“Not until I know more than I do now,” he retorted savagely.  “There is something hidden here.  You are pretending all this indifference so as to give that fellow sufficient time to get away.  I’m damned if I put up with it.”

“Captain Le Gaire,” and she was upon her feet, “do you venture to address such language to me?  Do you dare—­”

“I am no dupe of yours or of any other woman,” he broke in, too angry now to restrain his words.  “There is something wrong here, and I mean to know what it is.  If you won’t tell, I’ll find out myself.”  He strode across to the window and called to some one below.  “Slade, come in here.”

There was a moment of waiting, during which neither stirred, nor spoke.  Then the trooper entered, his heels clicking together as he saluted just within the doorway.

“Sergeant,” said Le Gaire shortly.  “I have reason to suspect there is a man hidden in that room yonder.  I’ll keep an eye on this young lady, while you find out.”

Slade took a step forward, and the girl’s dress rustled.

“Wait just a minute, Sergeant,” she said briefly.  “Am I to understand from this, Captain Le Gaire, that you are not only a bully, but also a coward?”

“A coward!—­”

“Yes, a coward.  You order the sergeant to open that door—­why do you not open it yourself?”

He laughed rather unpleasantly.

“So that’s the trouble?  Well, it’s merely a way we have in the army, but if it will greatly oblige you I’ll do the job.”

It was useless waiting longer; the room offered me no possible hiding-place, the two windows looked down on the waiting cavalrymen.  Beyond doubt boldness was the best card to play.  Before the rather reluctant captain could take a second step I flung open the concealing door, and came forth into the breakfast room.

CHAPTER VII

A WOMAN’S PRISONER

The scene before me, the expression on the three faces, caused me to smile.  I came forth with no definite plan of action, trusting, as one must at such times, wholly to luck.  There was no means of escape apparent, yet my mind was cool, and I was prepared to take advantage of any opportunity.  I saw the flash of the sergeant’s revolver, the captain’s sudden recoil, his hand tugging at his sword-hilt, and glimpsed something in the depths of Billie’s eyes that puzzled me.

“Good-morning, gentlemen,” I said easily.

So far as Slade was concerned it was evident that all he saw was the uniform, his revolver instantly covering me, held in a hand steady as rock; he even grinned amiably across the barrel.  But the expression on Le Gaire’s face changed from startled surprise to relief.  He was a tall man, with dark hair and eyes, a black moustache shading his lip, and his hand fell from the hilt of the sword as he took an uncertain step toward me.

“Drop that gun-play, Sergeant,” he exclaimed sharply.  “This man is all right; I know him.”