“Private soldier?”

“Yes.”

“You are not a volunteer nurse?”

“No.”

“Your sister-in-law, Mrs. Paige, is?”

“Yes.”

“Now, Mrs. Craig”—­but he could not succeed in swaggering, with her calm, contemptuous eyes taking his measure—­“now, Mrs. Craig, is it true that you own, a mansion called Paigecourt near Richmond?”

“I do.”

“It was your father’s house?”

“It was my father’s home befo’ he was married.”

“Oh.  Who owns your father’s house—­the one he lived in after he was married?”

“Mrs. Paige.”

“She is your sister-in-law?  Your brother inherited this house?  And it is called Marye Mead, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“It is not occupied?”

“No.”

“Is Paigecourt—­your own house—­ah—­occupied?”

“It is.”

“By an overseer?”

“By a housekeeper.  The overseer occupies his own quarters.”

“I see.  So you hold slaves.”

“There are negroes on the plantations.  Mr. Paige, my father, freed his slaves befo’ I was married.”

The man looked surprised and incredulous.

“How did your father come to do that?  I never heard of a Southern slave owner voluntarily freeing his slaves.”

“A number of gentlemen have done so, at va’ious times, and fo’ va’ious reasons,” said Celia quietly.  “Mr. Paige’s reason was a personal matter. . . .  Am I obliged to give it to you?”

“I think you had better,” said the detective, watching her.

“Ve’y well.  Mr. Paige happened to find among family papers a letter written by General Washington to my grandfather, in which his Excellency said;

“’I never mean to possess another slave, it being now among my first wishes to see slavery, in this country, abolished by law.’  That is why my father freed his slaves.”

The detective blinked; then, reddening, started toward the door, until he suddenly remembered his rudiments of manners.  So he halted, bowed jerkily, clapped the hat on his head and the cigar into his mouth, and hastily disappeared.

When Celia scornfully informed Ailsa what had happened, the latter looked worried.

“You see,” she said, “how easily trouble is created.  Somehow the Government has learned about your coming here.”

“Oh, I had to have a pass.”

“Of course.  And somebody has informed somebody that you own Paigecourt, and that you hold slaves there, and therefore you might be a suspicious person.  And they told that detective to find out all about you.  You see, dear, for Curt’s sake and Stephen’s sake as well as for your own, you will have to be particularly careful.  You see it, don’t you?”

“Yes,” said Celia, thoughtfully, “I——­”

The sudden thunder of a field battery drowned her voice.  Ailsa ran to the door and looked out, and a soldier shouted to her the news of the Monitor’s combat with the Merrimac.  Battery after battery saluted; regiment after regiment blackened the hill-tops, cheering.  At dusk gigantic bonfires flamed.