“At the home of Colonel Morland, sir. He is wounded and could not come.”
“So that accounts for his continued absence. I sent him to learn if possible Sherman’s projected plans. I had began to fear that some mischance had overtaken him.”
“He barely escaped with his life, sir; and reached our place this morning unable to go further. Here are the papers, sir, he requested me to hand you.”
General Johnston eagerly took the packet and tearing it open was soon perusing its contents.
Mara saw his countenance change as he read on, and the hand that held the paper trembled.
“Well, well,” he broke forth, at last, “this puts a new phase on the matter. Had I known this an hour earlier my plans would have been laid differently. But better late than never. We have time enough to reach there. Mr. Morland, for that is the name Wyman gives you, you have done us a great service. Any favor I can do you?”
“I would like a pass, sir, so that I can return home.”
“Certainly, and bear my good wishes to Wyman.”
“Thank you. And—and if it is not asking too much,” stammered Mara, “I would like permission to visit Curtis Remington, the captive spy.”
Her heart seemed to stop its beating as she waited for his reply.