"Yes. It is rough but short. When did you leave Richmond?"
"As soon as I could. You would have been better pleased, would you not, had I never left it? In your opinion, I should be in durance there, laid by the heels with Aaron Burr!"
"You are not yourself, Mr. Rand."
"Do not push innocence upon the board! When did it begin, your deep interest in my concerns? Before the world was made, I think, for always we have been at odds. But this—this especial matter, Ludwell Cary, this began with the letter which you wrote and signed 'Aurelius'!"
"A letter that told the truth, Mr. Rand."
"That is as may be. Telling the truth is at times an occupation full of danger."
"Is it?"
"The nineteenth of February—ah, I have you there! Was it not—was it not a pleasant employment for a snowy night to sit by the fire and learn news of an enemy—news the more piquant for the lips that gave it!"
"You are speaking, sir, both madly and falsely!"
They pressed their horses more closely together. Cary was pale with anger, but upon Rand's face was a curious darkness. Men had seen Gideon look so, and in old Stephen Rand the peculiarity had been marked. When he spoke, it was in a voice that matched his aspect. "Last October in the Charlottesville court room—even that insult was not insult merely, but a trap as well! It is to be acknowledged that yours was the master mind. I walked into your trap."