"But there is more. The search for those missing papers, and, above all, for the one who took them—a tall woman in a brown cloak, they say—has not ceased, nor will it; the matter is in the hands of a crafty, persistent man and he thinks he has a clue. He has learned, as I learned, that a woman dressed like you and looking like you was in the Government building on the day of the celebration. He believes that woman is still in the city, and he is sure that she is the one for whom he seeks."
Her face blanched; he saw for the first time a trace of feminine weakness, even fear. It was gone, however, like a mist before a wind, as her courage came back.
"But this man, whoever he may be, cannot find me," she said. "I am hidden unless some one chooses to betray me; not that I care for myself, but I cannot involve my generous cousin in such a trouble."
Prescott shook his head.
"Your trust I have not merited, Miss Catherwood," he said. "If I had chosen to give you up to the authorities I should have done so before this. And your confidence in your hiding place is misplaced, too. Richmond is small. It is not a great city like New York or Philadelphia, and those who would conceal a Northern spy—I speak plainly—are but few. It is easy to search and find."
Prescott saw her tremble a little, although her face did not whiten again, nor did a tear rise to her eye. She went again to the window, staring there at the frozen world of winter, and Prescott saw that a purpose was forming in her mind. It was a purpose bold and desperate, but he knew that it would fail and so he spoke. He pointed out to her the lines of defenses around Richmond, and the wilderness beyond all, buried under a cold that chained sentinels even to their fires; she would surely perish, even if she passed the watch.
"But if I were taken," she said, "I should be taken alone and they would know nothing of Miss Grayson."
"But I should never give up hope," he said. "After all, the hunted may hide, if warned, when the hunter is coming."
She gave him a glance, luminous, grateful, so like a shaft of light passing from one to another that it set Prescott's blood to leaping.
"Captain Prescott," she said, "I really owe you thanks."