“Rip the papers out of your muff, Mrs. Norman, and you, little madam, let me have those I gave you.”
The two I had were hidden in my sleeve. While Milicent and I were getting the papers out, I heard Mr. Holliway say:
“Burn those papers, Locke. You can never get them to Baltimore, and you know in what fearful peril they keep us.”
“I might as well turn back if I burn them,” said the captain. “I take those papers to Baltimore, or I die trying—and I won’t die.”
“Excuse the trouble I give you, ladies,” he said, leaning back in his chair and putting his feet on another. “Will you open the hems of my trousers and sew those papers inside? It is a great favor.”
We ripped each hem, folded the papers inside as flat as possible, and sewed the hems up again. I had not made over Dan’s old uniform for nothing, and Milicent was always a skilful needlewoman—our hems looked quite natural and not at all “stuffed.” But we were so nervous that we worked very slowly, for we felt that a wrong stitch might cost Captain Locke his life.
He had worn his trousers turned up around the bottom to keep them out of the mud. When we had finished he carefully turned them back again, Mr. Holliway looking on gloomily.
“Now, ladies,” said the captain cheerfully, “we will all retire and get a good night’s rest. You have had a hard day and I am sure you must be tired.”
“Aren’t you going away?” we asked anxiously. “What did you take the papers for?”
He smiled.