"Isn't that an unnecessary question?"
"No. I am not a mind reader."
"You need not strain your imagination. Do you know Major George Pegram, of the —th Virginia Cavalry?"
"I do. He is my cousin."
"He was." Stanton stopped and eyed Nancy intently; but she sat as if carved from stone. Not by cry or sign did she betray the shock his words gave her. "Major Pegram was killed last Wednesday, when trying to get through our lines about Winchester."
"Poor fellow!" Nancy's tone was keyed to express simply natural sorrow and regret. "I am sure his death became him."
Stanton looked baffled, as his bomb shell exploded without apparent effect. Was there no vulnerable spot in her armor of iron self-control? After a moment he continued his examination.
"Your cousin was killed by Captain Lloyd, of the Secret Service, who took from his dead body the cipher despatch which you secured under the noses of a room full of my officers at Winchester." He paused to let the meaning of his words sink in.
Nancy thought for a second; then shook her head. "I fail to recall any such incident."
"You have a poor memory," retorted Stanton. "Possibly it will be improved when I show you the despatch in your handwriting."