beyond. He was putting up his glass, when the dull boom of cannon in
the extreme western limit of the horizon attracted his attention. By the
still gleaming sky he could see a long gray line stealing up from
the valley from the distant rear of the headquarters to join the main
column. They were the missing supports! His heart leaped. He held the
key of the mystery now. The one imperfect detail of the enemy's plan was
before him. The supports, coming later from the west, had only seen
the second signal from the window--when Miss Faulkner had replaced
the vase--and had avoided his position. It was impossible to limit the
effect of this blunder. If the young girl who had thus saved him had
reached the division commander with his message in time, he might
be forewarned, and even profit by it. His own position would be less
precarious, as the enemy, already engaged in front, would be unable to
recover their position in the rear and correct the blunder. The bulk
of their column had already streamed past him. If defeated, there
was always the danger that it might be rolled back upon him--but he
conjectured that the division commander would attempt to prevent the
junction of the supports with the main column by breaking between them,
crowding them from the ridge, and joining him. As the last stragglers
of the rear guard swept by, Brant's bugles were already recalling the
skirmishers. He redoubled his pickets, and resolved to wait and watch.

And there was the more painful duty of looking after the wounded and the
dead. The larger rooms of the headquarters had already been used as a
hospital. Passing from cot to cot, recognizing in the faces now drawn
with agony, or staring in vacant unconsciousness, the features that he
had seen only a few hours before flushed with enthusiasm and excitement,
something of his old doubting, questioning nature returned. Was there
no way but this? How far was HE--moving among them unscathed and
uninjured--responsible?

And if not he--who then? His mind went back bitterly to the old days of
the conspiracy--to the inception of that struggle which was bearing
such ghastly fruit. He thought of his traitorous wife, until he felt
his cheeks tingle, and he was fain to avert his eyes from those of his
prostrate comrades, in a strange fear that, with the clairvoyance of
dying men, they should read his secret.

It was past midnight when, without undressing, he threw himself upon his
bed in the little con