e willing to spare me the indignity of
marching into camp at the muzzle of your pistol, I promise you that I
will neither resist, escape, nor remonstrate, but will submit to
whatever penalty may be imposed."

The officer lowered his pistol, uncocked it, and thrust it into its
place in his belt. Brune advanced a step, extending his right hand.

"It is the hand of a traitor and a spy," said the officer coldly, and
did not take it. The other bowed.

"Come," said the captain, "let us go to camp; you shall not die until
to-morrow morning."

He turned his back upon his prisoner, and these two enigmatical men
retraced their steps and soon passed the sentinel, who expressed his
general sense of things by a needless and exaggerated salute to his
commander.

IV

Early on the morning after these events the two men, captor and captive,
sat in the tent of the former. A table was between them on which lay,
among a number of letters, official and private, which the captain had
written during the night, the incriminating papers found upon the spy.
That gentleman had slept through the night in an adjoining tent,
unguarded. Both, having breakfasted, were now smoking.

"Mr. Brune," said Captain Hartroy, "you probably do not understand why I
recognized you in your disguise, nor how I was aware of your name."

"I have not sought to learn, Captain," the prisoner said with quiet
dignity.

"Nevertheless I should like you to know--if the story will not offend.
You will perceive that my knowledge of you goes back to the autumn of
1861. At that time you were a private in an Ohio regiment--a brave and
trusted soldier. To the surprise and grief of your officers and comrades
you deserted and went over to the enemy. Soon afterward you were
captured in a skirmish, recognized, tried by court-martial and sentenced
to be shot. Awaiting the execution of the sentence you were confined,
unfettered, in a freight car standing on a side track of a railway."

"At Grafton, Virginia," said Brune, pushing the ashes from his cigar
with the little finger of the hand holding it, and without looking up.

"At Grafton, Virginia," the captain repeated. "One dark and stormy night
a soldier who had just returned from a long, fatiguing march was put on
guard over you. He sat on a cracker box inside the car, near the door,
his rifle loaded and the bayonet fixed. You sat in a corner and his
orders were to kill you if you attempted to rise."

"But if I _asked_ t