th and his mother hid a little sigh.

Prescott remained at home all the morning, but in the afternoon he went
to Winthrop's newspaper office, having a direct question in mind.

"Has anything more been heard of the stolen papers?" he asked of
Winthrop.

"So far as I can learn, nothing," replied the editor; "but it's
altogether likely that whoever took them has been unable to escape from
the city. Besides, I understand that these plans were not final and the
matter may not be so serious after all."

It seemed to Prescott in a moment of cold reason that the affair might
well end now, but his desire would not have it so. He was seized with a
wish to know more about that house and the woman in it. Who was she, why
was she here, and what would be her fate?

The afternoon passed slowly, and when the night was advanced he set out
upon his errand, resolved that he would not do it, and yet knowing that
he would.

The little house was as silent and dark as ever, doors and shutters
tightly closed. He watched it more than an hour and saw no sign of life.
She must have gone from the city, he thought, and so concluding, he was
about to turn away, when a hand was laid lightly upon his arm. It was
the woman in brown, and the look upon her face was not all of surprise.
It occurred suddenly to Prescott that she had expected him, and he
wondered why. But his first question was rough.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Nothing that I wish," she replied, the faintest trace of humour showing
in her tone; "much that I do not wish. The reproof that your voice
conveys is unwarranted. I have tried again to leave Richmond, but I
cannot get past the outer lines of defenses. I am the involuntary guest
of the rebel capital."

"Hardly that," replied Prescott, still somewhat roughly. He did not
relish her jaunty tone, although he was much relieved to know that she
could not escape. "You came uninvited, and you have no right to complain
because you cannot leave when you wish."

"I see that I am in the presence of a sincere rebel patriot," she said
with irony, "and I did not know before that the words 'rebel' and
'patriot' could go together so easily."

"I think that I should surrender you to the authorities," said Prescott.

"But you will not," she said with conviction. "Your conscience would
reproach you too much."

Prescott was silent, uncertain what to say or to do. The woman annoyed
him, and yet he did not conceal from himself t