The house offered them no welcome. Its doors and windows were closed, but Dick had seen thin smoke rising from a chimney in the rear. He expected that they would have to force the door, but at the first knock it was thrown open by a tall, thin woman of middle years. The look she gave them was full of bitter hatred—Dick sometimes thought that women could hate better than men—but her manner and bearing showed distinction. He, as well as his comrades, took her to be the lady of the house.
“We ask your pardon, madame, for this intrusion,” said Colonel Winchester, “but we are compelled to occupy your house a while. We promise you as little trouble as possible.”
“We ask no consideration of any kind from men who have come to despoil our country and ruin its people,” she said icily.
Colonel Winchester flushed.
“But madame,” he protested, “we do not come to destroy.”
“I do not care to argue with you about it,” she said in the same lofty tone, “and also you need not address me as madame. I am Miss Woodville.”
Dick started.
“Does this house belong to Colonel John Woodville?” he asked.
“It does not,” she replied crisply, “but it belongs to his elder brother, Charles Woodville, who is also a colonel, and who is my father. What do you know of Colonel John Woodville?”
“I met his son once,” replied Dick briefly.