CHAPTER VI.
THE BOOT ON THE OTHER LEG.
LONG before the imperial, and now imperious, lady announced the conclusion of the whole matter, Somers realized that he was the victim of a conspiracy; that he had been invited to dinner in order to procure his capture. He had listened to the fallacious argument embodied in the five questions, and was prepared to refute it if occasion required. He had no difficulty in perceiving that he had got into trouble. The house was surrounded by a squad of rebel cavalry, and it would be folly to attempt to fight his way through them.
Nevertheless, Somers had coolly and decisively made up his mind not to be a prisoner. He had been invited into the house under the guise of friendship. The lady had pretended to cherish an excellent feeling, amounting almost to admiration, towards him; had treated him as a friend, and detained him until the cavalry could be sent for. The trap had been set, and he had certainly fallen into it. The circumstances were not at all like those under which he had entered the house of Dr. Scoville; he had not been invited there; he had gone in as a hunted fugitive, and the host had received and taken care of him without any pledge, expressed or implied, on his part, or that of Captain de Banyan, who accompanied him. His conscience, therefore, did not reproach him for any violation of the law of hospitality.
“You are a prisoner, Captain Somers, I repeat,” said Maud—“my prisoner, if you please.”
“Miss Hasbrouk, I have always cherished a feeling of admiration and regard for the ladies; but I regret, in the present instance, to be compelled to contradict you. I am not a prisoner, if you will excuse me for saying so,” replied Somers, calmly.
“The house is surrounded by Confederate cavalry,” added she. “It only remains for me to call them in and end this scene.”
“Allow me to observe that the part which remains will be infinitely more difficult than the part already performed.”
“Am I to understand, Captain Somers, that you propose to resist twenty men, who stand ready to capture you?” demanded the lady, with a triumphant smile.
“Excuse me if I evade that question also for the present. Perhaps you will still further pardon me, if, in this delicate and difficult business, I venture to ask you a few questions, which you will answer or evade, as you please.”
“With great pleasure I submit to be questioned, Captain Somers,” answered she, with a merry twinkle in her eyes, which told how much she still enjoyed the “situation.”
“Thank you, Miss Hasbrouk. You are one of those brawling rebel women who have done so much to keep up the spirits of the chivalry in this iniquitous rebellion. You are one of the feminine Don Quixotes who have unsexed themselves in the cause of treason and slavery.”
“I will not hear this, if you will, Maud. Sir!” exclaimed the major, advancing towards the bold and ungallant speaker, “your foul mouth—”
“Stand where you are, Major Riggleston!” said Somers, fiercely, as he pointed a pistol at his head. “If you stir a step, or open your mouth again, you are a dead man!”
The major seemed to be taken all aback by this decided demonstration. He had no pistol about him; and though he was a “fighting man,” Somers was pretty well satisfied that he would “hold still” until it was safe for him to move. Judging from her looks, Maud seemed to be taking a slightly different view of the situation.
“Excuse my rude words, Miss Hasbrouk,” continued the captain, with a gentle inclination of the head. “As this is your affair, I will thank this gentleman not to interfere. Shall I repeat what I said before?”
“It is not necessary,” replied she, coldly.
“Then we will proceed. First question: Did I correctly state your position?”
“Is a woman who strengthens the hearts of those who are fighting for the right to exist—”
“First question evaded,” interposed Somers. “You invited me to this house; and, by the laws of hospitality, which even the heathen respect, you were impliedly pledged to treat me as a friend, and not as a foe. Second question: Is this so?”
“Did you learn to respect the law of hospitality at Dr. Scoville’s?” sneered she.
“Second question evaded. Dr. Scoville made no pledges to me, nor I to him. No person can blame me for leaving his house when I got ready. Accepting his hospitality and his kindness did not pledge me to go to a Confederate dungeon, where prisoners are systematically murdered. To proceed: By your own confession you invited me to dine in order to make me a prisoner, and take my life by having me hanged as a spy. If you sought to capture me by a trick, would it not—third question—be equally fair for me to escape by a trick?”
“But it is utterly impossible for you to escape,” replied she, glancing through the window at the cavalry on the lawn.
“Third question evaded. You are a lady; and as such, under ordinary circumstances, you are entitled to be treated with the delicacy and consideration due to your sex. But as you have ceased to be a non-combatant,—which you were sorely against your will, and are now actively engaged in the war, conducting the business of capturing a prisoner,—under these circumstances, would it not be entirely fair for me to treat you as a combatant, precisely the same as though you had not unsexed yourself, and were a man?”
“You seem to have already forgotten what is due to a lady,” replied she, her cheek flushed with anger.
“Fourth question evaded.”
“Sir, I decline to hear any more of this coarse abuse!” exclaimed she, stamping her foot.
“Indulge me for one moment more, and I will endeavor as much as possible to avoid talking through my nose, and making pretensions as a hero of the Yankee army, or a down-east pink of chivalry.”
Perhaps the imperial beauty thought that these expressions, borrowed from her own elegant discourse, were not especially refined for a lady to use; it may be that they sounded coarse on a repetition, but she made no acknowledgment to that effect.
“Your silence consents: thank you. Miss Hasbrouk, you speak with chivalrous contempt of what you are pleased to term ‘Yankee tricks;’ at the same time, you were thrown into spasms of laughter by the apparent success of one of your own tricks. Now, permit me to ask whether you would equally appreciate—fifth question—a trick quite as smart as your own?”
“You have insulted me long enough, sir!” replied she, haughtily. “Now, sir—”
“Fifth question evaded. I have no more to ask.”
“Now, sir, I will hand you over to your masters,” said she, moving a step towards the door.
“Excuse me if I take the liberty to decline being handed over to my masters,” said Somers, stepping between her and the door, and now occupying a position between the lady and the discomfited major.
“Sir, what do you mean?” demanded the lady, her bosom heaving with angry emotions, as she found herself confronted by the young officer, who looked as firm and immovable as a mountain of granite.
“I mean all that I say, and much more,” answered he, with an emphasis which she could not fail to understand.
“Sir, I desire to pass out at that door.”
“I positively forbid your passing out at that door.”
“Sir!” gasped she, almost overcome by her angry passions.
“Miss Hasbrouk!” replied he, bowing.
“You are no gentleman!”
“When I came here I regarded you as a lady, and one of the brightest ornaments of your sex. What I think now I shall keep to myself.”
“I shall go mad!”
“I hope not; though I fear you have been tending in that direction for the last hour.”
“Major Riggleston!” cried she, turning to her lover, “will you stand there and permit me to be insulted in this manner?”
“Major Riggleston will stand there. If he moves hand or foot, or opens his mouth to speak, I will blow his brains out. He is a villain and a traitor, and of course he is a coward!”
The major winced under these strong words; but there was death in the sharp, snapping eye of the young officer, and he dared not move hand or foot, or even speak. Perhaps he thought that, as the lady had insisted on managing the affair herself, it was quite proper that she should be indulged to the end.
“I can endure this no longer!” exclaimed Maud, as she took another step towards the door for the purpose of calling in the troopers.
“Stop, Miss Hasbrouk!” said Somers, pointing a pistol at her head with his right hand, while that in his left was ready to dispose of the major.
THE BOOT ON THE OTHER LEG.—Page 73.
“Is it possible that you can raise your weapon against a woman?” cried she, shrinking back from the gaping muzzle of the pistol.
“Let us understand each other, Miss Hasbrouk. I am not to be captured. If you attempt to leave the room, or to call in the rebel soldiers, I will shoot you, as gently and considerately as the deed can be done; but I will shoot you, as surely as you stand there and I stand here.”
He cocked the pistol. She heard the click of the hammer. She stood in mortal terror of her life.
“You forget that I am a woman,” said she, in tones of alarm.
“I did not forget it until you had forgotten it yourself,” answered Somers. “You have abused and insulted me. Under the guise of friendship you are attempting to hand me over to death by my enemies. Did you think I would be dropped gently into the arms of the rebels, and be hung as a spy? If you insist on pursuing your plan to the end, it will be death to you or death to me. I am not quite willing to die for any rebel woman, and especially not for one who is seeking my life. It would grieve me to shoot one so fair and fascinating as Miss Hasbrouk; I should remember it with sorrow to the end of my days; but my duty to myself and my country requires the sacrifice, and I would shoot you if it broke my heart.”
“Are you in earnest, Captain Somers?” asked she, still struggling under the violence of her emotions.
“Maud,” said the major.
“Silence, sir!” added the captain, sternly. “Miss Hasbrouk, I am in earnest. The situation has changed. Would you like a photographer to preserve the scene for future inspection?”
“You would not kill me?”
“I would, as you would kill me.”
“But the soldiers are impatient outside, and they may come in without my call,” suggested she, glancing at the window, while every muscle in her frame shook with terror.
“If they do, it will cost you your life, unless they are more reasonable than you are.”
“Good Heaven! You mean to murder me?”
“Not if I can help it. When I fire, it will be from a solemn sense of duty; for your cutthroats would hang me to the nearest tree if they knew as much of me as you do.”
“What shall I do?” asked she, wildly, as she looked around the room.
“Now you are reasonable. Let your servant bring pen, ink, and paper.”
She ordered the man who had waited on the table to bring the required articles, and Somers gave him a charge to be discreet as he left the room. In a few moments he returned with the writing materials, and laid them on the table. The negro was even more terrified than the lady, and there was no fear that he would venture upon any bold enterprise.
“Now, Major Riggleston, sit down at the table,” said Somers. “You will remain where you are, Miss Hasbrouk.”
“What am I to do?” asked the major.
“You will write what I dictate. Did you call this cavalry?”
“I did.”
“Then you are a loyal Marylander with a vengeance, and a worthy officer of the Maryland Home Brigade; but I will warrant there is not another such a scoundrel in the organization.”
“That is a personal insult, for which—”
“Silence, sir. Who commands the cavalry outside?”
“A sergeant.”
“How many men has he?”
“Twenty.”
“Now write. ‘Sergeant: The matter upon which I called you was all a mistake. Your services will not be required, and you will retire from the house without delay.’ Sign it as you please.”
Somers looked over his shoulder to satisfy himself that the major wrote what he said, and nothing else.
“It is possible we may get through this business without shooting either one of you,” added the captain, as the scribe folded up the note. “Give the paper to the servant.”
“Go to the front door, boy, and deliver this note to the sergeant in command of the squad of cavalry,” continued Somers.
“Yes, sar.”
“Stop a moment. You are not to say a word to him.”
“No, sar.”
“If one of those soldiers should come into the house, it might cost your mistress her life.”
“De Lo’d forbid, massa!”
“Do you understand me, boy?”
“Yes, sar. Dey shan’t come in, massa, no how.”
He departed on his mission. Somers still stood in the attitude for action, and Maud and the major looked as cheap and as chapfallen as though they had not another hope in the world. They waited with even more impatience than the captain for the departure of the cavalry, both of them fearing that some unfortunate accident might bring the desperate young man to the execution of his horrible threat.
The sergeant outside was, luckily, not of an inquiring mind. The clatter of horses’ feet and the clanking of sabres were heard again, and the cavalry dashed down the road to more hopeful scenes.