I stepped back to where I could see the full length of
the cellar; the trap door leading up into the kitchen stood wide open.
Convinced this must be the way Burke had come down, I walked over to the
narrow stairs, and thrust my head up through the opening. There were six
men in the room, and they stared at me in startled surprise, but came
instantly to their feet.
"When did Burke go down cellar?" I asked briefly.
The man nearest turned to his fellows, and then back toward me, feeling
compelled to answer.
"'Bout ten minutes ago, wasn't it, boys?"
"Not mor 'n that, sir."
"What was he after?"
"Well, we got sorter dry after that las' scrimmage, an' Jack here said
he reckoned thar'd be something ter drink down stairs; he contended that
most o' these yer ol' houses had plenty o' good stuff hid away. Finally
Burke volunteered to go down, an' see what he could find. We was waitin'
fer him to com' back. What's happened ter Burke, sir?"
"Knifed."
"Killed! Burke killed! Who did it?"
"That is exactly what I should like to find out. There is some one in
this house masquerading in our uniform who must be insane. He killed a
Confederate captain this morning, crushed in his skull with a revolver
butt, and now he has put a knife into Burke.
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