soldier stood at attention, but made no effort whatever to bar our progress; he was a middle-aged man, with a chin beard, his voice a soft drawl.
"When he returns," I said quietly, "please tell him that Lieutenant Mann is waiting to see him at the hotel."
"Yes, sir; Lieutenant Mann?"
"Of General Ramsay's staff," added the girl pleasantly. "He may not remember your name, Lieutenant."
"Yes, of Ramsay's—you'll not forget?"
"No, sir; I've got it all right."
We strolled on slowly, passing directly beneath the glare of the lamp. We attempted to talk, but I retain no memory of a single word that was uttered. My heart was beating like an engine, and my throat was dry, the fingers of one hand gripping the butt of a revolver in my belt. I was dimly aware of the tremor in her voice, the pressing closer to me of her slender figure. We passed out beyond the glow of the revealing light, to where our eyes were able to sweep the darkened porch. There were a dozen chairs standing back of the rail, but none were occupied. She gave a little sob of relief, both hands nervously grasping my sleeve.
"Thank God!" she said fervently, "now if we only have five minutes more!"