"You must conceal yourself," cried Mrs. Stafford. "Come here." She pulled him almost by main force into a closet or entry, and locked the door, just as the knocking was renewed. As the front door was apparently about to be broken down, she went out into the hall. Her face was deadly white, and her lips were moving in prayer.
"Who's there?" she called, tremblingly, trying to gain time.
"Open the door immediately, or it will be broken down," replied a stern voice.
She turned the great iron key in the heavy, old, brass lock, and a dozen men pushed into the hall. They all waited for one, a tall, elderly man in a general's fatigue-uniform, with a stern face and a grizzled beard. He addressed her.
"Madam, I have come to take possession of this house as my head-quarters."
Mrs. Stafford bowed, unable to speak. She was sensible of a feeling of relief; there was a gleam of hope. If they did not know of her husband's presence—? But the next word destroyed it.
"We have not interfered with you up to the present time, but you have been harboring a spy here, and he is here now."
"There is no spy here, and has never been," said Mrs. Stafford, with dignity. "But if there were, you should not know it from me. It is not the custom of our people to deliver up those who have sought their protection." She spoke with much spirit.
The officer removed his hat. His keen eye was fixed on her white face. "We shall search the premises," he said, still sternly, but more respectfully than he had yet spoken. "Major, have the house thoroughly searched."
The men went striding off, opening doors and looking through the rooms. The General took a turn up and down the hall. He walked up to a door.