MY LADY OF THE SOUTH
duty. If Lieutenant King can clear himself I will be first to take his hand." His fingers dropped to the butt of his revolver. "You are my prisoner; unclasp your belt."
He had not drawn his weapon, yet he might as well have had it pointed at my head, as the slightest hostile movement on my part would have been met instantly. Yet I stood motionless, speechless, with hands as numb as my brain, staring into his face which was as stern and unemotional as marble.
"You hear me, sir; unclasp your belt."
"But," I stammered, "I am—"
The girl came between us, her face uplifted, her eyes shining.
"Lieutenant King is my prisoner, not yours," she cried indignantly. "He gave me his parole, and I returned to him his revolvers. He will keep his word to me."
She held out her hands, and, scarcely realizing what I did, impelled to action by the expression of her face, I unclasped the belt, and extended it to her. With the action my calmness seemed to return, my brain cleared.
"Miss Denslow is right," I said quietly, "I am her prisoner on parole, and I keep my pledge to her."
Great as the sacrifice was, the quick flash of her eyes repaid me fully, and I looked beyond her shoulder into Colonel Donald's stern-set face.
"I am helpless to resist, for you are armed and I am not," I said firmly, "but I appeal to you as a soldier to deal fairly with me. I pledge you my word not to attempt an escape, but I wish the privilege of searching the house for evidence to clear me of this charge of murder. You
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