We are coming, Father Abra'am, three hundred thousand more,From Mississippi's winding stream and from New England's shore;We leave our ploughs and workshops, our wives and children dear,With hearts too full for utterance, with but a silent tear;We dare not look behind us, but steadfastly before:We are coming, Father Abra'am, three hundred thousand more.You have called us, and we're coming, by Richmond's bloody tideTo lay us down, for Freedom's sake, our brothers' bones beside;Or from foul treason's savage grasp to wrench the murderous blade,And in the face of foreign foes its fragments to parade.Six hundred thousand loyal men and true have gone before;We are coming, Father Abra'am, three hundred thousand more.
We are coming, Father Abra'am, three hundred thousand more,From Mississippi's winding stream and from New England's shore;We leave our ploughs and workshops, our wives and children dear,With hearts too full for utterance, with but a silent tear;We dare not look behind us, but steadfastly before:We are coming, Father Abra'am, three hundred thousand more.
We are coming, Father Abra'am, three hundred thousand more,
From Mississippi's winding stream and from New England's shore;
We leave our ploughs and workshops, our wives and children dear,
With hearts too full for utterance, with but a silent tear;
We dare not look behind us, but steadfastly before:
We are coming, Father Abra'am, three hundred thousand more.
You have called us, and we're coming, by Richmond's bloody tideTo lay us down, for Freedom's sake, our brothers' bones beside;Or from foul treason's savage grasp to wrench the murderous blade,And in the face of foreign foes its fragments to parade.Six hundred thousand loyal men and true have gone before;We are coming, Father Abra'am, three hundred thousand more.
You have called us, and we're coming, by Richmond's bloody tide
To lay us down, for Freedom's sake, our brothers' bones beside;
Or from foul treason's savage grasp to wrench the murderous blade,
And in the face of foreign foes its fragments to parade.
Six hundred thousand loyal men and true have gone before;
We are coming, Father Abra'am, three hundred thousand more.
Goddard promptly joined in the singing with others in the crowd which had collected. Suddenly a heavy hand fell on his shoulder, and facing about he found Lloyd standing behind him.
"Come out of this crowd," said the latter, sternly. In silence the two men walked up the Avenue to Third Street, and Lloyd led his companion into that quieter thoroughfare. Looking to see that no one was near enough to hear what he said, he turned savagely on Goddard.
"I should arrest you at once."
Goddard stared blankly at Lloyd, unable to believe his ears.
"On what charge?" he demanded, hotly.
"Aiding and abetting the enemy."
Goddard's face cleared. "You are crazy," he remarked, tersely.
"Am I? We shall see. I warned you Nancy Newton was a spy."
Goddard's eyes snapped angrily, and his color rose.
"Suppose we leave Miss Newton's name out of the discussion," he said, haughtily; then, in a more friendly tone: "Here I am, happy and carefree, and you appear, like 'Banquo's ghost,' and shout your silly theories, which you admit you can't prove, into my ears."
"My theories do hold water," was the stern reply. "Better for you, you blockhead, if they didn't."
Goddard's face went white. "By heavens! I allow no one to address me in that way. If it wasn't for our long friendship...."; his clenched hands finished the sentence.
"It is owing to our old friendship that I haven't had you arrested, Bob," Lloyd spoke more quietly, realizing he had gone a step too far.
"Then explain what your insinuations mean."
"I will. Half an hour ago you were in front of Old Capitol Prison"—Goddard nodded assent—"helping the sentry make that woman behave herself. Well, it was all a plant."
"A plant?"
"Yes. While you and the sentry were engaged with that woman, Nancy Newton was signaling from an opposite doorway to another prisoner in the same row."
Goddard gazed incredulously at Lloyd. "How do you know?"
"I was following you both down the street, and saw the whole affair. I was too far away to interfere, and by the time I had reached the prison you and your companion were a block away." Goddard stood biting his lip, so Lloyd, after waiting for a reply, continued: "The comedy was well played. Your presence but added realism to it in case passers-by noticed the scene. In some way, she and the woman arranged to engage the sentry's attention while she signaled to the other prisoner; and there you are."
"What are you going to do about it?" asked Goddard; then added stubbornly: "Mind you, Lloyd, I am still convinced Miss Newton is innocent of the grave charge you bring against her. Many Washingtonians have been arrested for various offences and put in the Old Capitol; possibly one of them is a friend of Miss Newton's, and, seeing her standing opposite the prison, seized the opportunity to wave to her." But Lloyd remained obstinately silent, and Goddard repeated his first question, "What are you going to do about it?"
"Arrest her as a suspect. No, on second thoughts, I will leave her free, but watched. Take my word for it, Bob; if you give that clever girl rope enough she will hang herself."
CHAPTER V
A SCRAP OF PAPER
"A penny for your thoughts, Nancy." Mrs. Warren leaned across the table and addressed her friend.
Nancy started guiltily, and her thoughts returned to her surroundings with a rush. Senator Warren, seated on her left, noticed her confusion, and whispered in her ear:
"Blue or gray?"
"Gray," she answered; then colored hotly as she met his amused gaze.
"You did not notice me this morning," continued the senator, lowering his voice so the others could not hear, "and Major Goddard had eyes but for you—small blame to him!"
Nancy drew a long, slow breath of relief, and the carmine receded from her cheeks.
"Major Goddard is very good-looking," she said composedly. "His coloring is a decided relief from the many blond men one meets nowadays. Blue-black hair and gray eyes are an unusual combination."
"Did you see the President to-day, Senator?" inquired their host, Colonel Mitchell, breaking in on the conversation; and Nancy sat back in her chair, glad of a moment's respite in which to collect her thoughts. Her head ached, and she pushed the soft hair from off her forehead with an impatient hand. Would her chaperone never make the move to leave?
Their table was in one corner, and Nancy sat with her back to the other diners. Mrs. Warren and the two men were soon absorbed in a heated argument as they slowly sipped their coffee. Nancy turned impatiently in her seat, and surveyed the animated scene behind her with restless, tired eyes.
Washington, filled with strangers from all sections of the country lying north of Mason and Dixon's line, was a city of perpetual unrest. Besides the soldiers stationed in the encircling camps and fortifications, regiments were continually passing through the capital on their way to and from the front. Statesmen, government contractors, and shoddy politicians haunted hotel lobbies and restaurants.
Gautier's, where many of the old residents and statesmen congregated, was more than usually crowded that night, and the Frenchman had difficulty in supplying the wants of his patrons; so earlier in the evening he had engaged extra waiters to meet the emergency.
The stringed orchestra in the gallery ceased playing, and in the momentary lull Nancy's quick ear caught fragments of conversation between two officers seated at the adjoining table. Interested, she gently edged her chair nearer to the men; then, leaning back, pretended to be absorbed in watching some new arrivals, as Sam, who was earning an honest penny by doing extra work on his night off from Wormley's, deftly removed the dessert plates.
"I tell you, Jim," Nancy heard the older officer say positively, "Grant intends to have Sheridan join him as soon as he breaks winter camp."
"Nonsense, nonsense; the strategical movement would be to have him march south and re-enforce Sherman. That would mean the death knell of the Confederacy."
"You are entirely wrong," returned the first speaker heatedly. "Why, man, look here; suppose this pepper-caster is Richmond, this crust Petersburg, this crumb Lee, and this crumb Grant—now, bring this crumb, Sheridan..." His words were drowned by the strains of "The Girl I Left Behind Me," and the other diners in the room joined in the chorus.
At the conclusion of the song, Mrs. Warren gathered her belongings together, preparatory to departure. Colonel Mitchell, seeing his guests had finished supper, opened his pocketbook and drew out a roll of bank notes. As he thrust the money back into the pocketbook after paying his bill, a small folded piece of paper dropped unseen, except by Nancy, on the floor close beside her chair.
Like a flash she planted her foot squarely on it. Colonel Mitchell had risen to help Mrs. Warren into her wrap; the senator was busy talking to a newcomer. None of them had noticed her quick action. Dare she stoop over and pick up the paper? As she hesitated, their waiter, Sam, returned with the colonel's change. Mitchell waved the tray away impatiently, and the negro stepped back, dropping his napkin over Nancy's foot as he did so.
"Please 'scuse me, missy." Stooping swiftly, he deftly lifted her foot and removed the paper as he picked up the cloth. "Hyar's yo' napkin," laying it back in her lap; then in a voice that reached her ear alone, "Look out, yo' am bein' watched."
"Thank you, Sam." Nancy's voice was unruffled as her fingers closed spasmodically over the paper concealed in the napkin. Seeing her friends were still occupied, she seized her chance, and whispered rapidly: "Go to Mr. Shriver's room at Wormley's, search behind the glass in the mirror over his bureau; then bring the paper you will find concealed there to me at the Perrys' to-night." Sam nodded understandingly. Nancy rose. "Senator Warren, will you help me on with my coat."
CHAPTER VI
THE SIGNAL LIGHT
"Are you sure you have made no mistake, Lloyd?" whispered Colonel Baker in his companion's ear.
"Positive, Colonel; I have laid my plans too carefully for that."
The two men were crouching behind a corner of a tumbled-down stone wall. Their position commanded a full view of an old square mansion standing some little distance from B Street. The galleries on the south side of the house overlooked a low, rolling meadow which ran down to the Potomac River.
"Have you no proof against the girl?"
"No tangible proof so far, though I am morally certain she is the cleverest spy of them all."
"Why not arrest her on suspicion?"
"What good would that accomplish? Her family and friends are the most influential in the District. Without actual proof of her guilt, you could not hold her forty-eight hours."
Colonel Baker moved restlessly. Such tactics were foreign to his nature. He believed in arresting first and investigating afterward. But his department had gone too far in a recent case, and he had been warned by no less a person than the President himself that his high-handed methods would no longer be tolerated.
"My idea is to make her convict herself," resumed Lloyd, after a slight pause.
"And you think your plot is going to work?"
"It has succeeded so far. I found out that Colonel Mitchell was entertaining Senator and Mrs. Warren, and that Miss Newton was to be of the party. The colonel's sentiments for her have changed within the last few days. I shouldn't be surprised if she had snubbed him, and wounded his vanity. Anyway he was quite willing to enter into a little scheme I suggested. I put it on purely patriotic motives, mind you," Lloyd smiled grimly to himself, "that, as a loyal Union officer, it was his duty to assist me. So he wrote a bogus despatch, purporting to come from the adjutant-general, which he was to drop accidentally before Miss Newton, and then give her an opportunity to pick it up."
"Did she do it?"
"I am positive she did, although I did not actually see her. I saw Mitchell, who managed it very cleverly, drop the paper, and as they left their table I walked over to it. The paper had disappeared from the floor."
"Why didn't you arrest her then?"
"Because I want to find out her method of passing information on to the rebels. She may have a confederate who would carry out her schemes while she is in prison, and we would be none the wiser and still unable to stop the leak. I judged that the moment Miss Newton had time to read that paper she would instantly try to communicate with the rebels. And I judged rightly." He paused to look up and down the silent street.
"Go on," whispered Baker impatiently.
"Symonds and I shadowed her home. She stayed in the house just long enough to change her dress, then came on here by a circuitous route. She has been in there about ten minutes," nodding his head in the direction of the house.
"I am glad I met you," rejoined Baker grimly. "I enjoy being in at the death. Sure she cannot escape you?"
"The house is surrounded by my men. I am going to give her a few more minutes before I interrupt her little game."
Somewhere in the neighborhood a dog bayed, but there was no sign of life about the house, except a loose shutter banged dismally to and fro in the cutting east wind. No stars were out, and the men had to strain their eyes to make out objects in the dark. Suddenly Baker clutched Lloyd's arm and pointed to the south. A faint light had appeared from a window over the south portico, which grew brighter as it moved once to the left, then to the right, and then was raised, shedding a brilliant gleam on the deserted galleries.
"Signaling, by God!" swore Baker. "Come, man, in with you."
He started to his feet, but Lloyd pulled him down again.
"Wait," he cautioned. "We can interfere there at any moment." Reluctantly Baker followed his advice. Five minutes, ten minutes passed on leaden feet to the anxious watchers. But their vigil was rewarded. Lloyd touched his companion on the shoulder, and muttered: "If my eyes don't deceive me, here comes some one in answer to that signal."
Baker glanced up the deserted street, and dimly saw a man slowly approaching, apparently picking his way with care. The newcomer was nearly opposite the dilapidated entrance gate, when the side door of the house was cautiously opened and a figure stole out, and, making a quick dash through the gate, collided violently against him.
The Secret Service men were too far away to catch what was said, but they saw the two shake hands. Lloyd's men to the west of the house had witnessed the meeting, and, without waiting for a signal, were closing in on the pair, who stood still for a moment, then turned and walked straight toward the place where the two officers were crouching.
"Given into our hands," muttered Baker exultingly; then, as the newcomer stepped almost in front of him, he sprang forward, and seized him in no uncertain grip. "I've got you," he shouted in triumph.
The man straightened his bent shoulders to his full height; then stood passive.
"Well, well, so you have," said a quiet voice, "and what are you going to do about it?"
"A light here," roared Baker.
Obediently one of the soldiers who had come running up struck a match, and held it in the hollow of his hand so the wind would not extinguish it. As the tiny flame grew brighter, he raised the match, and the light fell full on the face of Baker's prisoner.
"Good God! The President!" gasped the colonel, and his hands fell nerveless by his side.
CHAPTER VII
THE MISCHANCES OF A NIGHT
Baker glanced hopelessly about him; at the President, who pulled his old gray shawl closer around his shoulders to keep out the chill wind; at Lloyd, who stood clutching Nancy by her arms; and at the soldiers who stood grouped about them. For once his feelings were beyond expression.
"How long are you going to keep me here?" inquired Lincoln patiently. "And why did you jump at me like a Comanche Indian?"
"Not a mo-moment, sir," stuttered Baker. "It was this young lady we were after. We had no intention at all of interfering with you."
"And why do you want Miss Newton, Baker?" asked Lincoln.
"She is a rebel spy. We caught her signaling to-night."
"I deny it," exclaimed Nancy hotly; and she tried to step forward, but Lloyd's strong arm held her back.
"Mr. President, hear me just one moment." Lloyd spoke with great earnestness, and Lincoln turned to face him. One of the soldiers had found a half-burnt candle in his coat pocket, and by its feeble rays the President noticed Lloyd's detaining hand on Nancy's shoulder.
"Release Miss Newton," he ordered sternly. "Then tell your story in detail."
Reluctantly Lloyd did as he was told. "This young lady picked up a piece of paper in Gautier's which I knew contained valuable information. I have suspected her for some days of supplying the Confederates with our secrets; so I followed her here, and saw the signal light. Colonel Baker and I thought you came up the street in answer to it. It was too dark to recognize you...."
"So you took me for a rebel spy?"
"I certainly am sorry for my precipitancy, Mr. President," said Baker apologetically. "Thinking you were an accomplice of this lady's, I tried only to do my duty."
"My shoulder and arm can testify to your zeal," chuckled Lincoln. "Now, Miss Nancy, what have you to say to these charges?"
"I never picked up a paper, Mr. President," said Nancy firmly. "On my return home to-night from Gautier's I found a message from my old mammy, Aunt Polly, saying she was very ill and that she needed me. She lives in that house with her son, who is the caretaker during Mr. Perry's absence. So I..."
"Disguised yourself and came here," broke in Lloyd insultingly.
"If by 'disguise' you mean I changed my evening gown, I did—for this more suitable street dress." Nancy threw back her head haughtily. "I am offering my explanation to the President; not to you, sir."
"Continue your remarks, Miss Nancy," directed Lincoln quietly.
"Why, that is all, Mr. President. After changing my gown I came here..."
"By side streets," again interposed Lloyd.
"By side streets, because the more direct route is crowded with noisy men and women," answered Nancy calmly. "I found Doctor Boyd here with Aunt Polly." Lloyd uttered another exclamation, but Nancy refused to pay heed. "He advised that we move Aunt Polly into a room facing south as it would be warmer and more cheery for her in the daytime. Jasper and the doctor carried her there, and I went ahead with the lamp..."
"With which you have been signaling to the rebels," declared Lloyd roughly.
"I did nothing of the sort," retorted Nancy vehemently. "In trying to find a place to put the lamp down I walked backward and forward with it in my hand until I had pushed a table before the window. I then placed the lamp on it, and went to help the doctor. He told me my presence was no longer needed, and advised me to go home, as Aunt Metoaca would be alarmed by my long absence. Bidding Aunt Polly good night, I slipped out of the side entrance and ran into you at the gate, Mr. President."
"Miss Nancy told me then," volunteered Lincoln, slowly, "that she had been with Aunt Polly who was ill. I know Aunt Polly, too; we have frequent talks when I stroll down this street and she is working in the garden, or sweeping the driveway."
"And I will take my oath to the truth of Nancy's story," said Doctor Boyd, stepping into the circle about the President. "Aunt Polly had to undergo a minor operation, she insisted on Nancy being present, and to prevent the old woman working herself into a fever I sent for Nancy. I would have escorted her here myself, but my duties at the hospital prevented."
Lincoln nodded understandingly. "It's all right, Doctor," he said soothingly. "I believe Miss Nancy, and I guess our friend, Colonel Baker, does, also."
Baker looked doubtfully at Nancy. "Yes," he muttered ungraciously, "Miss Newton has made everything clear." He turned to address Lloyd, but the latter had disappeared.
"Then suppose we walk on," said Lincoln. "It is cold standing here. Your aunt called to see me this morning, Miss Nancy."
"It was most kind of you to give us passes to Winchester." Nancy looked gratefully at the President as she tried to keep step with his long strides. "The change will do Aunt Metoaca good, she has been too long in Washington without a change of air, and I am worried about her condition."
Lloyd rejoined the little procession at the corner of New York Avenue and Seventeenth Street. To the right gleamed the lights of the cavalry corral on the ellipse back of the White House, and on the left were the buildings of the quartermaster general's depot. Lloyd drew Baker to one side and whispered:
"Apparently the girl has covered her tracks this time. Symonds and I entered the house and the darky, Jasper, and his mother repeated the same tale to me. We searched the house, but could find nothing suspicious. On leaving I stationed a guard about the grounds, for I am convinced shedidsignal to some one who may try to enter the house later on."
"Better give it up," growled Baker, whose temper had been sorely tried by his own exploit.
"Never!" Lloyd's teeth came together with an ominous click. "I will trap that girl if it takes me months."
The President and Nancy led the way up Seventeenth Street to Pennsylvania Avenue and down that thoroughfare toward the White House. Lincoln stopped when he reached the entrance to the War Department.
"I am going in here to read the latest despatches," he said. "Good night, Doctor. Miss Nancy, when do you go to Winchester?"
"On the early train to-morrow, or, rather, this morning. Good night, Mr. President."
"Good night and a safe journey to you." The President watched Nancy and Doctor Boyd out of sight; then turned to Baker. "Don't take it to heart, man. I rather enjoyed your springing at me—it was a new sensation."
"Indeed, Mr. President, you should not go out at this time of night without a guard," remonstrated Baker earnestly. "Then such a thing would never have happened. It is not safe for you to walk about without proper protection."
"Baker," said the President reminiscently, "you remind me of the little girl who had just been told of the omnipresence of God, and was so upset that she turned angrily upon her pet dog, saying: 'Go back in the house, Peggy. It's bad enough having God tagging 'round, without you.' Good night, Baker," and Lincoln disappeared inside the War Department.
CHAPTER VIII
A VOICE FROM THE PAST
Some hours later Doctor Boyd stepped inside his hall and softly closed the front door. Quickly removing his hat and heavy cloak, he went directly into his back office and felt about in the dark for his match box. It was not to be found in its accustomed place, and an angry exclamation escaped the doctor. Apparently Martha Crane, his trusted old housekeeper, had taken advantage of his absence and tidied up his desk, an act of vandalism which always reduced Boyd to a state bordering on frenzy.
"Kin I help yo', suh?"
Doctor Boyd's right hand sought his hip pocket, and he faced in the direction from which the voice came. The intruder guessed his intention and spoke hastily.
"Fo' God's sake, doan shoot, suh. I'se Sam." And to confirm his statement he struck a match and held it so that his features were visible by the flickering flame.
"Well, come in and light this confounded burner," exclaimed the doctor testily, as his fingers slowly relaxed their hold on his weapon. "Next time don't announce your presence so dramatically, Sam, or you may get hurt."
"Yessir." The negro stepped with alacrity through the doorway which led to the front office, and applied his half burned match to the gas jet over the doctor's desk. "Miss Martha done told me ter wait in dar."
"Confound the woman!" The doctor seated himself in his armchair and contemplated the neatly arranged papers and ornaments on his desk in despair. "Where is she?"
"Done gone out," announced Sam briefly. "I tole her I'd be 'sponsible fo' de house 'til she cum back."
"Where were you to-night, Sam? Miss Nancy expected you to meet her at the Perry's."
"I went dar, suh, but I seed a lot ob men a-hangin' 'roun' watchin' de place, so I jes' cum on heah, thinkin' p'raps Miss Nancy mite be wif yo'. I done got de papah she wanted."
"Miss Nancy leaves at nine o'clock for Winchester."
"Golly! Den I mus' git right 'roun' an' gib her dis heah papah." Sam started for the door.
"Stop!" commanded Boyd. "The Newtons' house is also watched by Secret Service agents. I saw them sneaking about the yard when I left Miss Nancy an hour ago. If you go there at this hour you will be arrested instantly."
Sam scratched his woolly head in perplexity. "I reckon if I jes' go to der back alley an' whistle fo' Misery dey won' notice dis ole nigger," he volunteered hopefully, after a moment's thought.
"What good would that do you?"
"I'll jes' slip de papah in de dawg's collah, an' he'll take it ter Missy same as he brings her messages ter me."
Boyd shook his head. "It is too much to risk on a dog's sagacity now that suspicion is directed toward Miss Nancy."
"Den 'spose I meet Missy at de train an' slip de papah in her han'."
"Unfortunately she is shadowed wherever she goes. Sit down a moment, Sam, and let me think." The doctor stroked his chin reflectively. "I'm afraid if I go to their house on the pretext of giving Miss Metoaca medicine I will be searched, and if that paper is incriminating we will all swing together. Here, let me read the message, and then I can repeat it to Miss Nancy at the station."
"No, suh, 'scuse me, suh, but dis heah papah was ter be delibered ter her pussionally."
"I am the best judge of that. Give me the paper at once."
"No, suh," reiterated Sam obstinately. "Cunnel Newton tole me I was ter do 'zackly what Miss Nancy oddered, 'kase he willed meh ter her fo' he died, an' I'se her serbent now same as I wore his body serbent."
"Confound your stupidity," growled Doctor Boyd. At that moment a sound from the basement reached his quick ear. Signing to Sam to remain where he was, Boyd tiptoed out into the hall and over to the back stairs. The kitchen door creaked dolefully as it was pushed open by an old woman who walked heavily along the lower hall toward the stairs carrying a lighted candle. The doctor drew a sigh of relief.
"Glad you have returned, Martha," he called softly. "Please bring some ice water into my office on your way to bed."
Sam was plucking nervously at his old hat when the doctor reentered the office.
"'Tain't 'kase I doanwantter gib yo' dat papah, suh," he began confusedly, edging toward the open hall door. "But de cunnel, he brunged meh up ter obey his odders, same as he done Miss Nancy. His word wore law to eb'ry one on de plantashun. I reckon I'se jes' got ter fin' some way ob reachin' Miss Nancy."
"You won't have to reach far," volunteered a familiar voice from the doorway. Sam wheeled about and a gasp escaped him.
"You? Nancy!" The doctor gazed incredulously at the stooping, gray-haired woman who hobbled into the room and closed the door.
'You? Nancy!' The doctor gazed incredulously."'You? Nancy!' The doctor gazed incredulously."
For answer Nancy straightened her bent shoulders and removed the gray wig.
"I found Martha Crane with Aunt Metoaca," she explained, seating herself by the desk. "She told me that you were here, Sam, and having failed to meet you at the Perrys' I decided to try and catch you here before you left."
"But where on earth did you get that disguise?" demanded the doctor.
"I borrowed the clothes from Martha; fortunately, with padding, they fit me quite well. She also lent me the key of your basement so that I would not attract attention by going to the front door. The wig," Nancy laughed, "I used that in some tableaux at one of the Sanitary Fairs last year. It came in very handy, for the Secret Service men thought I was old Martha and let me pass unquestioned."
"No wonder; your make-up is perfect," declared Boyd heartily.
"Have you secured the paper for me, Sam?" asked Nancy.
"Yes, Missy." Sam took a small slip of paper from an inside pocket and handed it to her. Nancy studied the closely written lines intently.
"Important?" inquired the doctor, breaking the long silence.
"Very." She carefully refolded the slip. "This contains the key to Stanton's private cipher code."
A low whistle of surprise escaped Boyd. "How did you get it?"
"Arthur Shriver, who, as you know, was a clerk in his office, copied it, but before he could get it to me he was arrested on suspicion," explained Nancy. "I heard he was confined in one of the front rooms in the Old Capitol Prison, and so arranged to have the sentry's attention diverted while I questioned Arthur by prearranged signals."
"Did the plan work?"
"It did. Arthur told me where he had hidden the paper, and I sent Sam to-night to get it for me."
"Well, well!" The doctor sat back and contemplated Nancy admiringly. "There's another message written on the back of that paper."
Nancy turned it over and her eyes widened in surprise as she read aloud the hastily scrawled words: "Mrs. Bennett is a Union spy. I have just overheard an interview between her and Stanton."
"That woman!" ejaculated the doctor. "That cat!"
"Felines scratch," Nancy shrugged her shoulders disdainfully. "Stanton is fighting the devil with fire."
"Be careful, Nancy; don't undervalue your opponents," cautioned the doctor.
"I flatter myself I am a match for Mrs. Bennett," retorted Nancy, "and forewarned is forearmed."
"Strange," muttered Doctor Boyd. "Very strange. Do you recollect the——"
"I shall turn this paper over to you, Doctor," broke in Nancy impetuously, "to take through the lines, along with a despatch which I also secured to-night."
Boyd shook his head. "Impossible. I cannot leave the city now."
"Why not?"
"Because I have a capital operation to perform at ten o'clock."
Nancy gazed at him in consternation. "Why, Doctor, you have always said that when the Cause needed your services you would not fail...."
"Nor will I, when the Causereallyneeds me. But at present you are better equipped to carry these messages through the lines than I."
Nancy fingered the table ornaments for a moment in silence; then raised her troubled eyes to her listener's face.
"I have sent my last despatch," she announced quietly.
"What!" The doctor could not believe his ears. "Why?"
"Because I refuse to deceive people any longer. I was brought up to believe a lie an abomination of the Lord—and I have been a living lie for three long years!"
"You have developed a New England conscience," growled Boyd.
"Do you think all the virtues belong north of Mason and Dixon's line?" retorted Nancy hotly. "For shame!"
"I beg your pardon," the old surgeon bowed toward her with stately courtesy. "Do be reasonable, child. This operation I am to perform means not only life to the patient, but much to science. Besides, I doubt if the authorities would allow me to leave Washington to-day. Now, your plans for leaving the city are already made; therefore it will be a very simple, easy matter for you to carry those papers into Virginia. You will run little risk..."
"I am not hesitating on that score," broke in Nancy. "I would give my life gladly for the 'bonnie blue flag'—in the open. It is the underhand methods—the spying—the deceit—that burn like a red-hot coal." Nancy paused; then continued more quietly: "Thereissuch a word as 'honor'." She drew out another slip of paper from the bosom of her dress and tossed it, together with the paper already in her hand, on the table. "You must find another messenger."
"Missy, Missy, what yo' talkin' 'bout?" Nancy and the doctor both started. They had forgotten Sam's presence. "Is yo' goin' back on yo' gibben word—yo'—a Newton?"
The girl's face whitened. She started to speak, but the negro gave her no opportunity to do so.
"Has yo' done forgot dat Sunday night?" he asked, leaning forward across the table in his earnestness. "Dat night when I fotched yo' from Newton Manor to Massa's bedside?" His voice deepened, the musical voice of the emotional African.
In Nancy's mind distinct and vivid rose the memory of that wild ride through the night to her father, the gay, handsome father whom she idolized. Then, in thought, she again knelt beside the rude bed in the silent tent, clinging to a feeble hand which had not the strength to return her pressure.
"Missy," Sam's voice brought her back to the present, "Massa done brunged yo' up ter ride, an' shoot, an' swim 'kase he wanted a boy so bad. He wore shot leadin' a charge ag'in de Yanks, an' when de gen'ral cum later ter say how bad he feel ter lose Massa, he jes' said: 'Ah wish Ah haid uh son ter take ma place in de ranks.'" The negro paused, then continued slowly: "When yo' an' I got dar, Missy, de Massa wore mos' gone, but he say ter yo': 'Doan cry, dear, de fightin' Newtons allus die wid de boots on—an' so die happy.' An' den he raise hissef up uh li'le an' gasp: 'Ah gib yo' ter de Cause—swear to uphold de honoh ob Virginny—ter repel invasion—swear——'" Sam raised his right hand solemnly. "An' yo' swore dat oath on de Crucifix, Missy, on de Crucifix—in a dyin' man's han'."
Sam's accusing eyes held Nancy spellbound. Mechanically she readjusted her wig. Quickly her right hand sought the papers lying on the table, and before either of the men realized her intention she had slipped from the room and was gone.
CHAPTER IX
OUTWITTED
For once Lloyd had overslept, and he kicked a chair viciously out of his way as he stooped to find an elusive collar button. A loud knock at his door interrupted his search. On opening it he found one of the chambermaids leaning against the opposite wall.
"Well, what is it?" he demanded sharply.
"Dis hyar gen'man's down to de do' an' wants ter see yo' to onst," and she thrust a card into his hand.
"Tell Colonel Mitchell I will be down in a minute. No, stay—show him up here." Lloyd retreated into his room. He had just completed his toilet when a second knock sounded on his door.
"Good morning, Mitchell," he said cordially, admitting the officer. "I had you come up here because we can be more private. Sit down and have a cigar," and he pulled forward a chair; then opened his cigar case.
But the colonel remained standing, and waved aside the proffered cigar. "Did you catch Miss Newton?" he asked eagerly.
"We found her, yes; but my plan missed fire."
"You mean?"
"She did not try to communicate with the rebels last night."
"Then you did not arrest her as a spy?"
"No—I had not sufficient evidence against her to do so."
"Is she at large?"
"Yes; but closely watched."
"Did you take the despatch from her?"
"No."
"She still has it?"
"I suppose so. Good God! man, what's the matter?"
Mitchell, white faced and trembling, collapsed into a chair.
"Pull yourself together," continued Lloyd sternly. "She cannot do any harm even if she does manage to send that despatch to Lee; it is false information."
Twice Mitchell tried to speak. "Man, man," he gasped finally. "By some fearful mischance I dropped a real despatch and not the bogus one."
With eyes starting from his head, Lloyd regarded the unfortunate officer while he slowly digested his startling news. Then he picked up his overcoat and hat and made for the closed door. "To think I let that girl go into Virginia under the President's pass with that despatch in her pocket. Damnation!" and the door slammed violently on his retreating figure.
Goddard rose bright and early that morning. He did not awaken Lloyd, for he had bidden him good-bye the night before, so after scrawling a few lines to his friend thanking him for his hospitality and leaving the note on the bureau, he hastened down to the Newtons'. Nancy and her aunt did not keep him waiting long, and with the help of their butler he got them into the waiting hack, tossed in their numerous hand luggage, and jumped up by the driver. On their arrival at the depot he found they had but three minutes in which to catch the train, so he unceremoniously bundled Miss Metoaca and Nancy through the gates and to the train; while the hackman brought up the rear with two carpet bags and a lunch hamper.
They found they had the car practically to themselves, so Miss Metoaca picked out the cleanest seat, and insisted that all the luggage be put by her side where it would be directly under her eye. Then she announced she was going to take "forty winks," as she had been up most of the night and needed sleep. With a sigh of satisfaction, Goddard settled himself next to Nancy in the seat directly across the aisle from Miss Metoaca. As the train pulled out from the depot a man swung himself aboard the back platform and slipped into a seat in the rear of the last car unseen by Goddard.
"You look tired," said Goddard, glancing keenly at Nancy's pale face.
"I am; for I spent most of the night with a sick servant. But you, Major Goddard, don't look any too fresh yourself," replied Nancy quickly.
It was true. Goddard had spent a sleepless night. He could not believe—would not believe Lloyd's charge against Nancy. After all, she was not the only girl, or woman, with red-gold hair in the world. Lloyd had nothing to go upon but theories—no absolute proof—and an innocent act might easily be construed into a guilty one by a suspicious mind. Perhaps Lloyd's wish had proved father to the thought; he showed extraordinary animosity toward Nancy. All the chivalry of his nature revolted at the Secret Service officer's cold-blooded scheme to ensnare her, and Goddard determined in his own mind she should have fair play.
"Are you a Washingtonian by birth, Miss Newton?" he inquired, as she moved restlessly under his intent gaze.
"No, by adoption. I was born and raised in Richmond. I do not remember my mother. She died when I was very young. After my father's death I came north in charge of my black mammy, Aunt Polly, to live with Aunt Metoaca. My dear father," Nancy's eyes filled with unbidden tears, and she hastily tried to wink them away. "I wish you could have known each other, Major. Dad's courtly greeting and warm heart won him so many, many friends."
"I second the wish," said Goddard gently. "Pardon the question, but has he been dead long?"
"Three years now; but time has not lessened my sorrow. We were all in all to each other, notwithstanding I was his greatest disappointment."
"How so?"
"He wanted a son and heir; but I was his only child, the last of a long line of fighting men. Dad was my constant companion as well as my teacher," she sighed involuntarily. "I miss him more and more as the years go on."
Goddard nodded sympathetically. "'Oh, for the touch of a vanished hand, and the sound of a voice that is still,'" he quoted softly. Nancy started, and, as her lips quivered, Goddard added more lightly, "I have a fellow feeling with you, for I am an orphan, too, Miss Nancy; but I cannot say I had so agreeable a guardian as you have."
"Aunt Metoaca has been both mother and father to me. Bless her dear kind heart!" and Nancy glanced with deep affection at the nodding gray head on the opposite seat. "She and Doctor John Boyd are the only friends I have."
"Oh, come, you know you have legions of..."
"Of acquaintances—yes," interpolated Nancy swiftly. "It is my fault. I do not make friends easily, and lately..."
"Yes, and lately?" asked Goddard, as she hesitated.
"I have noticed a change in my acquaintances. Oh, nothing tangible; but there is a coolness in their greeting, and I hear innuendoes."
"What do you care? Women will say anything when jealous, which I suspect is the cause of their behavior. Hasn't your mirror told you that?" and Goddard smiled, as he looked with admiration at her winsome face.
"It is not always the women who throw the first stone, Major," again Nancy hesitated. "There is a man in Washington—he chose to consider himself in love with me, and because I did not encourage his suit he—he—insinuates——"
"The beast! Why don't you tell him he is a liar and a coward?"
"Because I am only a woman."
"I wish you would give me the right to protect you," whispered Goddard, carried away by the wistful appeal in her large, eloquent eyes.
"Major Goddard," Nancy drew back, frightened by the intensity of his manner. "This is very wrong. You—you—forget we have not known each other long."
"I am getting on as fast as I can," retorted Goddard sturdily; his heart thumping as he saw her confusion. "Miss Newton—Nancy—I mean every word I have said. Tell me that scoundrel's name!"
Unconsciously Goddard raised his voice, and Miss Metoaca awoke from her slumbers, which had long exceeded the "forty winks." That limit existed only in her imagination.
"Well, young people, are you hungry?" to attract Goddard's attention she prodded him with her umbrella. "Suppose we open our lunch basket."
Reluctantly Goddard rose and assisted Miss Metoaca in handing the sandwiches, cakes, and cold coffee to Nancy. They did full justice to the good things provided by Miss Metoaca's excellent cook, and lingered over the improvised lunch table. Finally Nancy commenced putting the remains of the lunch into the hamper just as the train reached the railroad bridge which spanned the Potomac at the juncture of the Shenandoah River.
As the train came to a stop before the depot at Harper's Ferry their car was surrounded by a squad of soldiers, and a lieutenant of infantry swung on board the forward platform and consulted with the conductor.
"There's the party," said the latter, pointing through the open door to Miss Metoaca and Nancy, who were sitting together. The officer stepped into the car and addressed them.
"Miss Newton?" he asked, touching his cap, "and Miss Nancy Newton, from Washington?"
"Yes, sir," said Miss Metoaca. "What then?"
"I have orders to detain you both in Harper's Ferry. Kindly follow me," and he turned as if to leave the car.
"By whose order, and under what charge?" asked Goddard hotly, stepping in front of the two indignant women.
"Are you Major Goddard, of the —th United States cavalry?" demanded the younger officer.
"I am."
"General Stevenson received orders by telegraph from Washington to detain these ladies here on their arrival. I do not know the charge, Major," replied the lieutenant courteously.
"How long do you propose keeping us here?" asked Nancy, slowly recovering from her astonishment.
"Until further orders are received from Washington."
"I haven't the faintest intention of staying here," announced Miss Metoaca, with rising indignation. "We have passes from President Lincoln to go to Winchester, and to Winchester I am going."
The lieutenant shook his head. "These orders supersede your passes. You will both have to come with me."
"Indeed?" Miss Metoaca settled herself comfortably in her seat. "Then, young man, you will have the pleasure of carrying me; for I do not intend to walk out of this car until I reach my proper destination."
The lieutenant was equal to the occasion. "Go forward, conductor," he ordered, "and tell the engineer to back this car on a siding in the yard, then uncouple it from the train. Sergeant, conduct these passengers," indicating the men who had gathered about them, "into the next car."
"Wait," called Nancy, and the conductor stopped. "I am sure this extraordinary order can be satisfactorily explained; so let us go quietly with this officer, Aunt Metoaca. We must be dignified under our arrest."
"Dignity? Who cares about dignity when one's personal liberty is in question? I decline to leave this seat."
Nancy bent and whispered rapidly in her aunt's ear. At first her communication was not taken in good part; then the spinster's face cleared, and she rose.
"I will come with you," she volunteered graciously. "Go on ahead, Lieutenant."
Bewildered by her sudden change of front, the young officer led the way to the door, followed by both women, Goddard, and the sergeant. As Miss Metoaca stepped from the car the guard closed round them. The conductor deposited their hand luggage on the platform. "All aboard!" he shouted; then signaled to his engineer, and with a rattle and roar the belated train thundered out of the station.
"Where do you propose taking these ladies?" demanded Goddard.
"To the waiting room. They are to be detained here under guard until an officer arrives from Washington on a special train to examine them."
"Do you know who this officer is?"
"Captain Lloyd, of the Secret Service. In there, ladies." He opened the door of the empty waiting room, and with flashing eyes and heightened color Miss Metoaca and Nancy disappeared inside the door. Goddard started to follow them, but the lieutenant laid a detaining hand on his arm as he closed the door. "Will you come with me, Major. I have orders not to allow you to hold communication with the ladies."
Goddard stopped as if shot and glared at the embarrassed officer. The silent passenger, who had carefully remained in the background during the scene in the car, was following the two men, intent on listening to their conversation, and he bumped into Goddard when he stopped so abruptly. Goddard instantly turned and collared him.
"What the devil!" giving vent to his rage. "Why, Symonds," releasing the Secret Service agent. "What brings you here?"
"Captain Lloyd's orders, sir," and Symonds saluted respectfully.