It was stirring times，that black and bitter night.Things had leaked out，and the whole garrison was on the alert.The sentinels were trebled，and nobody could move，outside or in，without being brought to a stand with a musket leveled at his head.However，Webb and I were less concerned now than we had previously been，because of the fact that the conspiracy must necessarily be in a pretty crippled condition，since so many of its principals were in our clutches.
I determined to be at No.166in good season，capture and gag B.B.，and be on hand for the rest when they arrived.At about a quarter past one in the morning I crept out of the fortress with half a dozen stalwart and gamy U.S.regulars at my heels，and the boy Wicklow，with his hands tied behind him.I told him we were going to No.166，and that if I found he had lied again and was misleading us，he would have to show us the right place or suffer the consequences.
We approached the tavern stealthily and reconnoitered.A light was burning in the small barroom，the rest of the house was dark.I tried the front door；it yielded，and we softly entered，closing the door behind us.Then we removed our shoes，and I led the way to the barroom.The German landlord sat there，asleep in his chair.I woke him gently，and told him to take off his boots and precede us，warning him at the same time to utter no sound.He obeyed without a murmur，but evidently he was badly frightened.I ordered him to lead the way to 166.We ascended two or three flights of stairs as softly as a file of cats；and then，having arrived near the farther end of a long hall，we came to a door through the glazed transom of which we could discern the glow of a dim light from within.The landlord felt for me in the dark and whispered to me that that was 166.I tried the door—it was locked on the inside.I whispered an order to one of my biggest soldiers；we set our ample shoulders to the door,and with one heave we burst it from its hinges.I caught a half-glimpse of a figure in a bed—saw its head dart toward the candle；out went the light and we were in pitch darkness.With one big bound I lit on that bed and pinned its occupant down with my knees.My prisoner struggled fiercely，but I got a grip on his throat with my left hand，and that was a good assistance to my knees in holding him down.Then straightway I snatched out my revolver，cocked it，and laid the cold barrel warningly against his cheek.
“Now somebody strike a light!”said I.“I've got him safe.”
It was done.The flame of the match burst up.I looked at my captive，and，by George，it was a young woman!
I let go and got off the bed，feeling pretty sheepish.Everybody stared stupidly at his neighbor.Nobody had any wit or sense left，so sudden and overwhelming had been the surprise.The young woman began to cry，and covered her face with the sheet.The landlord said，meekly：
“My daughter，she has been doing something that is not right，nicht wahr？”
“Your daughter？Is she your daughter？”
“Oh，yes，she is my daughter.She is just to-night come home from Cincinnati a little bit sick.”
“Confound it，that boy has lied again.This is not the right 166；this is not B.B.Now，Wicklow，you will find the correct 166for us，or—hello!where is that boy？”
Gone，as sure as guns!And，what is more，we failed to find a trace of him.Here was an awful predicament.I cursed my stupidity in not tying him to one of the men；but it was of no use to bother about that now.What should I do in the present circumstances?—that was the question.That girl might be B.B.，after all.I did not believe it，but still it would not answer to take unbelief for proof.So I finally put my men in a vacant room across the hall from 166，and told them to capture anybody and everybody that approached the girl's room，and to keep the landlord with them，and under strict watch，until further orders.Then I hurried back to the fort to see if all was right there yet.
Yes，all was right.And all remained right.I stayed up all night to make sure of that.Nothing happened.I was unspeakably glad to see the dawn come again，and be able to telegraph The Department that the Stars and Stripes still floated over Fort Trumbull.
An immense pressure was lifted from my breast.Still I did not relax vigilance，of course，nor effort,either；the case was too grave for that.I had up my prisoners，one by one，and harried them by the hour，trying to get them to confess，but it was a failure.They only gnashed their teeth and tore their hair，and revealed nothing.
