He felt an impulse to snarl, Go on! But the first rage and annoyance were chilling into solid hatred. Fanning: he was responsible for this. He, and whoever had been the informant. Dan took a deep breath. “The window,” he said aloud.

The woman’s glance raced to the tall shutters which caged around two sides of the room. “Oh.” Her shoulders sagged again. “You mean—that night in the kitchen. Then you did see someone.”

“It was a face. I didn’t know whose. Just a blur, and then gone away. I thought it was only a tramp—they go past here, sometimes. Army deserters and … it wasn’t a tramp.”

“Do you know who it was?”

“It’s all come back; I puzzled, and I couldn’t understand why he—There is a man in town named Quagger. Perhaps you don’t know who he is.”

She said, wretchedly, “He worked for Mr. Fanning. Years! I know—I’ve heard them speak of him, often. Mr. Fanning said that he was a good man, a church man, but a sympathizer with the south, and so he discharged him. I thought—oh, it was absurd—I thought it might be Mrs. Knouse.”

“No. That fellow Quagger … He was staring at me.”

“Why would he be at the window?”

“Like most of the dolts in this village, he could not understand how I refused to enter the army unless I felt as he did. He approached me, to discuss the matter. I was angry. I—laid hands on him. Perhaps he came to try to do some harm.” Bale paused for a moment, thinking rapidly. “No, I think I’ve got it. Elijah was here to tell me about the militia and the new citizens’ army. He must have followed Elijah here; later he saw you and me come into the kitchen—”

The girl’s hand strayed across her forehead, rubbing back the damp surf of her hair. “I used to pity women who were talked about. I’m glad I did pity them. Now I can be more charitable with myself.”

“He had the courage of his convictions, at least. Quagger had. He signed his name to the letter.” Dan’s shadow blocked hugely ahead of him as he came toward her. He lifted her limp hands from the chair-back, and put his arm around her. Irene’s body seemed to surrender inside its damp wrappings, but her face turned away. “Oh, don’t,” she cried. “I’m too stained, too maligned and—The Fanning! I have to go on—living there, feeling this—”

He swore in a raw whisper … his arms tighter and tighter, drawing her loins against his: “You have to do nothing of the sort. We’ll go. I swear that you must never enter that house again. We’ll go, at once. I’ve money here, in a belt. Write to Tyler—we can post the letter once we’re gone.”