“You don’t understand the situation, Colonel. That man is suspected of being the assistant to a most dangerous, unknown spy within our lines. He has been followed from Beaufort by a Confederate secret service agent, whom he tried to escape by doubling on the road, taking by-ways, riding fully twenty miles out of his course, to reach this point unobserved.”
For the first time the suspected man spoke, and it was to Judithe.
“That is quite true, Madame. I mean that I rode out of my way. But the reason of it is that I came over the road for the first time; there were no sign-boards up, and my directions had not been explicit enough to prevent me losing my way. That is my only excuse for not being here earlier. I am not landsman enough to make my way through the country roads and timber.”
“You perceive, Colonel McVeigh, the man is in my employ, and has come here by my orders,” said Judithe, with a certain impatience at the density of the accuser.
“That should be credential enough,” and McVeigh’s tone held a distinct reprimand as he frowned at Masterson’s senseless accusation, but that officer made a gesture of protest. He was being beaten, but he did not mean to give up without a hard fight.
“Colonel, there were special reasons for doubt in the matter. Madame Caron, apparently, does not know even the man’s name. I asked him to write it––here it is,” and he handed McVeigh the paper. “I asked her to name him––she refused!”
“Yes; I resented the manner and reason for the question,” assented Judithe; “but the man has been the master of my yacht for over a year, and his name is Pierson––John T. Pierson.”
“Correct,” and McVeigh glanced at the paper on which the name was written. “Will you also write the name of Madame Caron’s yacht, Mr. Pierson?” and he handed him a book and pencil. “Pardon me,” and he smiled reassuringly at Judithe, “this is not the request of suspicion, but faith.” He took the book from Pierson and glanced at the open page and then at her––“the name of your yacht is?––”
“The Marquise,” she replied, with a little note of surprise in her voice, as she smiled at Evilena, who had slipped to her side, and understood the smile. Evilena and she had made plans for a season of holidays on that same yacht, as soon as the repairs were made. Colonel McVeigh tossed the book indignantly on the table.