MY LADY OF THE SOUTH
"A thin, haggard face, with wild eyes, and straggly gray hair. Did Miss Denslow tell you? She saw her also."
"I have n't seen the lady," his voice grown petulant, "nor been to the house. A negro told me." He stopped, gaining control of himself with an effort. "But I'll see to that later. Do you know what I'm going to do with you?"
"I know what you threaten."
"And what I threaten I carry out: I am going to hang you to that tree yonder as a Yankee spy."
I hated and despised the fellow so thoroughly that I never moved a muscle, except to smile in his face.
"That will be a brave deed. Lieutenant Dunn, but one you are no doubt capable of."
"You question my courage? You think I will not dare?"
"My thought of you is of no interest," I returned, for the instant losing temper in face of the man's conceit. "You possess power, and it requires no courage to command your men to hang me on a false charge. But there is one thing you did not dare do—confess your purpose to Jean Denslow."
"This has nothing to do with her. Oh, I know the trick you played on the girl, and believe she will rejoice to be thus easily rid of you. You may not be a spy, but you have done a spy's work and are going to meet a spy's fate. Have you any message to leave?"
"None; and if I had, I would not trust you with it."
His white teeth gleamed beneath his moustache.
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