“Would they use them to find that Yankee prisoner who had escaped?” Dorothea asked a little breathlessly.
“Oh, they’re sure to. Maybe that’s who they are after. Listen! They are coming nearer—I think I can hear horses galloping.”
Undoubtedly the noises of the man-hunt were louder and Dorothea felt a clutch of pain at her heart. Was the poor man she saw at the window that night to be caught by hounds? She shuddered at the thought.
CHAPTER VIII
INCREASING MYSTERY
The baying of hounds and at length the rapid tread of horses’ hoofs reached their ears, growing more distinct each instant.
“They are coming this way,” Harriot murmured under her breath.
“Why should they come here?” Dorothea demanded, beginning to feel more and more apprehensive.
“I suppose somebody’s servant has run away,” Harriot answered, a little reluctantly. “Not ours,” she hastened to add. “Our people wouldn’t run away for anything. They’re too well treated.”
“Then there are some that aren’t well treated?” Dorothea’s tone was more coldly judicial than she knew.