“The lady seems to be in control at present,” he said shortly, shoving back the revolver into his belt. “Nevertheless I shall do my military duty, and hold you as a prisoner. May I inquire your full name and rank?”
“Philip Wayne, Captain ——th Virginia Cavalry, Shirtley's Brigade.”
“Why are you within our lines?”
“I attempted to pass through them last night with despatches, but was prevented by my desire to be of assistance to this lady.”
“Indeed?” He smiled incredulously. “Your tale is quite interesting and rather romantic. I presume you yet carry the papers with you as evidence of its truth?”
“If you refer to the despatches, I do not. I sincerely trust they are already safely deposited in the hands of the one for whom they were intended.”
A malignant look crept into Brennan's face, and his jaws set ominously.
“You will have to concoct a far better story than that, my friend, before you face Sheridan,” he said insolently, “or you will be very apt to learn how a rope feels. He is not inclined to parley long with such fellows as you. Bind his hands, men, and take him out with you into the road.”
The two soldiers grasped me instantly at the word of command. For a single moment I braced myself to resist, but even as I did so my eyes fell upon a slight opening in the wall, and I caught a quick glimpse of Bungay's face, his finger to his lips. Even as I gazed in astonishment at this sudden apparition, a lighter touch rested pleadingly on my arm.
“Do not struggle any longer, Captain Wayne,” spoke Mrs. Brennan's voice, gently. “I will go to General Sheridan myself, and tell him the entire story.”