She looked scared. “I’ll do whatever you say.”

Kobe said: “I’ll go and see who the visitors are. If it’s the search party, I’ll try to slow them down.”

Peg held Mack’s hand as they hurried through the cold fields and across the damp lawns in the gray light. The dogs came loping down from the porch to meet them. Roy licked Mack’s hand and Rex. sniffed curiously at Peg, but they made no noise.

Doors were never locked here, and Mack led Peg in through the back entrance. They crept up the stairs. Mack looked out of the landing window and saw, in the black-and-white tones of dawn, five or six men and some dogs coming up from the direction of the river. As he watched, the party split: two men headed for the house and the rest turned toward the slave quarters with the dogs.

Mack went to Lizzie’s bedroom door. Don’t let me down now, he thought. He tried the door.

It was locked.

He tapped gently, fearful of waking Jay in the next room.

Nothing happened.

He tapped harder.

He heard soft footsteps, then Lizzie’s voice came clearly through the door: “Who’s there?”

“Hush! It’s Mack!” he whispered.

“What the devil are you doing?”

“It’s not what you think—open the door!”

He heard a key turn, and the door opened. In the gloom he could hardly see her. She turned back into the room, and he stepped inside, drawing Peg behind him. The room was in darkness.

Her footsteps crossed the room and a blind was raised. In the pale light he saw her, wearing some kind of dressing gown, looking deliciously tousled. “Explain yourself, fast,” she said. “And it had better be good.” Then she saw Peg, and her attitude changed. “You’re not alone.”

“Peg Knapp,” he said.

“I remember,” Lizzie said. “How are you, Peggy?”

“I’m in trouble again,” Peg said.

Mack explained. “She was sold to a hill farmer who tried to rape her.”

“Oh, dear God.”

“She killed the man.”

“You poor child,” Lizzie said. She put her arms around Peg. “You poor child.”

“The sheriff is looking for her. He’s outside now, searching the slave quarters.” Mack looked at Peg’s thin face and saw in his mind the gallows in Fredericksburg. “We have to hide her!” he said.

Lizzie said: “You just leave the sheriff to me.”

“What do you mean?” Mack said. He got nervous when she tried to take charge.

“I’ll explain to him that Peg was defending herself against rape.”

When Lizzie was sure of something she often imagined that no one could disagree with her. It was a vexing trait. Mack shook his head impatiently. “That’s no good, Lizzie. The sheriff will say the court has to decide whether she’s guilty, not you.”

“Then she can stay here until her trial.”

Lizzie’s ideas were so maddeningly airy that Mack had to force himself to speak calmly and reasonably. “You can’t stop a sheriff arresting someone accused of murder, no matter what you think of the rights and wrongs of the case.”

“Perhaps she should just stand trial. If she’s innocent they can’t convict her—”

“Lizzie, be realistic!” Mack said in exasperation. “What Virginian court is going to acquit a convict who kills her owner? They’re all terrified of being attacked by their slaves. Even if they believe her story they’ll hang her, just to frighten the rest.”

She looked angry, and she was about to make some retort when Peg started to cry. That made Lizzie hesitate. She bit her lip then said: “What do you think we should do?”

One of the dogs growled outside, and Mack heard the voice of a man talking to it and calming it. “I want you to hide Peg in here while they search the place,” he said to Lizzie. “Will you do it?”

He watched her face. If you say no, he thought, I’m in love with the wrong woman.

“Of course I’ll do it,” she said. “What do you think I am?”

He smiled happily, flooded with relief. He loved her so much he had to fight back tears. He swallowed hard. “I think you’re wonderful,” he said huskily.

They had been talking in low voices, and now Mack heard a sound from Jay’s bedroom on the other side of the wall. He had a lot more to do before Peg was safe. “I must get out of here,” he said. “Good luck!” He left.

He stepped across the landing and ran lightly down the stairs. As he reached the hall he thought he heard Jay’s bedroom door open, but he did not look back.

He stopped in the hall and took a deep breath. I’m a house servant here and I have no idea what the sheriff might want, he told himself. He pasted a polite smile to his face and opened the door.

Two men were on the porch. They wore the dress of prosperous Virginians: riding boots, long waistcoats and three-cornered hats. Both carried pistols in leather cases with shoulder straps. They smelled of rum: they had been fortifying themselves against the cold night air.

Mack stood squarely in the doorway, to discourage them from entering the house. “Good morning, gentlemen,” he said. He found his heart was beating fast. He struggled to keep his voice relaxed and calm. “This looks like a search party.”

The taller of the two said: “I’m the sheriff of Spotsylvania County, and I’m looking for a girl by die name of Peggy Knapp.”

“I saw the dogs. Have you sent them down to the slave quarters?”

“Yes.”

“Good thinking, Sheriff. That way you’ll catch the niggers asleep and they won’t be able to conceal the fugitive.”

“I’m glad you approve,” the sheriff said with a touch of sarcasm. “We’ll just step inside.”

A convict had no choice when given orders by a free man, and Mack had to stand aside and let them into the hall. He still hoped they would not think it necessary to search the house.

“How come you’re up?” the sheriff said with a hint of suspicion in his voice. “We expected to have to wake everyone.”

“I’m an early riser.”

The man grunted noncommittally. “Is your master at home?”

“Yes.”

“Take us to him.”

Mack did not want them to go upstairs—they would be uncomfortably close to Peg. “I believe I heard Mr. Jamisson moving around,” he said. “Shall I ask him to come down?”

“No—I don’t want to put him to the trouble of getting dressed.”

Mack cursed under his breath. Evidently the sheriff was determined to take everyone by surprise if possible. But he could not argue. He said, “This way, please,” and led them up the stairs.

He knocked on Jay’s door. A moment later Jay opened it, wearing a wrap over his nightshirt. “What the devil is all this?” he said irritably.

“I’m Sheriff Abraham Barton, Mr. Jamisson. I apologize for disturbing you, but we’re searching for the murderer of Burgo Marler. Does the name Peggy Knapp mean anything to you?”

Jay looked hard at Mack. “It certainly does. The girl was always a thief and I’m not surprised she’s turned into a killer. Have you asked McAsh here if he knows where she is?”

Barton looked at Mack in surprise. “So you’re McAsh! You didn’t mention it.”

“You didn’t ask,” Mack said.

Barton was not satisfied with that. “Did you know I was coming here this morning?”

“No.”

Jay said suspiciously: “Then why are you up so early?”

“When I worked in your father’s coal mine I used to start at two o’clock in the morning. Now I always wake early.”

“I’ve never noticed.”

“You’re never up.”

“Less of your damned insolence.”

Barton said to Mack: “When did you last see Peggy Knapp?”

“When I disembarked from the Rosebud half a year ago.”

The sheriff turned back to Jay. “The niggers may be concealing her. We’ve brought dogs.”

Jay waved a generous hand. “Go ahead and do whatever you need to.”

“We should search the house, too.”

Mack caught his breath. He had been hoping they would not think that necessary.

Jay frowned. “It’s not likely the child is in here.”

“Still, for the sake of thoroughness …”