She flung back her head defiantly.

“Which I refuse to give.”

“Then obey my orders; is that your room yonder?”

“Yes.”

“I will trouble you to go in there.”

She stared at me, biting her lip, with foot tapping the carpet, but I had spoken sternly.

“Do you mean that?”

“Every word.  I hope I shall not have to call one of my men, and place you under guard.”

There could be no doubt she was angry, yet I was the master, and, after one glance into my face, her eyes burning, she swept by me, and entered the room designated.  I gave a glance about its interior, marking the distance to the ground; then took the key-and inserted it in the outer lock.  She stood silently facing me, her face flushed, her bosom rising and falling swiftly.

“I regret very much this necessity,” I apologized, “but you have left me no alternative.”

“I have no desire to be spared,” she returned, “and no favors to ask, Lieutenant Galesworth.”

Our eyes met, mine, I am sure, as resolute as her own, and I stepped back into the hall, closing and locking the door.

CHAPTER XXIII

THE CHALLENGE

I went slowly down stairs, swayed by a conflict of emotions.  Had I indeed gone too far, been too stern and abrupt?  Still it was surely better to err in this direction than to exhibit weakness, and it was only between these two that I had any choice remaining.  What lay between us and our own lines was uncertain—­possibly Confederate pickets, surely bands of stragglers, renegades from both armies.  Now that we had waited so long, it would be a desperate chance to attempt to traverse that ravine in daylight.  We were far safer here, hidden away, but must guard well that no knowledge of our presence be scattered abroad.  Billie had defied me, threatened, and refused to accept parole; nothing remained but to hold her prisoner.  Besides her words had stung and angered me.  Even while I doubted their entire truth they still hurt, serving to increase my bitterness toward Le Gaire.

I was in this mood as I paused a moment to glance out at the gray dawn.  The smooth pike was at least a hundred yards away, barely visible here and there through the intervening trees.  Everything about was quiet and deserted—­war seemed a long way off.  Standing there alone, hearing the birds singing in the branches, and gazing out across the green, closely trimmed grass, I could scarcely realize our perilous position, or the exciting events of the past night.  I felt more like a guest than an invader, and was compelled to bring myself back to realities with an effort.  I was helped by the sudden appearance of Miles in the hallway.

“Thought I better take another look down stairs, sir,” he explained, as I turned, facing him.  “They are quiet enough in there.”

“I was just going in,” I said.  “We will have to put those two with the others at present.  Our people should be up here before night, and meanwhile we must remain quiet.  Anything happened in there?”