“Not to my knowledge, Major,” I answered honestly.  “Perhaps I was harsh last night, but I merely intended to be firm.  This is all a great surprise to me.”

He shook his head, and the two men left the room.  I waited until certain they were safely out of the way.  I was perplexed, hurt, by the girl’s words and action.  What cause had I given her for treating me with such open contempt?  Surely not my avowal of love, however inopportune that might have been, nor my holding her prisoner.  Could something have occurred of which I knew nothing?  Could Le Gaire have poisoned her mind against me with some ingenious lie?  It was all too hazy, too improbable, for me to consider seriously—­but she must explain before we went away.  With this in mind I passed into the hall, and began to ascend the stairs.

CHAPTER XXVII

THE BODY OF LE GAIRE

Miles had stationed a sentry just inside the front door, but he was the only one of our men visible, nearly all of the others being at breakfast in the kitchen.  I felt no need of any help however, for Le Gaire was unarmed, and not of a nature to make serious resistance.  Besides, if I was mistaken as to his hiding place in the house I preferred making the discovery alone.  My exploration during the night had made me familiar with the arrangement of the front rooms, but not the extension to the rear.  I stopped, in the silence, at the head of the stairs, to glance about, and decide where I had better begin.  Miss Hardy’s door was closed, even the transom lowered, and I instantly decided not to disturb her until the very last.  Yet I was soldier enough to take the other rooms in rotation, realizing the danger of leaving an enemy in my rear.  These were soon disposed of, although I made a close search, disarranging beds, delving into closets, and leaving no nook or corner big enough to conceal a man, unrevealed.  I endeavored to accomplish all this quietly, yet must have made some noise, for as I rolled back a bed in the third room entered, I heard the door creak and sprang to my feet to confront Billie.  I hardly know which was the more startled, for the girl staggered back, one hand thrown out.

“You!  Oh, I thought—­” she drew her breath quickly.

“You thought what?”

“Oh, nothing—­only I heard the noise, and—­and wondered who it could be.”  She looked about at the confusion.  “What—­what are you doing?  Hunting for some one?”

“A needle in a haystack,” I answered, suddenly suspicious that she might know something of the fugitive.  “Will you help me search?”

“I—­I hardly appreciate your humor,” haughtily.  “Is—­is it Captain Le Gaire?”

“Why do you suspect that, Miss Willifred?  Is it because you imagine the man may be here?”

“Because I know he got away; because I know your feeling toward him, your effort to take his life.”

“You know!  What is all this?” so stunned I could scarcely articulate.  “Surely your father—­”