"Would you permit me to go across to my father?" she asked.
"Most certainly; you are in no sense a prisoner, except I shall have to ask you to remain in the room for the present."
She inclined her head ever so slightly.
"I shall ask no further favor, and thank you for granting this."
I sank into the chair at the desk, and watched her cross the room. Her words and actions hurt me, and yet it was scarcely to be expected that she would be pleased with the sudden change in affairs. To see me thus in complete control of the situation, her father and Le Gaire prisoners, all their plans frustrated, was maddening, particularly so as she realized that this result came largely through her own indiscretion. I began myself to doubt the complete success of my scheme. Without question I had the power now to prevent her marriage, yet I might have gone too far, and caused a revulsion of feeling. She had been interested in me before--for it had been her part to help me in times of danger, and sympathy lies very close to love--but now the conditions were changed, and she might feel very different toward my interference. Perhaps I was destined to lose rather than gain, yet it was too late now to draw back--I must play the game out to its ending. I wrote rapidly, utterly ignoring her conversation with Hardy, yet someway conscious that Le Gaire sought to join in, and was answered in a single swift sentence, the girl not even turning to glance at him. The simple action caused my heart to leap to my throat--could it be the lady played a part, her coldness to me intended to deceive others? It was a hope, at least, and I went to my task with fresh courage. I told it all in a dozen sentences--Johnston's plans for the morrow; the withdrawal of Confederate troops from our left, and their concentration in reserve of the enemy's centre; our capture of the Hardy house, and my hope to retain possession until the right of our line could be flung forward. Then I called Ross, and he came across the room, looking scarcely more than a boy, but with a serious face.
"Can you find your way back down the ravine to our lines, my lad?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then don't lose any time. The Confederate troops have been withdrawn, but you must watch out for stragglers. Give this to Colonel Cochran, and tell him it must be forwarded to headquarters at once. Explain to him the situation here. Now be off."
He saluted, wheeled sharply about, and went out the window. I heard him strike the ground. Then I sat silently looking at the others in the room, wondering how the sergeant was getting along, and slowly realizing that I had a white elephant on my hands. I was endeavoring to play two games at once, love and war, and the various moves were confusing. It might be possible even for my little squad to hold this advance position until reinforcements arrived, but what could be done with the prisoners? Billie might forgive me--realizing the motive--for all which had occurred thus far, but if I were to turn her father and Le Gaire over to the hardships of a Northern prison, I could expect no mercy. I cared little as to the fate of the others, they had taken the chances of war, but these two must be liberated before our troops came up. I could not catch the girl's eyes; she sat with averted face, talking earnestly to her father. Uneasy, and puzzled how best to straighten out the tangle, I went out into the hall, and glanced in at the room opposite. A bunch of gray-clad men were against the wall, disarmed and helpless, even their tongues silent, and three watchful troopers guarded them, revolvers in hand. All stared at me as I stepped forward.
"Where is the sergeant?"