"And that lieutenant?" she inquired. "Oh, I hope you have hanged him."
"No," said Frank, "but he's a prisoner."
"It is not enough," she said with a shudder of repulsion.
"Have you heard anything of the young soldier that the lieutenant was going to hang?" asked Frank eagerly.
"No," she answered. "But stay," she added, "I have something here that you may want to see."
She darted back in the house and quickly returned with a very-much crumpled card in her hand.
"It is a carte postale," she explained. "We found it in the yard some days after you had been here. It had been trampled in the mud by the horses' feet and the writing had been scraped or blotted out. Perhaps it belonged to the young man. It may have fallen from his pocket. I do not know."
Frank took it eagerly from her hand, while his comrades gathered around him.
The card was almost illegible, but it could be seen that it was a United States postal. There was not a single word upon it that could be made out in its entirety, but up in the corner where the postmark had been they could see by straining their eyes the letters C and M.
"That's Camport, I'm willing to bet!" exclaimed Bart excitedly.