She drew from her bosom a note from his wife. He looked curiously at a smudge where it was sealed and, glancing at the girl who was busy with the tray, opened and read:
"I have just received a message from MacArthur's daughter that your life is to be imperilled to-night by a dangerous raid. Remember your helpless wife and baby. Surely there are trusted men who can do such work. You have often told me that no wise general ever risks his precious life on the firing line. You are a soldier, and know this. Please, dearest, do not go. Baby and little mother both beg of you!"
Norton looked at Cleo again curiously. He was sure that the seal of this note had been broken and its message read by her.
"Do you know what's in this note, Cleo?" he asked sharply.
"No, sir!" was the quick answer.
He studied her again closely. She was on guard now. Every nerve alert, every faculty under perfect control. He was morally sure she was lying and yet it could only be idle curiosity or jealous interest in his affairs that prompted the act. That she should be an emissary of the Governor was absurd.
"It's not bad news, I hope?" she asked with an eagerness that was just a little too eager. The man caught the false note and frowned.
"No," he answered carelessly. "It's of no importance." He picked up a pad and wrote a hurried answer:
"Don't worry a moment, dear. I am not in the slightest danger. I know a soldier's duty and I'll not forget it. Sleep soundly, little mother and baby mine!"
He folded the sheet of paper and handed it to her without sealing it. She was watching him keenly. His deep, serious eyes no longer saw her. His body was there, but the soul was gone. The girl had never seen him in this mood. She was frightened. His life was in danger. She knew it now by an unerring instinct. She would watch the jail and see what happened. She might do something to win his friendship, and then—the rest would be easy. Her hand trembled as she took the note.