“Faulconer Court House.” The young man heard and accepted the note of conciliation. He guessed that other strangers had been accosted by this mob, then questioned and released, and that if he kept his head then he too might be spared whatever fate awaited the middle-aged man already secured to the railings.

“Faulconer Court House?” the tall man asked.

“Yes.”

“Your name?”

“Baskerville.” He had just read the name on a fascia board of a shop across the street: “Bacon and Baskerville,” the board read, and the young man snatched the name in relief. “Nathaniel Baskerville.” He embellished the lie with his real Christian name.

“You don’t sound like a Virginian, Baskerville,” the tall man said.

“Only by adoption.” His vocabulary, like the books he had been carrying, betrayed that the young man was educated.

“So what do you do in Faulconer County, boy?” another man asked.

“I work for Washington Faulconer.” Again the young man spoke defiantly, hoping the name would serve as a talisman for his protection.

“Best let him go, Don!” a man called.

“Let him be!” a woman intervened. She did not care that the boy was claiming the protection of one of Virginia’s wealthiest landowners; rather she was touched by the misery in his eyes as well as by the unmistakable fact that the crowd’s captive was very good-looking. Women had always been quick to notice Nathaniel, though he himself was too inexperienced to realize their interest.

“You’re a Yankee, boy, aren’t you?” the taller man challenged.

“Not any longer.”

“So how long have you been in Faulconer County?” That was the tanner again.

“Long enough.” The lie was already losing its cohesion. Nathaniel had never visited Faulconer County, though he had met the county’s richest inhabitant, Washington Faulconer, whose son was his closest friend.

“So what town lies halfway between here and Faulconer Court House?” the tanner, still wanting revenge, demanded of him.

“Answer him!” the tall man snapped.

Nathaniel was silent, betraying his ignorance.

“He’s a spy!” a woman whooped.