“My dear child,” said Mrs Varney, “you don’t understand. They have proofs of a conspiracy. The Yankees are going to try to break through our lines to-night, some one is going to use the telegraph, and two men in the Northern Secret Service have been sent here to do this work. One is in Libby Prison. Our faithful Jonas has been corrupted. He went there to-day and took a message from one and brought it here to deliver it to the other. They are trying to make him speak out there to tell who——Our country, our cause, is at stake.”
“Is this Mr. Arrelsford’s story?” asked the daughter stubbornly, apparently entirely unconvinced.
“No; these are facts. We had Jonas in here,” answered her mother; “caught him off his guard, and found the incriminating paper on him.”
“But he has not said it was for——” persisted Edith desperately.
“Not yet,” whispered Mr. Arrelsford, “but he will. You may be sure of that; we have means to—Oh, Corporal,” he broke off eagerly, looking toward the door where the Corporal stood, his hand at salute. “Well, speak out, what does he say?”
“Nothing, sir.”
“What have you done with him?”
“Strung him up three times, and——”
“Well, string him up again,” snarled Arrelsford. “If he won’t speak, shoot it out of him, kill the dog. We don’t need his evidence any way, there’s enough without it.”
“There is nothing,” said Edith tersely.