He followed her light step up three flights of stairs into the attic. She pushed aside an old-fashioned wardrobe and opened a small door of plain pine boards about four feet in height which led to the darkened space beneath the roof.
She stooped and entered and he followed. A small, neat room was revealed eight feet high beside the inner wall, with ceiling sloping to three feet on the opposite side. An iron safe was fitted into the space beside the chimney and covered skillfully by a door completely cased in brick. The device was so perfect it was impossible to detect the fact that it was not a part of the chimney, each alternate layer of bricks fitted exactly into the place chiseled out for it in the wall of the chimney itself.
Socola examined the arrangement with care.
"A most skillful piece of work!" he exclaimed.
"I laid those bricks in that door casing with my own hand. The old safe has been there since my grandfather's day. This is your room, sir. That safe is for your important papers. You can spend the night here in safety when necessary. My house has been offered to the Government as the headquarters of its secret service. I have in this safe an important document for you."
She opened it and handed Socola a sealed envelope addressed:
"Signor Henrico Socola, Richmond, Virginia."
He broke the seal and read the order from the new Bureau of Military Information placing him in command of its Richmond office.
He offered the paper to the little woman who held the candle for him to read.
"I know its contents," she said, observing him keenly. "The Government has chosen wisely. You can render invaluable service--"
She paused and looked at Socola with a curious smile.
"But one and she has just arrived with the Presidential party--Miss Jennie Barton--"
"Wonderful!" the little woman went on eagerly. "Her father is on the staff of Jefferson Davis. Old Barton is a loud-mouthed fool who can't keep a secret ten minutes. You must make love to his daughter--"
"Absolutely. You can't remain in Richmond indefinitely without a better excuse than your unofficial connection with the Ministry of Sardinia. You are young. You are handsome. All Southern girls have sweethearts--all Southern boys. They can't understand the boy who hasn't. You'll be suspected at once unless you comply with the custom of the country."