who feels the trap snap down

As the harsh rapid knocking sounded at the door, she looked at Melanie and saw come over the small, strained face a new expression, an expression as blank as she had just seen on Rhett Butler’s face, the bland blank look of a poker player bluffing a game with only two deuces. 　“Archie, open the door,” she said quietly. 　Slipping his knife into his boot top and loosening the pistol in his trouser band, Archie stumped over to the door and flung it open. Pitty gave a little squeak, like a mouse who feels the trap snap down, as she saw massed in the doorway, a Yankee captain and a squad of bluecoats. But the others said nothing. Scarlett saw with the faintest feeling of relief that she knew this officer. He was Captain Tom Jaffery, one of Rhett’s friends. She had sold him lumber to build his house. She knew him to be a gentleman. Perhaps, as he was a gentleman, he wouldn’t drag them away to prison. He recognized her instantly and, taking off his hat, bowed, somewhat embarrassed. 　“Good evening, Mrs. Kennedy. And which of you ladies is Mrs. Wilkes?” 　“I am Mrs. Wilkes,” answered Melanie, rising and for all her smallness, dignity flowed from her. “And to what do I owe this intrusion?” 　The eyes of the captain flickered quickly about the room, resting for an instant on each face, passing quickly from their faces to the table and the hat rack as though looking for signs of male occupancy. 　“I should like to speak to Mr. Wilkes and Mr. Kennedy, if you please.” 　“They are not here,” said Melanie, a chill in her soft voice. 　“Are you sure?” 　“Don’t you question Miz Wilkes’ word,” said Archie, his beard bristling. 　“I beg your pardon, Mrs. Wilkes. I meant no disrespect. If you give me your word, I will not search the house.” 　“You have my word. But search if you like. They are at a meeting downtown at Mr. Kennedy’s store.”