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"Well, no. It's the horse he captured the time he got the Yankee who had him prisoner."

A sweet color was I. "Yes, that's what I said; Cockerel. Isn't your last name Cockerel?"

His smile darkened. "I am your prisoner," he said, with a sudden splendid stateliness, and right then I guessed who he was.

I was in the sweetest consternation. With the end of her braid once more in my fingers I made her promise to keep the dark secret, and so recited them.

I put on an offended esteem. "My dear sir, you've no call to take offence at me. I'm waiting because my business is too--well, if I must explain, it's--it's too important to be risked except by good safe daylight; that's all."

"Oh, no!" he murmured, "that cannot be!" "I saw her face, Lieutenant, nearer to mine than yours is now. But she did it to help us--oh, but I know that, sir! She came under my window and told me she had done it! She told me to tell you she hadn't thwarted your plan, but only improved on it, and I believe--Lieutenant, if you will hear me patiently through a confession which--" I choked with emotion.

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