Have they a meeting place

“Good God, Mrs. Wilkes, they’ve all been under suspicion since the beginning—only they’ve been too clever—until tonight! How do I know? I was playing poker tonight with two drunken Yankee captains and they let it out. The Yankees knew there’d be trouble tonight and they’ve prepared for it. The fools have walked into a trap.” 　For a moment it was as though Melanie swayed under the impact of a heavy blow and Rhett’s arm went around her waist to steady her. 　“Don’t tell him! He’s trying to trap you!” cried India, glaring at Rhett. “Didn’t you hear him say he’d been with Yankee officers tonight?” 　Still Rhett did not look at her. His eyes were bent insistently on Melanie’s white face. 　“Tell me. Where did they go? Have they a meeting place?” 　Despite her fear and incomprehension, Scarlett thought she had never seen a blanker, more expressionless face than Rhett’s but evidently Melanie saw something else, something that made her give her trust. She straightened her small body away from the steadying arm and said quietly but with a voice that shook: 　“Out the Decatur road near Shantytown. They meet in the cellar of the old Sullivan plantation—the one that’s half-burned.” 　“Thank you. I’ll ride fast. When the Yankees come here, none of you know anything.” 　He was gone so swiftly, his black cape melting into the night, that they could hardly realize he had been there at all until they heard the spattering of gravel and the mad pounding of a horse going off at full gallop. 　“The Yankees coming here?” cried Pitty and, her small feet turning under her, she collapsed on the sofa, too frightened for tears. 　“What’s it all about? What did he mean? If you don’t tell me I’ll go crazy!” Scarlett laid hands on Melanie and shook her violently as if by force she could shake an answer from her. 　“Mean? It means you’ve probably been the cause of Ashley’s and Mr. Kennedy’s death!” In spite of the agony of fear there was a note of triumph in India’s voice. “Stop shaking Melly. She’s going to faint.” 　“No, I’m not,” whispered Melanie, clutching the back of a chair. 　“My God, my God! I don’t understand! Kill Ashley? Please, somebody tell me—” 　Archie’s voice, like a rusty hinge, cut through Scarlett’s words.