re at the frozen world of winter, and Prescott saw that a
purpose was forming in her mind. It was a purpose bold and desperate,
but he knew that it would fail and so he spoke. He pointed out to her
the lines of defenses around Richmond, and the wilderness beyond all,
buried under a cold that chained sentinels even to their fires; she
would surely perish, even if she passed the watch.

"But if I were taken," she said, "I should be taken alone and they would
know nothing of Miss Grayson."

"But I should never give up hope," he said. "After all, the hunted may
hide, if warned, when the hunter is coming."

She gave him a glance, luminous, grateful, so like a shaft of light
passing from one to another that it set Prescott's blood to leaping.

"Captain Prescott," she said, "I really owe you thanks."

Prescott felt as if he had been repaid, and afterward in the coolness of
his own exclusive company he was angry with himself for the feeling--but
she stirred his curiosity; he was continually conscious of a desire to
know what manner of woman she was--to penetrate this icy mist, as it
were, in which she seemed to envelop herself.

There was now no pretext for him to stay longer, but he glanced at the
fire which had burned lower than ever, only two coals hugging each other
in the feeble effort to give forth heat. Prescott was standing beside a
little table and unconsciously he rested his right hand upon it. But he
slipped the hand into his pocket, and when he took it out and rested it
upon the table again there was something between the closed fingers.

Miss Grayson returned at this moment to the room and looked inquiringly
at the two.

"Miss Catherwood will tell you all that I have said to her," said
Prescott, "and I bid you both adieu."

When he lifted his hand from the table he left upon it what the fingers
had held, but neither of the women noticed the action.

Prescott slipped into the street, looking carefully to see that he was
not observed, and annoyed because he had to do so; as always his heart
revolted at hidden work. But Richmond was cold and desolate, and he went
back to the heart of the city, unobserved, meaning to find Winthrop, who
always knew the gossip, and to learn if any further steps had been taken
in the matter of the stolen documents.

He found the editor with plenty of time on his hands and an abundant
inclination to talk. Yes, there was something. Mr. Sefton, so he heard,
meant to make the matt