“I congratulate you, sir,” said Captain Pinckney, with an ironical salute, “on your prompt reward for your treachery to the South, and your equally prompt adoption of the peculiar tactics of your friends in the way in which you have entered this house.”

“I am sorry I cannot congratulate you, sir,” returned Judge Beeswinger gravely, “on breaking your oath to the government which has educated and supported you and given you the epaulettes you disgrace.  Nor shall I discuss ‘treachery’ with the man who has not only violated the trust of his country, but even the integrity of his friend’s household.  It is for that reason that I withhold the action of this warrant in so far as it affects the persons of the master and mistress of this home.  I am satisfied that Mr. Brant has been as ignorant of what has been done here as I am that his wife has been only the foolish dupe of a double traitor!”

“Silence!”

The words broke simultaneously from the lips of Clarence and Captain Pinckney.  They stood staring at each other—­the one pale, the other crimson—­as Mrs. Brant, apparently oblivious of the significance of their united adjuration, turned to Judge Beeswinger in the fury of her still stifled rage and mortification.

“Keep your mercy for your fellow-spy,” she said, with a contemptuous gesture towards her husband; “I go with these gentlemen!”

“You will not,” said Clarence quietly, “until I have said a word to you alone.”  He laid his hand firmly upon her wrist.

The deputy and his prisoners filed slowly out of the courtyard together, the latter courteously saluting Mrs. Brant as they passed, but turning from Judge Beeswinger in contemptuous silence.  The judge followed them to the gate, but there he paused.  Turning to Mrs. Brant, who was still half struggling in the strong grip of her husband, he said,—­

“Any compunction I may have had in misleading you by accepting your invitation here I dismissed after I had entered this house.  And I trust,” he added, turning to Clarence sternly, “I leave you the master of it!”

As the gate closed behind him, Clarence locked it.  When his wife turned upon him angrily, he said quietly,—­

“I have no intention of restraining your liberty a moment after our interview is over, but until then I do not intend to be disturbed.”

She threw herself disdainfully back in her chair, her hands clasped in her lap in half-contemptuous resignation, with her eyes upon her long slim arched feet crossed before her.  Even in her attitude there was something of her old fascination which, however, now seemed to sting Clarence to the quick.

“I have nothing to say to you in regard to what has just passed in this house, except that as long as I remain even nominally its master it shall not be repeated.  Although I shall no longer attempt to influence or control your political sympathies, I shall not allow you to indulge them where in any way they seem to imply my sanction.  But so little do I oppose your liberty, that you are free to rejoin your political companions whenever you choose to do so on your own responsibility.  But I must first know from your own lips whether your sympathies are purely political—­or a name for something else?”