“If you could get me some food it would be the best thing that could happen to me,” it said.
“I don’t know how I’m going to do it,” Dorothea answered. “You see, they are having a ball down stairs, and probably all the servants are busy, and—”
She was halted by the first strains of the music coming up to them from the parlors below.
“Have you nothing in your room?” the man asked, weakly.
“Nothing but the chocolate I gave you—which you have eaten,” Dorothea answered, and at that moment there came a knock at the door.
Dorothea closed the window softly and crossed the room.
“Who is it?” she asked, controlling her voice as well as she could.
“Please, Miss Dee, Ol’ Miss is askin’ where yoh-all is?” came Lucy’s voice.
Instantly Dorothea remembered the bright red ribbon in the girl’s hair. That there were negroes in this band of Red Strings was certain, seeing how necessary their assistance would be if anything secret was to be done in the South. She was on the point of taking the maid into her confidence when a doubt assailed her. Could she be sure of Lucy? Reluctantly she shook her head. She dared not make a mistake; the freedom, perhaps the life, of the man on the roof depended upon her and she could leave nothing to chance.
“I’ll be down shortly,” she called softly through the door, “and, Lucy,” she went on, with a sudden inspiration, “can’t you get me some sandwiches and a glass of wine? I didn’t eat much supper and—”