“I cannot promise what leniency would be shown; but if you can recover the papers and will tell whom you suspect, I will do my best to see that nothing shall be done without full proof of treachery.”
“Then if I can get the papers, and I promise to tell you why they were taken, will that do?”
“So far as you are concerned, yes, I think it will. Wait here and I will confer with the general.”
But her brother had no sooner left the room than Lettice flew out by the back way, ran to the stable, flung the saddle on her horse, and was off like a shot. She would take no risks. Down the road she galloped, and dashed up before the porch where Rhoda was sitting alone.
“Lettice!” cried Rhoda, coming hastily forward, “what are you doing here? Is there no one with you? Have you brought bad news?”
Lettice slipped down from her horse, twisted the bridle through the ring of the hitching-post, and ran up the steps. “Are you alone, I ask in turn?”
“Yes. What is it? You are so agitated. Has anything happened to—anybody?”
Lettice did not heed the eagerness of the question nor the sudden pause before the last word. “I am alone, yes. And something has happened. No, no one is hurt, but some valuable papers have been stolen. Do you know anything about it?”
“I? What should I know?” Rhoda drew herself up, and held her head high.
“I overheard you talking one day to Mr. Robert Clinton, and you said things which made me suspect that you might try to help the enemy, if you had a chance. And——Oh, Rhoda, never mind if I do seem to accuse you! it is to save Mr. Clinton. If you have any love for him or for me, tell me truly, do you know anything about the papers?”