"It is called 'Elmhurst,' sir."
"Elmhurst? A country estate?"
"Yes, sir, one of the old plantations."
"It's a name I never heard. Where is that precious lieutenant?"
"I presume he is in bed, sir," and Peter rose quietly to his feet, and began replacing the dishes on his tray. Apparently there was not a nervous throb to his pulse, and he remained blissfully indifferent to my presence. I stared helplessly at him, even words failing me.
"You refuse to inform me as to the truth of this affair?" I faltered at last, as he lifted his burden on one arm. He turned a stolid face my way.
"It would seem so, sir. I have to thank you for a most delightful evening, sir. Your conversation has been both instructive and entertaining. However, sir, the hour is now late, and I should advise your retiring."
He bowed solemnly, backing toward the door, and I sprang to my feet, overtaken by a sudden determination to make a break for freedom. There was a slight glitter in Peter's gray eyes, as he rapped sharply with his heel on the wood.
"I hardly think that would be advisable, sir," he warned softly. "The man outside is armed, and in the excitement might hurt you."
There was a click of the lock, and the heavy door swung open. I stood motionless, tempted to spring, yet not daring the venture. Peter backed majestically out, and I caught a glimpse of the graybeard, and the black outline of a pistol. Then the door closed, leaving me alone. The little scrap of candle left sputtered feebly, and, after walking across the floor a half-dozen times, striving to gain control of my temper, I blew it out, and crawled into the bunk. There was nothing I could do, but wait for morning; not a sound reached me from without, and, before I realized the possibility, I was fast asleep.