“Oh, a very nice young lady,” pursued Mr. Bagby to himself, as he walked on, feeling his way in the darkness. He did not tell the General that he had lately had an interview which had raised Miss Ruth Welch in his esteem and changed her, in his mind, from the viper which the General conceived her to be, to the nice young lady of whom he muttered in the dusk of the summer night.
This interview with his lawyers had been over an hour ago. Steve was still in the room in which the interview had been held; but the high stand which he had taken with his counsel had now lost some of its loftiness as the hardness of his position stood nakedly before him. After all, had not this girl betrayed him? Why should he sacrifice himself for her? This thought flitted before Steve, only for an instant. He put it away from him with a gesture of bitterness. At least he would be a gentleman, whatever befell. He took from his pocket a pistol which he wore when he surrendered, and which had not been taken from him, and examined it attentively, with a curious expression on his face. He was thinking deeply. Suddenly his expression changed. “Never! Cowardice!” He flung the pistol over on the cot by the window. The reflection had come to him that it would be taken as a proof of fear as well as of guilt. And, moreover, the thought had come that he might still be of use.
The triumph of Leech recurred to him. He very often thought of Leech—of Leech, who had hounded him down, and not only him, but others a thousand times better: Dr. Cary, the high-minded, noble gentleman, the faithful Christian. Leech, the vampire, sucking the life-blood of the people; the harpy, battening on the writhing body of the prostrate State, had broken Dr. Cary’s heart. Jacquelin had told Steve how the Doctor looked as he lay in his coffin, murdered; his face full of scars, but calm with the stamp of immortal courage—like an old knight, paladin of a lost cause, stricken through the heart in a final charge, before the light of victory could fade from his brow. Steve, thinking of this, was leaning against the bars of his open window, looking away into space through the dusk. The window was in the rear of the jail, and looked down on a vacant, weed-grown lot, back of the court-green. Steve became conscious of the presence of two men in the open space beneath. They had just moved, so as to be in the shadow of the building, and were right below his window, conversing earnestly. Suddenly their voices rose, and Steve was almost startled to recognize Leech and McRaffle. He could not help hearing what they were saying. McRaffle was insisting on something, and Leech was refusing. McRaffle broke out in a passion. He was evidently under the influence of liquor.
“You owe it to me. You said you would pay me $1,000 for him, alive or dead,” he asserted. “I kept my part of the bargain; now, blank you! stand up to yours.”
“If you had brought him dead, I might have paid; but you did not capture him,” said Leech, with a harsh laugh. “He gave himself up.”
“Well, it was in consequence of the report I circulated,” insisted McRaffle. “Do you suppose he’d have given himself up, if he had not heard that if he did so the others would be released?”
Leech laughed incredulously. “More fool he!”
“And whose idea was that?”
“My friend, there’s no use to try that game on me. What good would that have done, if I had not induced Miss Welch to tell what your friend was fool enough to confide to her? Where would we have been but for her testimony? If anyone is entitled to claim the reward I offered, I am the man. I must protect the Government.” He spoke unctuously.
“You think you are entitled to everything. I know how you’ll protect the Government!” sneered McRaffle. “Suppose your important witness won’t testify?” he asked.