"To whom do I owe a lesson in gallantry?" he asked with a low and sweeping bow.
"James Frisby, of Fairlee, a Lieutenant in the Maryland Line," I replied with equal courtesy.
Mistress Jean had stood as though she were turned to stone during our exchange of courtesies, but now she seemed to recover.
"Captain Farquharson," she cried, and she came and stood between us, "this is an old friend of mine. He saved my life at the Braes when we were raided by the rebels. You must promise me to let him go free out of the city."
"Your wishes, Mistress Jean, are law," said he, "and shall be obeyed. I shall give him till morning to escape in."
"Which I promptly accept," said I, "with the hope that I may be able to repay your courtesy if fortune should bring you within our lines some day."
And so he bade Mistress Jean farewell, but as he passed me, I whispered to him:
"Sir, some words have been said that need an explanation."
"It will give me pleasure to offer you one at any place you may appoint."
"Then meet me," I said, "two days hence at sunrise on the pike, half-way between the lines."