CHAPTER XVIII
WHEN DOCTORS DISAGREE
The next morning all Washington was agog over the news of Nancy's arrest as a rebel spy, and Captain Lloyd's sudden death. All day long Miss Metoaca's negro butler kept trotting to the front door in answer to the frantic ringing of the bell, and to every anxious inquiry he invariably replied: "Miss Turkey's only tol'able, thank yo', and she begs to be 'scused."
Late in the afternoon Senator Warren walked heavily up the steps. Old Jonas, who had seen him coming along C Street, stood waiting on the threshold, and without a word took his hat and cane.
"Dis way, Marse Senator." He helped him off with his overcoat. "We's been 'spectin' yo' all day, suh."
Miss Metoaca, hollow-eyed and weary, dropped the shawl she was pretending to knit, and rose quickly when she caught sight of Warren.
"What news?" she asked, scanning his face anxiously.
The senator motioned her to resume her seat, and drew up a chair by her. He hesitated perceptibly for a second; then answered her query with another: "Have you seen Nancy?"
"No. I went to the Old Capitol Prison the first thing this morning, and saw Superintendent Wood. He told me I would have to get a permit from the judge advocate general before he could allow me to talk with Nancy. I immediately went to see Judge Holt, and he curtly refused my request. Then I went to the President, who told me he would talk it over with Stanton. I knew whatthatmeant; so did not waste any time waiting, but came straight home."
Warren nodded his head gravely. "That is about what I expected. Nancy is in close confinement, charged with the most serious offense possible in war times. I doubt if I, her legal representative, am allowed to see her until this mystery is a little more cleared up.
"Stanton is already wrought up over the fact that the key to his cipher code is known outside of his office. He will move heaven and earth to discover how Nancy secured the key to the information she is accused of giving to Pegram. She can expect no leniency there. Baker also is determined to prove that she stole the recovered despatch from Lloyd. He insists she is implicated in some way in the captain's mysterious death."
Miss Metoaca drew a long breath. "It looks as if the odds were against Nancy having a fair chance to prove her innocence," she sighed. "Have you any idea when she will be brought to trial?"
"When I saw him just now, Judge Holt was busy selecting officers to serve on a military commission."
"I was told it would be a court-martial."
"Not necessarily." Warren drew out a sheet of paper. "I asked Judge Holt about it, and he gave this copy of the eighty-second article of war, enacted in 1862, which reads: 'All persons, who in time of war, or of rebellion against the supreme authority of the United States, shall be found lurking or acting as spies in or about any of the fortifications, posts, quarters, or encampments of any of the armies of the United States, or elsewhere, shall be triable by a general court-martial, or by a military commission, and shall, on conviction, suffer death.'"
His voice unconsciously deepened on the last solemn word, and Miss Metoaca's face went gray.
"I wish you men were not so fond of plain language," she exclaimed irritably. "Please remember they have not yet proved anything against Nancy."
"Quite true. But you must also recollect, Miss Metoaca, that a military commission will accept evidence which a civil court would throw out."
"But, Senator, the despatch which Stanton claims Nancy wrote cannot be found. Therefore, it is impossible for them to bring it up as proof against her."
"I am not so sure of that."
"Tut! They have only Symonds' word that such a paper ever existed."
"True; but Symonds is a man whose word can be relied on. His story will be accepted as direct evidence, and it will, I fear, be hard to shake his testimony."
"Have you learned anything that throws light on Captain Lloyd's death?" inquired Miss Metoaca, after a slight pause.
Warren moved his chair nearer the sofa, and glanced about to see that he was not overheard.
"The mystery deepens," he said gravely. "By order of the President, I was allowed to hear the result of the autopsy held this morning."
"What was it?" demanded Miss Metoaca breathlessly.
"After a prolonged and careful examination, the surgeons declare that they could find no wound or mark of violence on Captain Lloyd's body; nor any trace of poison in his system. Therefore, they were forced to believe, in the absence of any particular symptom, or pathological appearance, that he died from some cause, or causes, to them unknown." Warren paused in the rapid reading of his notes in his memorandum book; then resumed dryly: "In my state, the country people would describe Lloyd's death as 'a visitation of God.'"
"Well, Providence might have been worse employed," said Miss Metoaca abruptly, and her face cleared. "Doesn't the autopsy settle that preposterous charge against Nancy?"
"I have not finished telling you all that I heard from the surgeons," went on Warren patiently. "They also said that it was just possible that the last five days in the saddle without sufficient food or sleep might have produced heart failure, but they judged that extremely unlikely——"
"I don't call that bad news," broke in Miss Metoaca. "Seems to me that statement clears Nancy absolutely."
"Unfortunately, Doctor Ward contends that the symptoms would be the same if Lloyd had been suffocated by some anæsthetic, chloroform, for instance."
"Suffocated!" ejaculated Miss Metoaca, half rising in her surprise. "What nonsense! They would have detected the smell of chloroform."
"Not necessarily," again returned Warren. "Lloyd had been dead some hours before they found him; secondly, one of the windows was open top and bottom, which ventilated the room. The chloroform probably evaporated quickly, and left no tell-tale odor behind."
"And do you mean to tell me that those idiots believe on such flimsy evidence as that that Nancy killed Lloyd!" exclaimed Miss Metoaca wrathfully. "Do you believe a young, delicate, high-strung girl, like Nancy, could commit such a cold-blooded murder?"
"Nancy's sex will not protect her when the passions of men are roused. Do you suppose that a suspected spy will not be an object of hatred in these days?"
Miss Metoaca nodded sullenly in agreement. She knew the opprobrium and scorn which were heaped on rebel sympathizers in Baltimore and Washington, and realized the justice of Warren's comment.
"This is not the day of miracles," continued the senator, "and it is stretching probability to the breaking point to believe that Lloyd died from natural causes at the very moment when his death would be of benefit to Nancy. In addition to this, there is the disappearance of that important despatch."
Miss Metoaca made no remark, so Warren resumed his argument.
"The first and most important thing in solving a murder mystery is to find amotivefor the crime. When that is once established, the means are easy to prove. The thing that will militate the most against Nancy is thetimelinessof Captain Lloyd's death.
"The military commission will undoubtedly believe that Nancy, realizing that Lloyd could prove she was a rebel spy, resorted to murder to silence the one man whose evidence would hang her. I fear, I greatly fear, Nancy will have a hard time convincing the commission that, if not actually the criminal, she did not connive at Captain Lloyd's death."
"It is an outrage!" fumed Miss Metoaca. "I am willing to stake my immortal soul that Nancy had nothing to do with the captain's mysterious death, nor with the disappearance of that miserable despatch."
"My wife and I also believe in Nancy's innocence," declared Warren warmly; "and I give you my solemn word of honor, Miss Metoaca, that I will do everything within my power to assist her."
"God forever bless you!" Miss Metoaca leaned forward, and impulsively clasped his hand in both of hers. "You give me renewed courage. Tell me," as Warren's eyes strayed to the clock on the mantel, "have you heard how Major Goddard is getting on?"
"I stopped at Mrs. Lane's this morning, but the corporal of the provost marshal's guard stationed about the house refused to admit me. Fortunately I met Doctor Ward on his way out from seeing Goddard, and he told me that the major had regained consciousness, but was very weak and unable to talk. I drove at once to the Old Capitol Prison, and induced Wood to promise to tell Nancy that Major Goddard was recovering. I hope the message gave her some comfort, poor girl!"
"Senator," Miss Metoaca lowered her voice until she almost whispered, "Major Goddard and Nancy were thrown together day after day while we were in Winchester. We both felt so sorry for him, and Nancy used to talk or read to him continually during his convalescence. I watched them both, and it gradually dawned on me that the major worshipped the ground Nancy walked on. Now, is it not possible that he overheard Lloyd tell Symonds he had secured a paper which might hang Nancy?"
"Yes," agreed the senator, seeing she paused for a reply.
"Men have thrown worlds away before now to win a woman's love," went on Miss Metoaca so rapidly that her words tumbled over each other. "God knows, I don't want to turn suspicion against an innocent man; but do you not think it possible that Major Goddard...?"
"Killed his friend and secured the paper," finished Warren, as she hesitated. "Possible, but not probable."
"Why not?" demanded Miss Metoaca heatedly. "It is more probable than that Nancy should have committed the murder."
"Men have done many mad deeds for love," pursued Warren, paying no attention to her interruption, "but they cannot accomplish the impossible. You think Goddard stepped into that bedroom, chloroformed Lloyd, and then stole the wallet containing that despatch?"
Miss Metoaca nodded her head without speaking.
"How could a blind man do all that andnotoverturn one thing in the room?" asked Warren quietly.
CHAPTER XIX
GROPING IN THE DARK
"How do you know he didn't?" snapped Miss Metoaca, sticking to her theory with grim determination.
"Because Symonds declares there was no sign of confusion in the room when he found the two men—one dead—one unconscious."
"Always Symonds!" grumbled Miss Metoaca disgustedly. "He is a regular Jack-in-the-box. I don't care what he says. I firmly believe Major Goddard is responsible for Lloyd's death, if he reallywaskilled, which I think is open to doubt."
"I thought as you do at first," agreed the senator, "but I found on closer examination that the theory would not hold water. In the first place, Goddard, being blind, had, and has, to feel his way about—probably had to grope around Lloyd's body to locate his face—which would undoubtedly have aroused the sleeping man...."
"Wait a bit," interrupted Miss Metoaca. "Even if he did awaken Lloyd, the latter would have thought nothing of finding his friend by his bedside. They were roommates—and probably, after speaking to Goddard, he rolled over and went to sleep again.
"Then there's another thing," pursued Miss Metoaca eagerly, as Warren nodded a silent agreement to her statement. "Symonds declares Lloyd's wallet was stolen. Why should Nancy take the book when all she needed was the one single paper, which Stanton contends concerned her?
"Now, Major Goddard is blind. It was impossible forhimto pick out that paper from others; therefore, he would have been forced to steal the pocketbook."
"That appears plausible," admitted Warren, "but it isjustas plausible to suppose that Nancy, fearing she would be discovered in Lloyd's room, did not dare to stop and open the pocketbook there, and so took it away with her."
"You seem mighty anxious to believe Nancy took the despatch," commented Miss Metoaca, and disappointment lent bitterness to her voice.
"You mistake me," protested Warren warmly. "I will do my utmost to clear Nancy of these terrible charges; but I fear there is no use trying to prove Goddard guilty. After Symonds discovered the pocketbook was missing, he and Doctor Ward searched Goddard's clothing, as well as the room, but found no trace of the book or the despatch."
"Have you formed any theory as to how Major Goddard came to be lying in the room unconscious?" inquired Miss Metoaca.
"Well." Warren stroked his gray beard thoughtfully. "He may have had an attack of vertigo, or, mind you, this is wild guessing, perhaps he and Lloyd quarreled, and the latter struck him, forgetting his friend's blindness."
"And perhaps the excitement and shock of a quarrel with his best friend brought on Lloyd's attack of heart failure," put in Miss Metoaca excitedly.
"Only time—and Goddard—can tell." Warren shrugged his shoulders as he rose to go. "At present, Miss Metoaca, we are all groping in the dark, but I hope for enlightenment soon."
"When will the military commission hold the trial?" Miss Metoaca followed Warren into the hall.
"As soon as Major Goddard is able to testify. He is one of the most important witnesses. Now, Miss Metoaca, do stop worrying." Warren was shocked by the change in the spinster's worn face, which he saw more clearly in the light from the open door. "I will let you know the moment something new turns up."
"Be careful how you send news to me," cautioned Miss Metoaca. "This house is under constant surveillance. The Secret Service men were here all the morning, going through Nancy's belongings, and searching the entire house from top to bottom. They even overturned Aunt Betsy's barrel of soft soap. The Lord only knows what they expected to find there. I wished they had done it before they handled my clothes, there would be less dirty finger marks on them." Miss Metoaca snorted with suppressed indignation. "Our wardrobes are simply ruined. Good-bye, Senator Warren; my love to your dear wife. I can never thank you enough for all your kindness." Her lips quivered, and her shrewd old eyes filled with most unwonted tears.
"Please don't," pleaded Warren, much embarrassed. "You and Nancy have warm friends, who will stand by you through thick and thin. You must not get discouraged."
"Discouraged?" echoed Miss Metoaca, winking violently. "When I think of my dear Nancy in that place—I'd—I'd—like to murder some one myself!" And she slammed the front door viciously as a slight vent to her over-wrought feelings.
About the same hour that Senator Warren and Miss Metoaca were conferring together, Colonel Baker, much dissatisfied in mind, was walking moodily along F Street. Things had not gone to suit him that day. The result of the autopsy had puzzled him; the search of Miss Metoaca's house had proved disappointing, for nothing had been found there that in any way touched on the supposed murder, or on the whereabouts of the missing and all-important despatch. As he crossed the street on his way to the Ebbitt House, he encountered Symonds hurrying out of the F Street entrance of the hotel.
"Well, Symonds, what news?" he asked briefly, returning the other's salute.
"I hear that Major Goddard has regained consciousness, Colonel."
"Good!" Baker hesitated a moment; then turned on his heel. "Come with me, Symonds." And he led the way to Mrs. Lane's. The sentry on duty before the house saluted as he recognized him, and allowed him to enter the dwelling.
Baker wasted no time downstairs, but went directly to Lloyd's sitting room, and rapped softly on the door. In response to his knock, a nurse appeared in the doorway.
"What is it?" she asked.
"I have come to see your patient, Major Goddard, who I am told has regained consciousness."
"Oh, that is impossible," exclaimed the nurse, and she made a movement to close the door.
"One moment!"—sternly—"I am Colonel Baker, of the Secret Service. It is imperative that I see Major Goddard at once. I will not stay long." And he edged toward the doorway.
The young nurse had but recently joined the United States Sanitary Commission, and she was overawed by Baker's authoritative manner.
"Doctor Ward has forbidden ... still," she murmured, "if you will stay but a few minutes...." She moved reluctantly aside, and Baker stepped into the room, followed by Symonds.
"Don't worry," said the colonel kindly. "I will explain my presence to Doctor Ward; you will not be blamed. Where is your patient?"
"In the next room. He has been asleep all the afternoon, but is awake now."
With noiseless steps Colonel Baker made his way into the next room, and drew up a chair by Goddard's bedside. Nothing had been disturbed in the room; the furniture had been left as it was before Lloyd's death. A feeble attempt had been made to remove the blood stains in front of the mantel; but the servant had only succeeded in spreading the stains over the rag carpet.
Goddard moved restlessly, and turned over in bed, so that he faced Baker; his quick ear had caught the slight sound the newcomer made in seating himself.
"Nurse, is it you?" His voice was scarcely more than a whisper.
"No, Major Goddard; it is I, Colonel Baker."
"Baker?" Goddard spoke half to himself. "Baker? Not Colonel Baker, of the Secret Service?" attempting to rise in bed.
"The same, sir, but that need not excite you. Here, let me put this pillow at your back; you might then be more comfortable." Baker leaned over, and lifted Goddard up in his strong arms as Symonds slipped the pillow in place.
"Thanks. Who is the other person in the room?" inquired Goddard weakly.
"Symonds."
"Symonds!" Goddard's eyelids fluttered over his sightless eyes. Baker did not care to break the pause that followed. Suddenly Goddard roused himself. "What can I do for you, Colonel?"
"Just answer a few questions as to what happened here yesterday afternoon. I won't keep you talking long."
"I—I—am not very strong," faltered Goddard faintly.
"You had a nasty fall," sympathized Baker, "and lost a lot of blood before Symonds found you."
"Found me! Where?"
"Right on this floor, sir," volunteered Symonds. "You gave me an awful turn, sir; for you looked more dead than..."—he stopped abruptly as he met Baker's warning glare ... "alive," he supplemented feebly.
At that moment the nurse came in from the sitting room and touched Baker on the shoulder. "You must go at once," she whispered. "You are staying too long. Major Goddard must not be excited."
"In a second, nurse." Baker waved her impatiently away, and turned again to Goddard. "Had you and Captain Lloyd been talking long before you fell?"
After a prolonged pause came the whisper: "I—I—cannot remember."
Nothing daunted, the Secret Service officer pursued his examination.
"Did Captain Lloyd tell you that an important despatch,provingMiss Nancy Newton a rebel spy, had been stolen from him by her?"
Goddard was so long in answering that Baker glanced anxiously at the silent figure on the bed. Goddard's face matched the whiteness of the pillow case. He must have felt the scrutiny of Baker's searching eyes, for he moved slightly. Again came the same whisper: "I—I—cannot remember."
"Now, see here." Baker's voice rose.
Goddard held up a shaking hand. "Wait, Colonel," he stammered. "You forget I am ill—faint—perhaps later—" He paused for breath. "Instead of coming to me, why don't you ask Captain Lloyd?"
"For the very good reason that Lloyd is dead," returned Baker solemnly.
"Dead!" Goddard half rose; then sank back on his pillows, panting from his exertions.
"Yes, dead," went on Baker, watching him closely. "Brutally murdered last evening." He paused.
"Where?" Goddard's white lips formed the question; the whispered word could hardly be heard.
"Here in this room while lying on his bed. Now, Major Goddard, I insist upon knowing..." He spoke to deaf ears; Goddard had fainted away.
A firm hand descended on Baker's shoulder, and swung him about face.
"What in hell do you mean by browbeating my nurse and forcing yourself in here!" exclaimed Doctor Ward hotly. "Good God! What have you done to Goddard!" He had caught sight of the latter's ghastly face. "Nurse, look to your patient! Now, sir, out with you." He pushed Baker in the direction of the door. "And you go, too, Symonds," as the man rose and stood uncertain whether or not to assist Colonel Baker in his efforts to remain in the room.
"I have a perfect right to come here," stormed Baker, bracing his thick-set figure against the door jamb. "I am investigating Captain Lloyd's murder, and came here to get Major Goddard's testimony. You forget, Doctor, I am the head of the Secret Service of this city."
"I don't care a damn who you are," roared Ward, much incensed. "In managing a sick room, I take my orders from no one. Major Goddard was in no condition to be interviewed. I have carefully kept all sensational news from him. By your crass stupidity you have probably brought on a relapse. When he is able he will give his testimony before a court composed of his superior officers and to no one else. Now, go!" And he closed the door in Baker's indignant face.
CHAPTER XX
THE TURNING POINT
Doctor Ward's fears for his patient's condition were well founded. The shock of his interview with Baker in his weakened condition brought on an attack of brain fever, and for days Goddard's life hung in the balance. An experienced Sister of Mercy replaced the young nurse from the United States Sanitary Commission; and at Doctor Ward's earnest request the provost marshal stationed a sentry at Goddard's door with orders to admit no one to the sick room except by the doctor's express permission. Anxious days followed, the doctor and the nurse grimly contesting each step of the way as Goddard sank nearer and nearer the Valley of the Shadow.
Ward bent over the bed, and anxiously scanned Goddard's bloodless face; then rose and tiptoed softly about the room. He was weary from his long vigil by the bedside; it was a relief to stretch his cramped limbs while he waited for the crisis to pass.
"Have you heard anything more about the arrangements for Miss Newton's trial?" asked Sister Angelica softly.
"No, except that the hearing has been again postponed."
"I cannot believe the charges against Miss Newton," murmured the sister. "I have seen her frequently at the hospitals when she came to read to the convalescents and bring them pickles."
"Pickles?"
"Yes, sir. The soldiers prefer them to many luxuries. I have seen Miss Newton do many kind and generous acts. It is incredible that she should have planned and carried out so deliberate and cold-blooded a murder."
"Judge Holt asked me to-day—" The doctor's hurried whisper was interrupted by a sound from the bed, and he hurried to his patient.
Goddard lay on his back, gazing with unseeing eyes at the ceiling, one thin arm tossed across the pillow. "Nancy," he whispered; "Nancy!"
"He is always calling her name," murmured Sister Angelica. "Poor fellow—poor girl!"
"Aye," muttered Ward under his breath. "God help them both—one here and one in prison!"
"Nancy." Goddard's weak voice seemed to gain in strength. "Don't cry, dear. I am coming." A feeble smile lighted his face; he turned slightly, his eyes closed, and, with a sigh like a tired child, he slept.
Ward's hand sought Goddard's pulse. He touched the white cheek. The skin was cool and moist. Turning to the nurse, his eyes dancing with delight, he whispered: "The fever is broken. At last Major Goddard is sleeping naturally."
Sister Angelica's fervid "Thank God!" was lost in the folds of the sash curtain as she pulled up the shade and let the daylight enter the sick room.
The days passed on leaden feet for Nancy. The suspense and close confinement told even on her splendid constitution, and she grew but a shadow of her former self. The prison food was not inviting; only when pangs of hunger forced her could she swallow the unappetizing half-cooked meats and sour bread which were brought to her on a tin plate by a slatternly negress.
Occasionally the superintendent sent her word of Robert Goddard's condition, but that was all she heard from the outside world. The negress, who tidied her room and brought her meals, had received orders not to speak to the prisoner, and the soldiers on guard at the prison were, with few exceptions, Germans, who did not understand or speak much English. Sometimes Nancy actually ached to hear the sound of friendly voices. The only break in the daily monotony was the nine-o'clock inspection of prisoners, which occurred each morning, as well as at night. Nancy spent most of her days standing near the window and gazing with wistful eyes at the other prisoners, who were allowed fresh-air exercise in the courtyard under the watchful eyes of the sentries.
The horrors of the long, sleepless nights were added to by the presence of rats, who scampered noisily back and forth across the bare floor. Nancy had discovered one on her bed the second night of her imprisonment, and her screams brought the guard on the double quick.
"Vat ess de drouble?" he demanded, dashing open the door. He leveled his Springfield full at the girl, and she heard the click of the hammer. Another soldier came in, carrying a lantern, and Nancy, huddled in one corner of her cot, hastily drew the bedclothes about her.
"Rats. Look!" And she pointed to a gray body disappearing down a hole in one of the corners of the room.
"Ah, Himmel! Dey ess all ober," remarked the guard stolidly, as he lowered his rifle. "Dere ess no use to holler. We can do nuddings."
"Do you mean to say I have to lie here while those vile creatures run over me?" exclaimed Nancy wrathfully.
"Ya."
"Go tell Superintendent Wood I wish to see him at once," imperiously.
"Nein," both soldiers spoke at once.
"And you call yourselves men!" ejaculated Nancy scornfully.
"We fight mit Siegel for de Union," retorted the sentry, retreating to the hall, "and not mit rats." He shut the door and shot the bolt in place. Nancy was once again in solitary confinement.
To Miss Metoaca and Senator Warren the days fled by all too quickly. Try as they did, they could find no evidence, no clue that would benefit Nancy, or prove another guilty of the crime she was charged with. Secretary Stanton was deaf to all appeals that Nancy's captivity be lightened, and that her aunt be permitted to see her.
"Treason must be, shall be, punished," he declared. "Miss Newton will be given an opportunity to clear herself of the charges against her before a military commission. Until then she must remain in solitary confinement."
Miss Metoaca refused to be cast down by her rebuffs, and doggedly persisted in her efforts to obtain Nancy's freedom. She took no part in the city's mad rejoicing over the fall of Richmond; she was too sick at heart over her niece's threatened fate.
On the afternoon of the eighth of April she was taking off her wraps in her own room in a thoroughly discouraged frame of mind. She had just called on Doctor Ward, who had courteously but firmly refused to allow her to see Goddard.
"What is it, Jonas?" she demanded crossly, in answer to a timid knock on her door.
"Mrs. Arnold an' Mrs. Bennett am down in de pawler, Miss Turkey." No negro had ever been able to pronounce Miss Metoaca's name, and she had been accustomed from childhood to being called "Miss Turkey" by her domestics. "Dey done seed yo' come home, an' I'se jes' 'bliged ter show dem in."
Miss Metoaca considered for a moment. Nancy had confided her suspicions in regard to Mrs. Bennett to her aunt in February. Should she receive her now? She had called repeatedly since Nancy's arrest, but Miss Metoaca had always excused herself. This time she was inside the house, perhaps already spying around. Miss Metoaca came to a sudden resolution. "Tell the ladies I will be right down," she called to the waiting servant, and, true to her words, she joined them without further loss of time.
"My dear Miss Metoaca," began Mrs. Arnold pompously, but the look in the spinster's red eyes went straight to her heart, and she threw her arms impulsively about her in a warm embrace without completing her sentence.
"It is good of you to come," said Miss Metoaca, touched by Mrs. Arnold's greeting. "I—I—was feeling very downhearted."
"And no wonder," purred Mrs. Bennett, wiping her eyes with a dainty handkerchief. "You have borne a great deal, Miss Metoaca, and have our deepest sympathy."
"You crocodile," thought the spinster, as she said aloud: "It is cruel, cruel! Nancy never committed that crime,never."
Mrs. Arnold and her friend exchanged doubtful glances.
"Have you been allowed to see your niece?" inquired the latter, as Mrs. Arnold seemed at a loss for words.
"No; and I am convinced the food and clothes I send her never get past the inspector's office."
"Have you appealed to the President?"
"Have I?" Miss Metoaca's tone was eloquent. "I have tormented that poor man nearly to death."
"Did he give you no comfort?" asked Mrs. Arnold. "Usually President Lincoln is only too anxious to sign pardons."
"He doesn't seem to be in this instance," dryly. "He insists that an open trial will be the best thing for Nancy. 'Murder is evil,' he said; 'evil cannot stand discussion. The more the mystery is discussed the quicker you will discover clues leading to the murderer. What kills the skunk is the publicity it gives itself. What a skunk wants to do is to keep snug under the barn—in the daytime—when men are around with shotguns.'"
"Is Sam working for you now?" inquired Mrs. Arnold, after a slight pause.
"Sam!" echoed Miss Metoaca, her surprise causing her to raise her voice.
Seeing Mrs. Arnold was flurried by the apparent effect of her innocent remark on Miss Metoaca, Mrs. Bennett answered for her.
"My husband and I met Nancy conversing with the negro Sam, about six o'clock on the afternoon that Captain Lloyd—ah—died." Miss Metoaca was intently studying the speaker's face, but she could learn nothing from the innocent blue eyes raised so confidingly to hers. "Nancy told us then that Sam, who has often waited on me, was anxious to secure a place in a private family...."
"And so," broke in Mrs. Arnold, "as I am in need of another man-servant, I came to inquire about Sam."
"Now that is too bad," exclaimed Miss Metoaca, rallying her wits to her aid. "I wish I had known before that you needed a servant, Mrs. Arnold. Sam came to me and asked me to find him a place, so I sent him over to my cousin, Mrs. Hillen, in Baltimore, as she wanted a good butler." Her tranquil manner effectually covered a rapidly beating heart. How much did Mrs. Bennett know about Sam, and where had she gained her information?
"Great heavens! What is that?" exclaimed Mrs. Bennett, startled out of her usual calm as a long-drawn howl came from the back of the house.
"It's Misery. Poor dog! He is grieving his heart out for Nancy. I suspect Jonas has forgotten and shut him in the pantry." Miss Metoaca made a motion to rise.
"Sit still, dear." Mrs. Bennett detained her by a gesture. "I will go and release Misery." And before the perturbed spinster could stop her she had tripped gracefully out of the room.
"Here is Senator Warren," remarked Mrs. Arnold, catching sight of him through the window as he came up the steps; and Miss Metoaca, all else forgotten, hastened to the front door.
As Warren greeted her, the shrill voices of newsboys shouting "Extra!" "Extra!" sounded down the street, and, with a muttered word of apology, he waited on the steps until a newsboy saw his beckoning hand and rushed up with the paper. Miss Metoaca and Mrs. Arnold, who had joined her, read the flaring headlines over Warren's shoulder:
STIRRING NEWS FROM THE FRONT!Lee Overwhelmed!Grant Crushing Him on the East!!Sheridan on the West!!!
STIRRING NEWS FROM THE FRONT!Lee Overwhelmed!Grant Crushing Him on the East!!Sheridan on the West!!!
Warren raised his hat reverently. "The end is in sight! Thank God! Thank God!"
"Oh, Idothank God! This cruel war!" Miss Metoaca choked, and turned to Mrs. Arnold, who was weeping softly. "Let us go inside." And she led the way into the hall, where Warren detained her.
"I only came to tell you that the military commission meets day after to-morrow, the tenth, to try Nancy."
Miss Metoaca drew a long breath. "Anything is better than this suspense."
Warren nodded understandingly. "I am to see Nancy to-morrow. The judge advocate has furnished me with a copy of the charges. Did Ward allow you to talk with Goddard?"
"No."
"How strange!" exclaimed Mrs. Bennett, who had rejoined them, dropping the extra which she and Mrs. Arnold were busy reading. "I hear the major is almost well again. Do you know," warming to the subject, "I consider Doctor Ward is acting very mysteriously in regard to Major Goddard's condition."
"Indeed? In what way, Mrs. Bennett?" Warren pricked up his ears.
"By his persistent refusals to let anyone into Major Goddard's sick room. And I am not the only one who thinks so." She paused impressively, then went on: "Colonel Baker told me that he was convinced the last time he talked with Major Goddard that he had regained his sight."
"Is that so?" Warren looked his disbelief. "I will inquire into it. Good night, Miss Metoaca; I must be running along."
"And we have to go, too," declared Mrs. Arnold. "Don't be discouraged, dear Miss Metoaca." And she gave the spinster an encouraging pat on her shoulder.
"Don't allow your mind to dwell too much on your worries," advised Mrs. Bennett soothingly, as she followed the senator down the steps.
Miss Metoaca nodded a smiling farewell, but when the door was safely shut the smile faded, and instead her face looked pinched and drawn. Deep in thought she hastened to the morning room, which was back of the dining room, and sat down at her desk to scribble a line to her cousin, Mrs. Hillen.
To a casual eye the desk was as she had left it two hours before. But Miss Metoaca had a well-developed bump of order, the terror of her servants, and nothing escaped her eagle eye. One glance showed her the desk ornaments had been moved. Dropping her pen, Miss Metoaca opened several of the drawers. One look was enough to show her that their contents had been disturbed. Every paper was tossed and tumbled.
Feverishly Miss Metoaca went through the remaining drawers. Apparently nothing had been removed. Just as she was drawing a long breath of relief, her hand touched a note book concealed under a mass of papers at the back of the bottom drawer. Pulling it out, Miss Metoaca found that the book was one used by Nancy to keep the marketing accounts and other memoranda. She turned the pages hastily—five sheets had been torn out! The book fell unheeded on the floor, as Miss Metoaca bowed her head in her trembling hands.
CHAPTER XXI
THE TRIAL
On the morning of the tenth, Senator Warren had difficulty in reaching the office building on Fourteenth Street, where Nancy's trial was to be held. The official news of Lee's surrender had just been received at the Capitol, and the streets were jammed with excited, cheering crowds. Despite the drizzling rain, groups of citizens paraded, singing "Old Hundred" with more fervor than harmony, and military bands added their din to the confusion. As far as the eye could see, flags and gay bunting waved from every public building and residence.
As Warren pushed his way through a crowd of negroes, who were almost delirious with joy, he heard the boom of the distant guns in the fortifications about Washington firing the two hundred salutes ordered by Secretary Stanton. On entering the long room assigned for the use of the court, he found the members of the military commission had assembled. Warren already knew Colonel Andrews, who, by the seniority of his rank, was the president of the commission, and they exchanged a few words of greeting. The colonel beckoned to a tall, bearded officer standing by the door to approach.
"Senator Warren, let me introduce Captain Foster, the judge advocate."
The two men examined each other covertly and with keen interest; they both realized the gravity of the struggle before them—a young girl's life hung in the balance—as they gravely shook hands.
"If you are ready, Mr. Senator, we will call the court to order, as we are already very late, having been detained by the celebration of Lee's surrender," said Foster courteously. "The necessary witnesses are in the next room, and the sergeant tells me the prisoner is downstairs under guard."
At that moment a young man came into the room, and, seeing Warren, strode over to him.
"Good morning, Dwight," said the senator. "Colonel Andrews—Captain Foster—this is my colleague, Mr. Dwight, a member of the Washington Bar, who will assist me in my defence of Miss Newton. I am quite ready to commence at once, Captain Foster."
In the meantime the seats provided for the spectators in the back of the room were being rapidly filled. Both Miss Metoaca and Nancy were very popular in Washington society, and all their friends and relatives who could procure cards of admission from the authorities had arrived early so as not to miss any of the proceedings.
A long table with writing materials on it had been provided for the use of the members of the court, and a smaller one for Nancy and her counsel was placed near it. Facing the two tables was a chair for the witnesses, and beyond that another small table for the use of the reporters.
The officers, who wore their full-dress uniforms and side arms, were soon seated about the table, with the presiding officer, Colonel Andrews, at the head, and the judge advocate, Captain Foster, in undress uniform, facing him at the foot. At a signal from the judge advocate, one of the orderlies in attendance stepped to the door and spoke to the sentry.
In a few minutes, Nancy was ushered into the room by the provost sergeant of the guard. Warren rose instantly, and escorted her to her seat, and his eyes flashed in admiration of her poise and beauty.
Tranquilly and with dignity, she returned the salutes of the officers; if she had been receiving them in her own drawing-room, her manner could not have been more composed.
Mrs. Warren, who sat between Mrs. Arnold and Mrs. Bennett, noticed with pitying heart the deep shadows under Nancy's eyes and the hollows in her white cheeks. She bent forward, and impulsively kissed her hand to Nancy when the latter looked wistfully at her, and was promptly rebuked by the presiding officer. Nancy had hoped that her aunt would be present, but Warren had decided to call Miss Metoaca as one of the witnesses for the defence, and therefore she could not attend the hearings.
The judge advocate rapped for order; then rose and signed to Nancy to do likewise as he read from a paper in his hand:
"Special OrdersNo. 576BracketWar Department,Office of the Adjutant-General,April 8th, 1865."4 . . . A Military Commission is appointed to meet in the City of Washington, District of Columbia, at nine o'clock on Monday, April 10th, 1865, for the trial of Miss Nancy Newton."Detail for the Commission"Colonel AndrewsU.S. VolunteersMajor Charles LaneU.S. Veterans Reserve CorpsCaptain John Taylor1st Squadron Provisional CavalryLieutenant Joseph Clarke1st Mass. Heavy ArtilleryLieutenant Henry Wells1st N.H. Heavy ArtilleryLieutenant Harvey Slocum3rd Mass. Heavy ArtilleryLieutenant James Phillipse2nd District Volunteer CavalryCaptain George Foster—th U.S. Infantry, Judge Advocate and Recorder."A greater number of officers cannot be assembled without manifest injury to the service at this time."By command of the President."E. D. Townsend,Assistant Adjutant-General."
"4 . . . A Military Commission is appointed to meet in the City of Washington, District of Columbia, at nine o'clock on Monday, April 10th, 1865, for the trial of Miss Nancy Newton.
"Detail for the Commission
"A greater number of officers cannot be assembled without manifest injury to the service at this time.
"By command of the President.
"E. D. Townsend,Assistant Adjutant-General."
"Prisoner," the judge advocate turned and faced her directly, "do you object to being tried by any member of this commission?"
"No, sir," answered Nancy calmly.
The officers all rose and stood, while the judge advocate went through the long ceremony of swearing in the court and then the reporter. Colonel Andrews in turn administered the oath to the judge advocate. After the officers had resumed their seats there was a slight pause while the judge advocate searched among his papers. Finding what he wanted, he again faced Nancy, who had remained standing, and read in a voice that was clearly heard through the room: