“I’m glad that you think we behaved well,” I said dryly. “But the fact does not explain Captain Wilmer’s escape.”
“No, but Con made her market of the fact, God bless her, as of other things,” he answered. And he looked at me so meaningly that the color rose in my face. “She used it to get her interview with her father, and—of course you were too gentlemanly to search her.”
“Which means?”
“That she took in a nigger outfit, and the rest of it, under her skirts—wig, stain, and all. That night her boy, Tom, took the place of the tavern waiter and carried in Wilmer’s supper and stayed while he ate it. At nine o’clock there was a fight among some negro teamsters in front of the tavern, and under cover of the skirmish Wilmer carried out the tray, with a napkin in his mouth, crossed to the tavern, walked up the yard as bold as brass, and vanished. Clever wasn’t it? Ten minutes later when the guard was changed his black walked out too, carrying the plates. I suppose, first and last,” Marion continued, thoughtfully tapping his boot, “a dozen persons white and black, knew of the plan before it came off—knew where the ’possum was—and not one peached. Weigh that, Major, weigh that, if you please, and tell me, if you can, that you still think you will beat us! Why you’re beaten already!”
“But Tom—”
“Oh, the nigger ran his risk,” Marion replied carelessly. “Wasn’t he Wilmer’s boy, born on the place? He’d do that and more. And after all he got clear. And by God—I don’t think that I ever saw a more curious thing than I saw just now, and I’ll wager something it’s a sight that I shall never see again.”
“What was it?” I asked dully. Seven words he had said earlier “she made use, good use of you” were repeating themselves over and over again in my brain.
“What was it? Why, a white woman on her knees kissing a black man’s hands! A spoiled nigger, Major! You may take it from me, a spoiled nigger! Wilmer may as well free him. He’ll never be worth a continental cent to him again.”
“It was a clever plan,” I said. But I could not throw much spirit into my words.
“Oh, she’s a jewel is Madam Constantia!” he answered. “It makes me laugh now to think how she made use of us all. She wanted me to beat up Winnsboro’ at sunrise to-day if Tom’s plan failed; as if I were likely to venture my fellows against the whole British army! No, I couldn’t do that, even for Wilmer. But I told her I would move up to Camden and be at hand at daybreak to-day in case he was followed; and that if possible I’d fall back by this road. As a fact Tom was here first with the news, but those rogues—there’s a woman’s weak point, she don’t know whom to trust—seized him, poor devil, for some reason of their own and when we landed we found him tied up in a shed at the back.”