74. LXXIV.
THE SNAKE SCOTCHED.
Fenwick recoiled, and made a step to seize his pistol, which
was lying in its holster on the mantel-piece. I raised my weapon,
directed it at his head, and said to him:
“I give you my word of honor, sir, that if you move another
foot, I will blow your brains out.”
He became livid, and uttered the hoarse growl of a tiger at
bay.
“Who are you?” he cried, with a flash of fury in his bloodshot
eyes.
“You know me perfectly well, as you have already met me.
I see you remember.”
“Your purpose?”
“To arrest you.”
“And by what authority—yes, sir! by what authority is this
intrusion on my premises—this threat with a loaded pistol!”
“By my own. I require no authority to arrest a spy and an
infamous wretch. I know you thoroughly. Resist in the
slightest degree, and, by heavens! I will lay you dead on that
floor!”
Anger faded from the eyes—cunning and treachery took its
place.
“I am at a loss to imagine the meaning of this scene, sir,” he
said, with affected coolness; “you say that you intend to arrest
me: where and before whom am I to be carried?”
“Come with me, and you will see.”
“How am I to go at this hour of the night? In the morning,
if you insist, sir.”
“No—we are going to take a little ride to-night. You will
accompany me instantly—if you have no horse, you will walk.”
He must have seen that no wheedling would avail him.
“I have a horse,” he said hoarsely. “I will go and saddle
him.”
“I will accompany you.”
“Even if I give you my parole, sir, not to attempt to escape?”
“Even if you give me a hundred paroles.”
At this last insult his face grew livid.
“Major Surry, you shall answer for this!”
“Ah! you know me, I see.”
“I do—you shall know me, too!”
And, grinding his teeth audibly, he left the room. I followed
to a small stable behind the house, where a horse stood, and saw
him saddled.
“Mount!” I said, “and ride before me down that path.”
He obeyed, and we had soon reached the spot where my horse
was tied. The woman Parkins had not uttered a single word,
nor did she now appear at the door.
I directed Fenwick to ride on my left, and I never removed
my eyes from him. With such a man, no precautions were too
great.
“Really, sir,” he said, as we rode on, “this is a most remarkable
proceeding. I am at a loss to understand what brought
you into this out-of-the-way place, or induced you to take up the
most unfounded supposition that I am a spy.”
“I will, ere long, enlighten you.”
“Where are you conducting me?”
“You will soon discover.”
“I protest again, sir, against your most unauthorized”—
“You will please spare your remarks—I am tired of the sound
of your voice. I have heard nothing else for the last hour.”
By the light of the moon, which had just risen, I saw him
turn livid; and from that moment he said no more.
More than once his quick glance was directed toward me, as
though to discover if there were any hope of escape. But a
pistol barrel shone in the moonlight—he uttered a sort of growl,
and rode on in silence.
Soon the cavalry camp came in sight. I rode to General
Stuart's head-quarters, and found him just about to stretch himself
upon his red blanket.
“Who is that?” he said.
I dismounted and approached, in company with Fenwick.
“Here is a prisoner, General.”
“Ah. Where did you take him?”
“I will tell you.”
And, leading the General aside, I told him enough to convince
him of Fenwick's dangerous character. The revelation which I
had heard of Mordaunt's private history was, of course, not alluded
to.
“If Mordaunt says he's a spy,” said the General, “the thing
is settled. There is no better or more reliable officer in my
command. Can you bring any specific charge against this
man?”
“Only this—that I heard him, with his own lips, declare that
he was going to set out at daylight for General Pope's head-quarters,
with important intelligence from Richmond.”
“That's more than enough. I will embody your statement in
a communication to the War Department, and send him to Richmond
in the morning, under guard.”
We returned to the spot where Fenwick was standing.
“Well, General,” he said, with an admirable affectation of
candor, “I hope you will not authorize this most singular proceeding.”
He had addressed himself to the wrong person. Stuart had
no patience whatever with people in citizen's dress suspected of
disloyalty.
“I am tired,” was his brief reply.
“But, General, I have been arrested in my house, without
warning, and”—
“I am sleepy,” said Stuart, in tones still briefer.
“I protest, General, with all my power, against”—
“Take this man away, and put him under guard,” said the
General. “Give the sentinel instructions to fire upon him, if he
makes the least movement to escape.”
And Stuart yawned, and stretched himself upon his couch.
Baffled, and overcome with rage, Fenwick turned away, and
was conducted to a fire, where he was placed under guard.
“Keep special watch over this prisoner,” I said to the guard;
“he is dangerous, and will outwit you, if you take your eyes
from him for a moment.”
“Yes, sir—all right, sir,” was the response.
“You have received your instructions?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Kill him, if he attempts to escape.”
The sentinel tried the lock of his carbine, which clicked significantly,
and then laughed.
Unfortunately, I did not pay sufficient attention to another
sound which I afterward remembered—the rattle of gold pieces
in Fenwick's pocket.
