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diff --git a/44659-0.txt b/44659-0.txt index f739dc1..ef13219 100644 --- a/44659-0.txt +++ b/44659-0.txt @@ -1,38 +1,4 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook, Secret Service, by Cyrus Townsend Brady, -Illustrated by The Kinneys - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - - - - -Title: Secret Service - Being the Happenings of a Night in Richmond in the Spring of 1865 Done into Book Form from the Play by WIlliam Gillette - - -Author: Cyrus Townsend Brady - - - -Release Date: January 14, 2014 [eBook #44659] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SECRET SERVICE*** - - -E-text prepared by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed Proofreading -Team (http://www.pgdp.net) - - - -Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this - file which includes the original illustrations. - See 44659-h.htm or 44659-h.zip: - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/44659/44659-h/44659-h.htm) - or - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/44659/44659-h.zip) - - - - - -[Illustration: "If he wanted to fight, he'd hardly be in an office"] - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - -SECRET SERVICE - -Being the Happenings of a Night in Richmond in the Spring of 1865 -Done into Book Form from the Play by William Gillette - -by - -CYRUS TOWNSEND BRADY - -Illustrated by the Kinneys - - - - - - - -New York -Grosset & Dunlap -Publishers - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - -Copyright, 1912, by -Dodd, Mead and Company - -Published, January, 1912 - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - I DEDICATE MY SHARE OF THIS JOINT PRODUCTION - TO - -The many people of the stage, personally known and unknown by me, who -have so often interested, amused, instructed, and inspired me by their -presentations of life in all its infinite variety. They are a much -misunderstood people by the public generally, and I take this occasion -to testify that, in my wide acquaintance with stage people, I have found -them as gentle, as generous, as refined, and as considerate as any group -of people with whom I have associated in my long and varied career. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - PREFACE - -Once upon a time a novel of mine was turned into a play. The dramatist -who prepared the story for stage production sent me a copy of his -efforts toward that end. About the only point of resemblance between his -production and mine was the fact that they both bore the same title, the -hero in each had the same name, and the action in both cases took place -on this earth. - -I was a young author then, and timid. I ventured humbly to enquire why -the drama differed so entirely from the novel; and this ingenious, I -might almost say ingenuous, explanation was vouchsafed me: - -"Well, to tell you the truth, after I had read a chapter or two of your -book, I lost it, and I just wrote the play from my own imagination." - -I do not wish to criticise the results of his efforts, for he has since -proved himself to be a dramatist of skill and ability, but to describe -that particular effort as a dramatisation of my book was absurd. -Incidentally, it was absurd in other ways and, fortunately for the -reputation of both of us, it never saw the light. - -When my dear friends, the publishers, asked me to turn this play into a -novel, I recalled my experience of by-gone days, and the idea flashed -into my mind that here was an opportunity to get even, but I am a -preacher as well as a story-writer, and in either capacity I found I -could not do it. Frankly, I did not want to do it. - -My experience, however, has made me perhaps unduly sensitive, and I -determined, since I had undertaken this work, to make it represent Mr. -Gillette's remarkable and brilliant play as faithfully as I could, and I -have done so. I have used my own words only in those slight changes -necessitated by book presentation instead of production on the stage. I -have entered into as few explanations as possible and have limited my -own discussion of the characters, their motives, and their actions, to -what was absolutely necessary to enable the reader to comprehend. On the -stage much is left to the eye which has to be conveyed by words in a -book, and this is my excuse for even those few digressions that appear. - -I have endeavoured to subordinate my own imagination to that of the -accomplished playwright. I have played something of the part of the old -Greek Chorus which explained the drama, and there has been a touch of -the scene-painter's art in my small contribution to the book. - -Otherwise, I have not felt at liberty to make any departure from the -setting, properties, episodes, actions, or dialogue. Mine has been a -very small share in this joint production. The story and the glory are -Mr. Gillette's, not mine. And I am cheerfully determined that as the -author of the first, he shall have all of the second. - - Cyrus Townsend Brady. - - St. George's Rectory, - Kansas City, Mo., November, 1911. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - -CONTENTS - - BOOK I - WHAT HAPPENED AT EIGHT O'CLOCK - - I The Battery Passes 3 - II A Commission from the President 18 - III Orders to Captain Thorne 34 - IV Miss Mitford's Intervention 49 - V The Unfaithful Servant 69 - VI The Confidence of Edith Varney 86 - - BOOK II - WHAT HAPPENED AT NINE O'CLOCK - - VII Wilfred Writes a Letter 105 - VIII Edith Is Forced to Play the Game 133 - IX The Shot That Killed 154 - - BOOK III - WHAT HAPPENED AT TEN O'CLOCK - - X Caroline Mitford Writes a Despatch 173 - XI Mr. Arrelsford Again Interposes 187 - XII Thorne Takes Charge of the Telegraph 204 - XIII The Tables Are Turned 217 - XIV The Call of the Key 229 - XV Love and Duty at the Touch 247 - - BOOK IV - WHAT HAPPENED AT ELEVEN O'CLOCK - - XVI The Tumult in Human Hearts 261 - XVII Wilfred Plays the Man 271 -XVIII Captain Thorne Justifies Himself 292 - XIX The Drumhead Court-Martial 301 - XX The Last Reprieve 318 - - Afterword 330 - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - BOOK I - - WHAT HAPPENED AT EIGHT O'CLOCK - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - CHAPTER I - - THE BATTERY PASSES - - -Outside, the softness of an April night; the verdure of tree and lawn, -the climbing roses, already far advanced in that southern latitude, -sweetly silvered in the moonlight. Within the great old house apparently -an equal calm. - -Yet, neither within nor without was the night absolutely soundless. Far -away to the southward the cloudless horizon, easily visible from the -slight eminence on which the house stood, was marked by quivering -flashes of lurid light. From time to time, the attentive ear might catch -the roll, the roar, the reverberation of heavy sound like distant -thunder-peals intermingled with sharper detonations. The flashes came -from great guns, and the rolling peals were the sound of the cannon, the -detonations explosions of the shells. There was the peace of God in the -heaven above; there were the passions of men on the earth beneath. - -Lights gleamed here and there, shining through the twining rose foliage, -from the windows of the old house, which stood far back from the street. -From a room on one side of the hall, which opened from the broad -pillared portico of Colonial fashion, a hum of voices arose. - -A group of women, with nervous hands and anxious faces, working while -they talked, were picking lint, tearing linen and cotton for bandages. -Their conversation was not the idle chatter of other days. They "told -sad stories of the death of kings!" How "Tom" and "Charles" and "Allen" -and "Page" and "Burton" had gone down into the Valley of the Shadow of -Death, whence they had not come back. How this fort had been hammered -yesterday, the other, the day before. How So-and-So's wounds had been -ministered to. How Such-a-One's needs had been relieved. How the enemy -were drawing closer and closer and closer, and how they were being held -back with courage, which, alas! by that time was the courage of despair. -And much of their speech was of their own kind, of bereft women and -fatherless children. And ever as they talked, the busy fingers flew. - -Upstairs from one of the front rooms the light shone dimly through a -window partly covered by a half-drawn Venetian blind. One standing at -the side of the house and listening would have heard out of the chamber -low moanings, muttered words from feverish lips and delirious brain. The -meaningless yet awful babble was broken now and again by words of -tenderness and anguish. Soft hands were laid on the burning brow of the -poor sufferer within, while a mother's eyes dropped tears upon -bloodstained bandages and wasted frame. - -And now the gentle wind which swept softly through the trees bore a -sudden sharper, stranger sound toward the old house in the garden. The -tramp of horse, the creak of wheels, the faint jingling of arms and -sabres drew nearer and rose louder. Sudden words of command punctured -the night. Here came a battery, without the rattle of drum or the blare -of bugles, with no sound but its own galloping it rolled down the -street. Lean, gaunt horses were ridden and driven by leaner and gaunter -men in dusty, worn, ragged, tattered uniforms. Only the highly polished -brass guns--twelve-pounder Napoleons--gleamed bright in the moonlight. - -The sewing women came out on the porch and the blind of the window above -was lifted and a white-haired woman stood framed in the light. - -No, those watchers did not cheer as the battery swept by on its way to -the front. For one thing, a soldier lay upstairs dying; for another, -they had passed the time when they cheered that tattered flag. Now they -wept over it as one weeps as he beholds for the last time the face of a -friend who dies. Once they had acclaimed it as the sunrise in the -morning, now they watched it silently go inevitably to the sunset of -defeat. - -The men did not cheer either. They were not past cheering--oh, no! They -were made of rougher stuff than the women, and the time would come when, -in final action, they would burst forth into that strange, wild yell -that struck terror to the hearts of the hearers. They could cheer even -in the last ditch, even in the jaws of death--face the end better for -their cheering perhaps; but women are more silent in the crisis. They -bear and give no tongue. - -The officer in command saw the little group of women on the porch. The -moonlight shone from the street side and high-lighted them, turning the -rusty black of most of the gowns, home-dyed mourning,--all that could be -come at in those last awful days in Richmond,--into soft shadows, above -which their faces shone angelic. He saw the woman's head in the window, -too. He knew who lay upon the bed of death within the chamber. He had -helped to bring him back from the front several days before. He bit his -lips for a moment and then, ashamed of his emotion, his voice rang -harsh. With arm and sabre the battery saluted the women and passed on, -while from the window of the great drawing-room, opposite the room of -the lint-pickers and bandage-tearers, a slender boy stared and stared -after the disappearing guns, his eyes full of envy and vexatious tears -as he stamped his foot in futile protest and disappointment. - -The noise made by the passing cannon soon died away in the distance. -Stillness supervened as before; workers whispered together, realising -that some of those passing upon whom they had looked would pass no more, -and that they would look upon them never again. Upstairs the moans of -the wounded man had died away, the only thing that persisted was the -fearful thundering of the distant guns around beleaguered Petersburg. -Within the drawing-room, the boy walked up and down restlessly, -muttering to himself, evidently nerving himself to desperate resolution. - -"I won't do it," he said. "I won't stay here any longer." - -He threw up his hands and turned to the portraits that adorned the room, -portraits that carried one back through centuries to the days of the -first cavalier of the family, who crossed the seas to seek his fortune -in a new land, and it was a singular thing that practically every one of -them wore a sword. - -"You all fought," said the boy passionately, "and I am going to." - -The door at the other end was softly opened. The great room was but -dimly lighted by candles in sconces on the wall; the great chandelier -was not lighted for lack of tapers, but a more brilliant radiance was -presently cast over the apartment by the advent of old Martha. She had -been the boy's "Mammy" and the boy's father's "Mammy" as well, and no -one dared to speculate how much farther into the past she ran back. - -"Is dat you, Mars Wilfred?" said the old woman, waddling into the room, -both hands extended, bearing two many-branched candle-sticks, which she -proceeded to deposit upon the handsome mahogany tables with which the -long drawing-room was furnished. - -"Yes, it is I, Aunt Martha. Did you see Benton's Battery go by?" - -"Lawd lub you, chile, Ah done seed so many guns an' hosses an' soljahs -a-gwine by Ah don't tek no notice ob 'em no mo'. 'Peahs lak dey keep on -a-passin' by fo'ebah." - -"Well, there won't be many more of them pass by," said the boy in a -clear accent, but with that soft intonation which would have betrayed -his Southern ancestry anywhere, "and before they are all gone, I would -like to join one of them myself." - -"Why, my po' li'l lamb!" exclaimed Martha, her arms akimbo, "dat Ah done -nussed in dese ahms, is you gwine to de fight!" - -The boy's demeanour was anything but lamb-like. He made a fierce step -toward her. - -"Don't you call me 'lamb' any more," he said, "it's ridiculous and----" - -Mammy Martha started back in alarm. - -"'Peahs mo' lak a lion'd be better," she admitted. - -"Where's mother?" asked the boy, dismissing the subject as unworthy of -argument. - -"I reckon she's upstaihs wid Mars Howard, suh. Yo' bruddah----" - -"I want to see her right away," continued the boy impetuously. - -"Mars Howard he's putty bad dis ebenin'," returned Martha. "Ah bettah go -an' tell her dat you want her, but Ah dunno's she'd want to leab him." - -"Well, you tell her to come as soon as she can. I'm awfully sorry for -Howard, but it's living men that the Confederacy needs most now." - -"Yas, suh," returned the old nurse, with a quizzical look out of her -black eyes at the slender boy before her. "Dey suah does need men," she -continued, and as the youngster took a passionate step toward her, she -deftly passed out of the room and closed the door behind her, and he -could hear her ponderous footsteps slowly and heavily mounting the -steps. - -The boy went to the window again and stared into the night. In his -preoccupation he did not catch the sound of a gentler footfall upon the -stairs, nor did he notice the opening of the door and the silent -approach of a woman, the woman with white hair who had stood at the -window. The mother of a son dead, a son dying, and a son living. No -distinctive thing that in the Confederacy. Almost any mother who had -more than one boy could have been justly so characterised. She stopped -half-way down the room and looked lovingly and longingly at the slight, -graceful figure of her youngest son. Her eyes filled with tears--for the -dying or the living or both? Who can say? She went toward him, laid her -hand on his shoulder. He turned instantly and at the sight of her tears -burst out quickly: - -"Howard isn't worse, is he?" for a moment forgetful of all else. - -The woman shook her head. - -"I am afraid he is. The sound of that passing battery seemed to excite -him so. He thought he was at the front again and wanted to get up." - -"Poor old Howard!" - -"He's quieter now, perhaps----" - -"Mother, is there anything I can do for him?" - -"No, my son," answered the woman with a sigh, "I don't think there is -anything that anybody can do. We can only wait--and hope. He is in God's -hands, not ours." - -She lifted her face for a moment and saw beyond the room, through the -night, and beyond the stars a Presence Divine, to Whom thousands of -other women in that dying Confederacy made daily, hourly, and momentary -prayers. Less exalted, more human, less touched, the boy bowed his head, -not without his own prayer, too. - -"But you wanted to see me, Wilfred, Martha said," the woman presently -began. - -"Yes, mother, I----" - -The boy stopped and the woman was in no hurry to press him. She divined -what was coming and would fain have avoided it all. - -"I am thankful there is a lull in the cannonading," she said, listening. -"I wonder why it has stopped?" - -"It has not stopped," said Wilfred, "at least it has gone on all -evening." - -"I don't hear it now." - -"No, but you will--there!" - -"Yes, but compared to what it was yesterday--you know how it shook the -house--and Howard suffered so through it." - -"So did I," said the boy in a low voice fraught with passion. - -"You, my son?" - -"Yes, mother, when I hear those guns and know that the fighting is going -on, it fairly maddens me----" - -But Mrs. Varney hastily interrupted her boy. Woman-like she would thrust -from her the decision which she knew would be imposed upon her. - -"Yes, yes," she said; "I know how you suffered,--we all suffered, -we----" She turned away, sat down in a chair beside the table, leaned -her head in her hands, and gave way to her emotions. "There has been -nothing but suffering, suffering since this awful war began," she -murmured. - -"Mother," said Wilfred abruptly, "I want to speak to you. You don't like -it, of course, but you have just got to listen this time." - -Mrs. Varney lifted her head from her hands. Wilfred came nearer to her -and dropped on his knees by her side. One hand she laid upon his -shoulder, the other on his head. She stared down into his up-turned -face. - -"I know--I know, my boy--what you want." - -"I can't stay here any longer," said the youth; "it is worse than being -shot to pieces. I just have to chain myself to the floor whenever I hear -a cannon-shot or see a soldier. When can I go?" - -The woman stared at him. In him she saw faintly the face of the boy -dying upstairs. In him she saw the white face of the boy who lay under -the sun and dew, dead at Seven Pines. In him she saw all her kith and -kin, who, true to the traditions of that house, had given up their lives -for a cause now practically lost. She could not give up the last one. -She drew him gently to her, but, boy-like, he disengaged himself and -drew away with a shake of his head, not that he loved his mother the -less, but honour--as he saw it--the more. - -"Why don't you speak?" he whispered at last. - -"I don't know what to say to you, Wilfred," faltered his mother, -although there was but one thing to say, and she knew that she must say -it, yet she was fighting, woman-like, for time. - -"I will tell you what to say," said the boy. - -"What?" - -"Say that you won't mind if I go down to Petersburg and enlist." - -"But that would not be true, Wilfred," said his mother, smiling faintly. - -"True or not, mother, I can't stay here." - -"Oh, Wilfred, Russell has gone, and Howard is going, and now you want to -go and get killed." - -"I don't want to be killed at all, mother." - -"But you are so young, my boy." - -"Not younger than Tom Kittridge," answered the boy; "not younger than -Ell Stuart or Cousin Steven or hundreds of other boys down there. See, -mother--they have called for all over eighteen, weeks ago; the seventeen -call may be out any moment; the next one after that takes me. Do you -want me to stay here until I am ordered out! I should think not. Where's -your pride?" - -"My pride? Ah, my son, it is on the battlefield, over at Seven Pines, -and upstairs with Howard." - -"Well, I don't care, mother," he persisted obstinately. "I love you and -all that, you know it,--but I can't stand this. I've got to go. I must -go." - -Mrs. Varney recognised from the ring of determination in the boy's voice -that his mind was made up. She could no longer hold him. With or without -her consent he would go, and why should she withhold it? Other boys as -young as hers had gone and had not come back. Aye, there was the rub: -she had given one, the other trembled on the verge, and now the last -one! Yes, he must go, too,--to live or die as God pleased. If they -wanted her to sacrifice everything on the altar of her country, she had -her own pride, she would do it, as hundreds of other women had done. She -rose from her chair and went toward her boy. He was a slender lad of -sixteen but was quite as tall as she. As he stood there he looked -strangely like his father, thought the woman. - -"Well," she said at last, "I will write to your father and----" - -"But," the boy interrupted in great disappointment, "that'll take -forever. You never can tell where his brigade is from day to day. I -can't wait for you to do that." - -"Wilfred," said his mother, "I can't let you go without his consent. You -must be patient. I will write the letter at once, and we will send it by -a special messenger. You ought to hear by to-morrow." - -The boy turned away impatiently and strode toward the door. - -"Wilfred," said his mother gently. The tender appeal in her voice -checked him. She came over to him and put her arm about his shoulders. -"Don't feel bad, my boy, that you have to stay another day with your -mother. It may be many days, you know, before----" - -"It isn't that," said Wilfred. - -"My darling boy--I know it. You want to fight for your country--and I'm -proud of you. I want my sons to do their duty. But with your father at -the front, one boy dead, and the other wounded, dying----" - -She turned away. - -"You will write father to-night, won't you?" - -"Yes--yes!" - -"I'll wait, then, until we have had time to get a reply," said the boy. - -"Yes, and then you will go away. I know what your father's answer will -be. The last of my boys--Oh, God, my boys!" - - - - - CHAPTER II - - A COMMISSION FROM THE PRESIDENT - - -The door giving entrance to the hall was opened unceremoniously by the -rotund and privileged Martha. She came at an opportune time, relieving -the tension between the mother and son. Wilfred was not insensible to -his mother's feelings, but he was determined to go to the front. He was -glad of the interruption and rather shamefacedly took advantage of it by -leaving the room. - -"Well, Martha, what is it?" asked Mrs. Varney, striving to regain her -composure. - -"Deys one ob de men fum de hossiple heah, ma'am." - -"Another one?" - -"Ah 'clah to goodness, ma'am, dey jes' keeps a-comin' an' a-comin'. -'Peahs like we cain't keep no close fo' ourse'f; de sheets an' -tablecloths an' napkins an' eben de young misstess' petticoats, dey all -hab to go." - -"And we have just sent all the bandages we have," said Mrs. Varney, -smiling. - -"Den we got to git some mo'. Dey says dey's all used up, an' two mo' -trains jes' come in crowded full o' wounded sojahs--an' mos' all ob 'em -dreffeul bad!" - -"Is Miss Kittridge here yet, Martha?" - -"Yas'm, Ah jes' seed her goin' thu de hall into de libr'y." - -"Ask her if they have anything to send. Even if it's only a little let -them have it. What they need most is bandages. There are some in -Howard's room, too. Give them half of what you find there. I think what -we have left will last long enough to--to----" - -"Yas'm," said old Martha, sniffing. "Ah'm a-gwine. Does you want to see -de man?" - -"Yes, send him in," said Mrs. Varney. - -There was a light tap on the door after Martha went out. - -"Come in," said the mistress of the house, and there entered to her a -battered and dilapidated specimen of young humanity, his arm in a sling. -"My poor man!" exclaimed Mrs. Varney. "Sit down." - -"Thank you, ma'am." - -"Martha," she called to the old woman, who paused at the door on her way -to the stairs, "can't you get something to eat and drink for this -gentleman?" - -"Well, the pantry ain't obahflowin', as you know, Mrs. Varney. But Ah -reckon Ah might fin' a glass o' milk ef Ah jes' had to." - -"All our wine has gone long ago," said Mrs. Varney to the soldier, "but -if a glass of milk----" - -"I haven't seen a glass of milk for three years, ma'am," answered the -man, smiling; "it would taste like nectar." - -"Martha will set it for you in the dining-room while you are waiting. -What hospital did you come from, by the way?" - -"The Winder, ma'am." - -"And is it full?" - -"They are laying them on blankets on the floor. You can hardly step for -wounded men." - -"I suppose you need everything?" - -"Everything, but especially bandages." - -"Have you been over to St. Paul's Church? The ladies are working there -to-night." - -"Yes, ma'am, I've been over there, but they're not working for the -hospital; they're making sand-bags for fortifications." - -"And where are you from?" - -"I'm a Louisiana Tiger, ma'am," answered the man proudly. - -"You don't look much like it now," said the woman, smiling. - -"No, I guess the lamb is more like me now, but just wait until I get -well enough to go to the front again," admitted the soldier cheerfully. - -At this moment one of the ladies who had been working in the other room -came in carrying a small packet of bandages done up in a coarse brown -paper. - -"Oh, Miss Kittridge," said Mrs. Varney, "here is the gentleman who----" - -Miss Kittridge was a very business-like person. - -"This is every scrap we have," she said, handing the soldier the parcel -with a little bow. "If you will come back in an hour or two, perhaps we -shall have more for you." - -"Thank you, ladies, and God bless you. I don't know what our poor -fellows in the hospitals would do if it weren't for you." - -"Don't forget your milk in the dining-room," said Mrs. Varney. - -"I'm not likely to, ma'am," returned the soldier, as, in spite of his -wounded arm, he bowed gracefully to the women. - -In the hall Martha's voice could be heard exclaiming: - -"Come right dis way, you po' chile, an' see what Ah's got fo' you in de -dinin'-room." - -"You must be tired to death," said Mrs. Varney to Miss Kittridge, -looking at the white face of the other woman. Her brother had been -killed a few days before, but the clods had scarcely rattled down upon -his coffin before she was energetically at work again--for other women's -brothers. - -"No, no," she said bravely; "and our tiredness is nothing compared to -the weariness of our men. We are going to stay late to-night, Mrs. -Varney, if you will let us. There's so many more wounded come in it -won't do to stop now. We have found some old linen that will make -splendid bandages, and----" - -"My dear girl," said the matron, "stay as long as you possibly can. I -will see if Martha can't serve you something to eat after a while. I -don't believe there is any tea left in the house." - -"Bread and butter will be a feast," said Miss Kittridge. - -"And I don't believe there is much butter either," smiled the older -woman. - -"Well, it doesn't matter," said the other. "Is--is your son--is there -any change?" - -"Not for the better," was the reply. "I am afraid his fever is -increasing." - -"And has the surgeon seen him this evening?" - -"Not to-night." - -"Why not!" exclaimed Miss Kittridge in great surprise. "Surely his -condition is sufficiently critical to demand more than one brief visit -in the morning." - -"I can't ask him to come twice with so many waiting for him," said Mrs. -Varney. - -"But they would not refuse you, Mrs. Varney," said Miss Kittridge -quickly. "There's that man going back to the hospital, he's in the -dining-room yet. I'll call him and send word that----" - -She started impulsively toward the door, but Mrs. Varney caught her by -the arm. - -"No," she said firmly; "I can't let you." - -"Not for your own son?" - -"I am thinking of the sons of other mothers. The surgeon has done all -that he can for him. And think how many other sons would have to be -neglected if he visited mine twice. He will come again to-morrow." - -The second woman stood looking at her in mingled sympathy and amazement, -and there was a touch of pride in her glance, too. She was proud of her -sex, and she had a right to be there in Richmond that spring, if ever. - -"I understand," said Miss Kittridge at last. "I suppose you are right." - -They stared at each other, white-faced, a moment, when there entered to -them youth and beauty incarnate. There was enough resemblance between -the pale, white-haired mother and the girlish figure in the doorway to -proclaim their relationship. The girl's cheek had lost some of its bloom -and some of its roundness. There was too much that was appalling and -fearful in and about Richmond then not to leave its mark even upon the -most youthful and the most buoyant, yet things did not come home to the -young as they did to those older. She was still a lovely picture, -especially in the soft radiance of the candles. She carried her hat in -her hand. The flowers upon it were assuredly those of yester-year, it -would not have passed muster as the mode anywhere except in besieged -Richmond; and her dress, although it fitted her perfectly, was worn and -faded and had been turned and patched and altered until it was quite -beyond further change, yet she wore it as airily as if it had been -tissue of silver or cloth of gold. - -The mother's face brightened. - -"Edith dear," she exclaimed, "how late you are! It is after eight -o'clock. You must be tired out." - -"I am not tired at all," answered the girl cheerily. "I have not been at -the hospital all afternoon; this is my day off. How is Howard?" - -"I wish I could say just the same, but he seems a little worse." - -The girl's face went suddenly grave. She stepped over to her mother, -took her hand and patted it softly. - -"Is there nothing you can do?" - -"My dear," said her mother, "Howard--we--are all in God's hands." - -She drew a long breath and lifted her head bravely. - -"Miss Kittridge," said the girl, "I have something very important to -tell mother, and----" - -Miss Kittridge smiled back at her. - -"I am going right away, honey. There is lots of work for us to do -and----" - -"You don't mind, I hope," said Edith Varney, calling after her as she -went into the hall. - -"No, indeed," was the reply. - -Mrs. Varney sat down wearily by the table, and Edith pulled up a low -stool and sat at her feet. - -"Well, my dear?" - -"Mamma--what do you think? What do you think?" - -"I think a great many things," said Mrs. Varney, "but----" - -"Yes, but you wouldn't ever think of this." - -"Certainly I shall not, unless you tell me." - -"Well, I have been to see the President." - -"The President--Mr. Davis!" - -"Yes." - -"And what did you go to see the President for?" - -"I asked him for an appointment for Captain Thorne." - -"For Captain Thorne! My dear----" - -"Yes, mother, for the War Department Telegraph Service. And he gave it -to me, a special commission. He gave it to me for father's sake and for -Captain Thorne's sake,--he has met him and likes him,--and for my own." - -"What sort of an appointment?" - -"Appointing him to duty here in Richmond, a very important position. He -won't be sent to the front, and he will be doing his duty just the -same." - -"But, Edith, you don't--you can't----" - -"Yes, it will, mother. The President,--I just love him,--told me they -needed a man who understood telegraphing and who was of high enough rank -to take charge of the service. As you know, most of the telegraph -operators are privates, and Captain Thorne is an expert. Since he's been -here in Richmond he's helped them in the telegraph office often. -Lieutenant Foray told me so." - -Mrs. Varney rose and moved away. Edith followed her. - -"Now, mamma!" she exclaimed; "I feel you are going to scold me, and you -must not, because it's all fixed and the commission will be sent over -here in a few minutes--just as soon as it can be made out--and when it -comes I am going to give it to him myself." - -Mrs. Varney moved over toward the table and lifted a piece of paper, -evidently a note. - -"He is coming this evening," she said. - -"How do you know?" asked her daughter. - -"Well, for one thing," said her mother, "I can remember very few -evenings when he hasn't been here since he was able to walk out of the -hospital." - -"Mamma!" - -"And for another thing, this note came about half an hour ago." - -"Is it for me?" - -"For me, my dear, else I shouldn't have opened it. You can read it, if -you like." - -"Has it been here all this time?" exclaimed Edith jealously. - -"All this time. You will see what he says. This will be his last call; -he has his orders to leave." - -"Why, it's too ridiculous!" said the girl; "just as if the commission -from the President wouldn't supersede everything else. It puts him at -the head of the Telegraph Service. He will be in command of the -Department. He says it is a good-bye call, does he?" She looked at the -note again and laughed, "All the better, it will be that much more of a -surprise. Now, mamma, don't you breathe a word about it, I want to tell -him myself." - -"But, Edith dear--I am sorry to criticise you--but I don't at all -approve of your going to the President about this. It doesn't seem quite -the proper thing for a young lady to interest herself so far----" - -"But listen, mamma," and as she spoke the light went out of Miss Edith's -face at her mother's grave and somewhat reproving aspect. "I couldn't go -to the War Department people. Mr. Arrelsford is there in one of the -offices, and ever since I--I refused him, you know how he has treated -me! If I had applied for anything there, it would have been refused at -once, and he would have got them to order Captain Thorne away right off. -I know he would--why, that is where his orders came from!" - -"But, my dear----" - -"That is where they came from. Isn't it lucky I got that commission -to-day. There's the bell; I wonder who it can be?" She stopped and -listened while the door opened and Jonas, the butler, entered. "Is it -Captain Thorne?" asked Edith eagerly. - -"No, ma'am." - -"Oh!" - -"It's another offisuh, ma'am. He says he's fum de President an' he's got -to see Miss Edith pussonally." - -Jonas extended a card which, as he spoke, Edith took and glanced at -indifferently. - -"Lieutenant Maxwell," she read. - -"Ask the gentleman in, Jonas," said Mrs. Varney. - -"It's come," whispered Edith to her mother. - -"Do you know who he is?" - -"No--but he's from the President--it must be that commission." - -At this moment old Jonas ushered into the drawing-room a very dashing -young officer, handsome in face, gallant in bearing, and dressed in a -showy and perfectly fitting uniform, which was quite a contrast to the -worn habiliments of the men at the front. Mrs. Varney stepped forward a -little, and Lieutenant Maxwell bowed low before her. - -"Good-evening, ma'am. Have I the honour of addressing Miss Varney?" - -"I am Mrs. Varney, sir." - -"Madam," said the Lieutenant, "I am very much afraid this looks like an -intrusion on my part, but I come from the President, and he desires me -to see Miss Varney personally." - -"Any one from the President could not be otherwise than welcome, sir. -This is my daughter. Edith, let me present Lieutenant Maxwell." - -The young Lieutenant, greatly impressed, bowed profoundly before her, -and taking a large brown envelope from his belt, handed it to her. - -"Miss Varney," he said, "the President directed me to deliver this into -your hands, with his compliments. He is glad to be able to do this, he -says, not only at your request, but because of your father and for the -merits of the gentleman in question." - -"Oh, thank you," cried the girl, taking the envelope. - -"Won't you be seated, Lieutenant Maxwell?" said Mrs. Varney. - -"Yes, do," urged the girl, holding the envelope pressed very tightly to -her side. - -"Nothing would please me so much, ladies," answered the Lieutenant, "but -I must go back to the President's house right away. I'm on duty this -evening. Would you mind writing me off a line or two, Miss Varney, just -to say you have received the communication?" - -"Why, certainly, you want a receipt. I'll go upstairs to my desk; it -won't take a moment. And could I put in how much I thank him for his -kindness?" - -"I am sure he would be more than, pleased," smiled Lieutenant Maxwell, -as Edith left the room and hastened up the stairs. - -"We haven't heard so much cannonading to-day, Lieutenant," said Mrs. -Varney. "Do you know what it means?" - -"I don't think they are quite positive, ma'am, but they can't help -looking for a violent attack to follow." - -"I don't see why it should quiet down before an assault." - -"Well, there is always a calm before a storm," said the Lieutenant. "It -might be some signal, or it might be they are moving their batteries to -open on some special point of attack. They are trying every way to break -through our defences, you know." - -"It's very discouraging. We can't seem to drive them back this time." - -"We're holding them where they are, though," said Maxwell proudly. -"They'll never get in unless they do it by some scurvy trick; that's -where the danger lies. We are always looking out for it, and----" - -At this moment Edith Varney reëntered the room. She had left her hat -upstairs with the official-looking envelope, and had taken time to -glance at a mirror and then to thrust a red rose in her dark hair. The -impressionable young Lieutenant thought she looked prettier than ever. - -"Lieutenant Maxwell," she said, extending a folded paper, "here is your -receipt----" - -The butler's words to some one in the hall interrupted her further -speech. - -"Will you jes' kin'ly step dis way, suh!" she heard Jonas say, and as -Edith turned she found herself face to face with Captain Thorne! - - - - - CHAPTER III - - ORDERS TO CAPTAIN THORNE - - -On the sleeves of Captain Thorne's coat the insignia of a Captain of -Confederate Artillery were displayed; his uniform was worn, soiled, and -ill-fitting, giving honourable evidence of hard service; his face was -pale and thin and showed signs of recent illness, from which he had -scarcely recovered. In every particular he was a marked contrast to -Lieutenant Maxwell. - -"Miss Varney," he said, bowing low. - -"We were expecting you," answered Edith, giving her hand to Thorne. -"Here's Captain Thorne, mamma!" - -Mrs. Varney shook hands with him graciously while her daughter turned -once more to the other man, with the acknowledgment of the order, which -she handed to him. - -"I wasn't so very long writing it, was I, Lieutenant Maxwell?" she -asked. - -"I've never seen a quicker piece of work, Miss Varney," returned that -young man, putting the note in his belt and smiling as he did so. "When -you want a clerkship over at the Government offices, you must surely let -me know." - -"You would better not commit yourself," said Edith jestingly; "I might -take you at your word." - -"Nothing would please me more," was the prompt answer. "All you have got -to do is just apply, and refer to me, of course." - -"Lots of the other girls are doing it," continued Edith half-seriously. -"They have to live. Aren't there a good many where you are?" - -"Well, we don't have so many as they do over at the Treasury. I believe -there are more ladies over there than men. And now I must go." - -"A moment," said Mrs. Varney, coming forward with Thorne. "Do you -gentlemen know each other?" - -Captain Thorne shook his head and stepped forward, looking intently at -the other. - -"Let me have the pleasure of making you acquainted, then. Captain -Thorne--Lieutenant Maxwell." - -Thorne slowly inclined his head. Maxwell also bowed. - -"I have not had the pleasure of meeting Captain Thorne before, although -I have heard of him a great many times," he said courteously. - -"Yes?" answered the other, who seemed to be a man of few words. - -"In fact, Captain, there is a gentleman in one of our offices who seems -mighty anxious to pick a fight with you." - -"Really!" exclaimed Captain Thorne, smiling somewhat sarcastically; -"pick a fight with me! To what office do you refer, sir?" - -"The War Office, sir," said Lieutenant Maxwell, rather annoyed, he could -not exactly say why. - -"Dear, dear!" continued Thorne urbanely; "I didn't suppose there was -anybody in the War Office who wanted to fight!" - -"And why not, sir?" asked Lieutenant Maxwell haughtily, while Edith -barely stifled a laugh, and her mother even smiled. - -"Well, if he wanted to fight, he'd hardly be in an office at a time like -this, would he?" - -Captain Thorne's sarcasm seemed to perturb the youngster, but his good -breeding got the better of his annoyance. - -"I'd better not tell him that, Captain," he said with a great effort at -lightness; "he would certainly insist upon having you out." - -"That would be too bad," said the Captain. "It might interfere with his -office hours and----" - -"He doesn't believe it, Miss Varney," said Maxwell, turning to the -younger woman, "but it is certainly true. I dare say you know the -gentleman----" - -"Please don't, Lieutenant," interrupted Edith quickly. "I would rather -not talk about it, if you please." - -"Of course," said Maxwell, "I didn't know there was anything----" - -"Yes," said Edith. "Let's talk about something else. You know there is -always the weather to fall back on----" - -"I should say so," laughed the Lieutenant, "and mighty bad weather for -us, too." - -"Yes, isn't it?" - -They turned away, talking and laughing somewhat constrainedly, while -Mrs. Varney picked up the note that was still lying on the table. - -"From your note, I suppose you are leaving us immediately, Captain -Thorne. Your orders have come?" - -"Yes, Mrs. Varney," said the Captain. "I am afraid this must be the last -of my pleasant calls." - -"Isn't it rather sudden? Are you quite well? It seems to me they ought -to give you a little more time to recover." - -"I have no doubt that I am, or feel, much better than I look," said the -Captain, "and we have to be ready for anything, you know. I have been -idle too long already." - -"Yes, I suppose so," said Mrs. Varney. "Well, it has been a great -pleasure to have you call upon us. When you are away, we shall greatly -miss your visits." - -"Thank you; I shall never forget what they have been to me." - -"Lieutenant Maxwell is going, mamma," said Edith. - -"So soon! Please excuse me a moment, Captain. I am very sorry you have -to hurry away, Lieutenant; we shall hope for the pleasure of seeing you -again, if your duties permit." - -"I shall certainly avail myself of your invitation, if you will allow -me." He saluted Captain Thorne. "Good-evening, sir." - -Thorne, of course, returned the courteous salute of his junior. - -"Lieutenant Maxwell," he said pleasantly, as Mrs. Varney followed -Lieutenant Maxwell into the hall. - -"Now remember, you are to come some time when duty doesn't call you away -so soon," she said, as he bowed himself out. - -"Trust me not to forget that, Mrs. Varney," said the Lieutenant, as he -disappeared on the porch. - -Captain Thorne and Edith were left alone. The girl stepped over to a -small table on which stood a vase of roses, and, with somewhat nervous -hands, she busied herself arranging them. The young officer watched her -in silence for a little while, the moments tense with emotion. - -"Shall I see Mrs. Varney again?" he began at last. - -"Oh, I suppose so, but not now. I heard her go upstairs to Howard." - -"How is he?" - -"Desperately ill." - -"I am sorry." - -"Yes," said the girl. - -"I have a very little time to stay and----" - -"Oh--not long?" asked Edith. - -"No, I am sorry to say." - -"Well, do you know," she looked at him archly, "I believe you will have -more time than you really think you have. It would be odd if it came out -that way, wouldn't it?" she continued, as she played with the flower in -her hand. - -"Yes, but it won't come out that way," said Thorne, as he stepped closer -to her. - -"You don't know," she faltered, as Thorne drew the flower from her and -took her hand in his. They stood there quiet a moment, and she did not -draw her hand away. "Well, it makes no difference how soon you are going -away; you can sit down in the meantime if you want to." - -"It is hardly worth while," he said; "my time is so short." - -"You would better," interrupted the girl; "I have a great many things to -say to you." - -"Have you?" he asked, sitting down on the little sofa by her side in -compliance with her invitation. - -"Yes." - -"But I have only one thing to say to you--Miss Varney and--that -is"--Thorne took her other hand in both of his--"good-bye." - -Very different words had trembled on his lips, as he knew and as the -girl knew. - -"But I don't really think you will have to say that, Captain Thorne," -said Edith slowly. - -"I know I will." - -"Then," said Edith more softly, "it will be because you want to say it." - -"No," said Thorne, resolutely and of his own motion releasing her hands, -which she had allowed him to hold without remonstrance; "it will be -because I must." - -He rose to his feet and took up his hat from the table as if, the thing -being settled, he had only to go. But the girl observed with secret joy -that he made no other effort at departure. - -"Oh, you think you must, do you, Captain Thorne?" said Edith, looking up -at him mischievously. "You are a very wise person, but you don't know -all that I know." - -"I think that is more than likely, Miss Varney, but won't you tell me -some of the things that you know that I don't, so that I can approach -your knowledge in that respect?" - -"I wouldn't mind telling you one thing, and that is that it is very -wrong for you to think of leaving Richmond now." - -"Oh, but you don't know." - -"Yes, I do." - -"Well, what do you know?" asked Thorne curiously. - -"Whatever you were going to say. Most likely it was that there's -something or other I don't know about, but I do know this. You were sent -here to recover, and you haven't nearly had enough time for it yet." - -"I do look as if a high wind would blow me away, don't I?" he laughed. - -"No matter how you look, you ought not to go. You are just making fun of -it, as you always do of everything. No matter, you can have all the fun -you like, but the whole thing is settled; you are not going away at all, -you are going to stay here," she concluded with most decided but winning -emphasis. - -"Oh, I'm not going? Well, that is quite a change for me," said Thorne -composedly. He laid his hat back on the table and came closer to Edith. -"Perhaps you wouldn't mind telling me what I am going to do." - -"I don't mind at all, and it is this. You see, I have been to see--I am -almost afraid to tell you." - -"Don't tell me," said the man with sudden seriousness, laying aside all -his pleasantry, "because it can't be true. I have my orders, and I am -leaving to-night." - -"Where--to Petersburg--to the front?" - -"We can't always tell where orders will take us," he said evasively, -again sitting down beside her on the lounge. - -He could scarcely tear himself away from her, from the delicious yet -painful emotion aroused by her presence. He ought to have gone long -since, yet he was with her, as he supposed, for the last time. Surely he -might indulge himself a little. He loved her so desperately, so -hopelessly. - -"But listen," said the girl; "supposing there were other orders, orders -from a higher authority, appointing you to duty here?" - -"It would not make any difference." - -"You don't mean you would go in spite of them!" cried the girl in sudden -alarm. - -Thorne looked at her gravely and nodded his head. - -"But if it were proved that your first orders were a mistake----" - -She stretched out her hand toward him, which Thorne clasped closely -again. - -"But it wasn't a mistake, and I must go," he said slowly, rising to his -feet once more, but still holding her hand. - -"Is it something dangerous?" asked the girl apprehensively. - -"Oh, well, enough to make it interesting." - -But Edith did not respond to his well simulated humour. She drew her -hand away, and Thorne fancied with a leap of his heart that she did it -with reluctance. She began softly: - -"Don't be angry with me if I ask you again about your orders. I must -know." - -"But why?" asked Thorne curiously. - -"No matter, tell me." - -"I can't do that. I wish I could," he answered with a slight sigh. - -"You needn't," said the girl triumphantly; "I do know." - -The Captain started and, in spite of his control, a look of dismay and -apprehension flitted across his face as the girl went on: - -"They're sending you on some mission where death is almost certain. They -will sacrifice your life, because they know you are fearless and will do -anything. There is a chance for you to stay here, and be just as much -use, and I am going to ask you to take it. It isn't your life -alone--there are--others to think of and--that's why I ask you. It may -not sound well, perhaps I ought not--you won't understand, but you----" - -As she spoke she rose to her feet, confronting him, while she -impulsively thrust out her hand toward him again. Once more he took that -beloved hand in his own, holding it close against him. Burning avowals -sprang to his lips, and the colour flamed into her face as she stood -motionless and expectant, looking at him. She had gone as far as a -modest woman might. Now the initiative was his. She could only wait. - -"No," said the man at last, by the exercise of the most iron -self-control and repression, "you shall not have this against me, too." - -Edith drew closer to him, leaving her hand in his as she placed her -other on his shoulder. She thought she knew what he would have said. And -love gave her courage. The frankness of war was in the air. If this man -left her now, she might never see him again. She was a woman, but she -could not let him go without an effort. - -"Against you! What against you? What do you mean?" she asked softly. - -The witchery of the hour was upon him, too, and the sweetness of her -presence. He knew he had but to speak to receive his answer, to summon -the fortress and receive the surrender. Her eyes dropped before his -passionately searching look, her colour came and went, her bosom rose -and fell. She thought he must certainly hear the wild beating of her -heart. He pressed her hands closely to his breast for a moment, but -quickly pulled himself together again. - -"I must go," he said hoarsely; "my business is--elsewhere. I ought never -to have seen you or spoken to you, but I had to come to this house and -you were here, and how could I help it? Oh--I couldn't for my -whole--it's only you in this----" He stopped and thrust her hands away -from him blindly and turned away. As there was a God above him he would -not do it. "Your mother--I would like to say good-bye to her." - -"No, you are not going," cried the girl desperately, playing her last -card. "Listen, they need you in Richmond: the President told me so -himself--your orders are to stay here. You are to be given a special -commission on the War Department Telegraph Service, and you----" - -"No, no, I won't take it--I can't take it, Miss Varney." - -"Can't you do that much for--me?" said the girl with winning sweetness, -and again she put out her hands to him. - -"It is for you that I will do nothing of the kind," he answered quickly; -"if you ever think of me again after--well, when I am gone, remember -that I refused." - -"But you can't refuse; it is the President's desire, it is his order, -you have got to obey. Wait a moment, I left it upstairs. I will fetch it -for you and you will see." - -She turned toward the door. - -"No," said Thorne, "don't get it, I won't look at it." - -"But you must see what it is. It puts you at the head of everything. You -have entire control. When you see it I know you will accept it. Please -wait." - -"No, Miss Varney, I can't----" - -"Oh, yes, you can," cried Edith, who would hear no denial as she ran -swiftly toward the door. - - - - - CHAPTER IV - - MISS MITFORD'S INTERVENTION - - -The Captain stared after her departing figure; he listened to her -footfalls on the stair, and then came to an instant resolution. He would -take advantage of her opportune withdrawal. He turned back to the table, -seized his hat, and started for the door, only to come face to face with -another charming young woman, who stood breathless before him to his -great and ill-concealed annoyance. Yet the newcomer was pretty enough -and young enough and sweet enough to give any man pause for the sheer -pleasure of looking at her, to say nothing of speaking to her. - -The resources of an ancient wardrobe, that looked as though it had -belonged to her great-grandmother, had been called upon for a costume -which was quaint and old-fashioned and altogether lovely. She was -evidently much younger than Edith Varney, perhaps just sixteen, -Wilfred's age. With outstretched arms she barred the door completely, -and Thorne, of course, came to an abrupt stop. - -"Oh, good-evening," she panted, as soon as she found speech; she had run -without stopping from her house across the street. - -"Good-evening, Miss Mitford," he answered, stepping to one side to let -her pass, but through calculation or chance she kept her position at the -door. - -"How lucky this is!" she continued. "You are the very person I wanted to -see. Let's sit down and then I'll tell you all about it. Goodness me, I -am all out of breath just running over from our house." - -Thorne did not accept her invitation, but stood looking at her. An idea -came to him. - -"Miss Mitford," he said at last, stepping toward her, "will you do -something for me?" - -"Of course I will." - -"Thank you very much, indeed. Just tell Miss Varney when she comes -down--just say good-night for me and tell her that I've gone." - -"I wouldn't do such a thing for the wide, wide world," returned Caroline -Mitford in pretended astonishment. - -"Why not?" - -"It would be a wicked, dreadful story, because you wouldn't be gone." - -"I am sorry you look at it that way," said Thorne, "because I am going. -Good-night, Miss Mitford." - -But before he could leave the room, the girl, who was as light on her -feet as a fairy, caught him by the arm. - -"No--you don't seem to understand. I've got something to say to you." - -"Yes, I know," said Thorne; "but some other time." - -"No, now." - -Of course, he could have freed himself by the use of a little force, but -such a thing was not to be thought of. Everything conspired to keep him -when his duty called him away, he thought quickly. - -"There isn't any other time," said Caroline, "it is to-night. We are -going to have a Starvation party." - -"Good Heavens!" exclaimed Thorne; "another!" - -"Yes, we are." - -"I can't see how it concerns me." - -"It is going to be over at our house, and we expect you in half an -hour." - -"I shouldn't think you would want to play at this time." - -"We are not going to play. We are going to make bandages and sandbags -and----" - -"You won't need me." - -"Yes, you can tell us the best way to----" - -"Thank you, Miss Mitford, I can't come. I have my orders and I am -leaving to-night." - -"Now, that won't do at all," said the girl, pouting. "You went to Mamie -Jones' party; I don't see why you should treat me like this." - -"Mamie Jones!" said Thorne. "Why, that was last Thursday, and now I have -got orders, I tell you, and----" - -But Caroline was not to be put off. - -"Now, there's no use talking about it," she said vehemently. - -"Yes, I see that." - -"Didn't you promise to obey orders when I gave them? Well, these are -orders." - -"Another set," laughed Thorne. - -"I don't know anything about any others. These are mine." - -"Well, but this time----" - -"This time is just the same as all the other times, only worse; besides -I told her you would be there." - -"What's that?" - -"I say she expects you, that's all." - -"Who expects me?" - -"Why, Edith, of course; who do you suppose I was talking about all this -time?" - -"Oh, she expects me to----" - -"Why, of course, she does. You are to take her over. You needn't stay if -you don't want to. Now I will go and tell her you are waiting." - -"Oh, very well," said Thorne, smiling; "if she expects me to take her -over I will do so, of course, but I can't stay a moment." - -"Well," said Caroline, "I thought you would come to your senses some -time or another. See here, Mr. Captain, was she 'most ready?" - -"Well, how do I know." - -"What dress did she have on?" - -"Dress?" - -"Oh, you men! Why, she's only got two." - -"Yes; well, very likely, this was one of them, Miss Mitford." - -"No matter, I am going upstairs to see, anyway. Captain Thorne, you can -wait out there on the veranda or, perhaps, it would be pleasanter if you -were to smoke a cigar out in the summerhouse at the side of the garden. -It is lovely there in the moonlight, and----" - -"I know, but if I wait right here----" - -"Those are my orders. It's cooler outside, you know, anyway, and----" - -"Pardon me, Miss Mitford, orders never have to be explained, you know," -interrupted the Captain, smiling at the charming girl. - -"That's right; I take back the explanation," she said, as Thorne stepped -toward the window; "and, Captain," cried the girl. - -"Yes?" - -"Be sure and smoke." - -Thorne laughed, as he lighted his cigar and stepped out onto the porch, -and thence into the darkness of the garden path. - -"Oh," said Caroline to herself, "he is splendid. If Wilfred were only -like that!" she pouted. "But then--our engagement's broken off anyway, -so what's the difference. If he were like that--I'd---- No!--I don't -think I'd----" - -Her soliloquy was broken by the entrance of Mrs. Varney, who came slowly -down the room. - -"Why, Caroline dear! What are you talking about, all to yourself?" - -"Oh--just--I was just saying, you know--that--why, I don't know what I -was---- Do you think it is going to rain?" she returned in great -confusion. - -"Dear me, child; I haven't thought about it. Why, what have you got on? -Is that a new dress, and in Richmond?" - -"A new dress? Well, I should think so. These are my great-grandmother's -mother's wedding clothes. Aren't they lovely? Just in the nick of time, -too. I was on my very last rags, or, rather, they were on me, and I -didn't know what to do. Mother gave me a key and told me to open an old -horsehair trunk in the attic, and these were in it." She seized the -corners of her dress and pirouetted a step or two forward to show it -off, and then dropped the older woman an elaborate, old-fashioned -courtesy. "I ran over to show them to Edith," she resumed. "Where is -she? I want her to come over to my house." - -"Upstairs, I think. I am afraid she can't come. I have just come from -her room," Mrs. Varney continued as Caroline started to interrupt, "and -she means to stay here." - -"I will see about that," said Caroline, running out of the room. - -Mrs. Varney turned and sat down at her desk to write a letter which -evidently, from her sighs, was not an easy task. In a short time the -girl was back again. Mrs. Varney looked up from writing and smiled at -her. - -"You see it was no use, Caroline," she began. - -"No use," laughed the girl; "well, you will see. I didn't try to -persuade her or argue with her. I just told her that Captain Thorne was -waiting for her in the summerhouse. Yes," she continued, as Mrs. Varney -looked her astonishment; "he is still here, and he said he would take -her over. You just watch which dress she has on when she comes down. Now -I will go out there and tell him she'll be down in a minute. I have more -trouble getting people fixed so that they can come to my party than it -would take to run a blockade into Savannah every fifteen minutes." - -Mrs. Varney looked at her departing figure pleasantly for a moment, and -then, with a deep sigh, resumed her writing, but she evidently was not -to conclude her letter without further interruption, for she had -scarcely begun again when Wilfred came into the room with a bundle very -loosely done up in heavy brown paper. As his mother glanced toward him -he made a violent effort to conceal it under his coat. - -"What have you got there, Wilfred?" she asked incuriously. - -"That? Oh, nothing; it is only--say, mother, have you written that -letter yet?" - -"No, my dear, I have been too busy. I have been trying to write it, -though, since I came down, but I have had one interruption after -another. I think I will go into your father's office and do it there." -She gathered up her paper and turned to leave the room. "It is a hard -letter for me to write, you know," she added as she went away. - -Wilfred, evidently much relieved at his mother's departure, took the -package from under his coat, put it on the table, and began to undo it. -He took from it a pair of very soiled, dilapidated, grey uniform -trousers. He had just lifted them up when he heard Caroline's step on -the porch, and the next moment she came into the room through the long -French window. Wilfred stood petrified with astonishment at the sudden -and unexpected appearance of his young beloved, but soon recovered -himself and began rolling the package together again, hastily and -awkwardly, while Caroline watched him from the window. She coldly -scrutinised his confusion while he made his ungainly roll, and, as he -moved toward the door, she broke the silence. - -"Ah, good-evening, Mr. Varney," she said coolly. - -"Good-evening," he said, his voice as cold as her own. - -They both of them had started for the hall door and in another second -they would have met. - -"Excuse me," said Caroline, "I'm in a hurry." - -"That's plain enough. Another party, I suppose, and dancing." - -"What of it? What's the matter with dancing, I'd like to know." - -"Nothing is the matter with dancing if you want to, but I must say that -it is a pretty way of going on, with the cannon roaring not six miles -away." - -"Well, what do you want us to do? Cry about it! I have cried my eyes out -already; that would do a heap of good now, wouldn't it?" - -"Oh, I haven't time to talk about such petty details. I have some -important matters to attend to," he returned loftily. - -"It was you that started it," said the girl. - -Wilfred turned suddenly, his manner at once losing its badly assumed -lightness. - -"Oh, you needn't try to fool me," he reproached her; "I know well enough -how you have been carrying on since our engagement was broken off. Half -a dozen officers proposing to you--a dozen for all I know." - -"What difference does it make?" she retorted pertly. "I haven't got to -marry them all, have I?" - -"Well, it isn't very nice to go on like that," said Wilfred with an air -into which he in vain sought to infuse a detached, judicial, and -indifferent appearance. "Proposals by the wholesale!" - -"Goodness me!" exclaimed Caroline, "what's the use of talking about it -to me. They're the ones that propose, I don't. How can I help it?" - -"Oh," said Wilfred loftily, "you can help it all right. You helped it -with me." - -"Well," she answered, with a queer look at him, "that was different." - -"And ever since you threw me over----" he began. - -"I didn't throw you over, you just went over," she interrupted. - -"I went over because you walked off with Major Sillsby that night we -were at Drury's Bluff," said the boy, "and you encouraged him to -propose. You admit it," he said, as the girl nodded her head. - -"Of course I did. I didn't want him hanging around forever, did I? -That's the only way to finish them off. What do you want me to -do--string a placard around my neck, saying, 'No proposals received -here. Apply at the office'? Would that make you feel any better? Well," -she continued, as the boy shrugged his shoulders, "if it doesn't make -any difference to you what I do, it doesn't even make as much as that to -me." - -"Oh, it doesn't? I think it does, though. You looked as if you enjoyed -it pretty well while the Third Virginia was in the city." - -"I should think I did," said Caroline ecstatically. "I just love every -one of them. They are going to fight for us and die for us, and I love -them." - -"Why don't you accept one of them before he dies, then, and have done -with it? I suppose it will be one of those smart young fellows with a -cavalry uniform." - -"It will be some kind of a uniform, I can tell you that. It won't be any -one that stays in Richmond." - -"Now I see what it was," said Wilfred, looking at her gloomily. "I had -to stay in Richmond, and----" - -The boy choked up and would not finish. - -"Well," said Caroline, "that made a heap of difference. Why, I was the -only girl on Franklin Street that didn't have a--some one she was -engaged to--at the front. Just think what it was to be out of it like -that! You have no idea how I suffered; besides, it is our duty to help -all we can. There aren't many things a girl can do, but Colonel -Woolbridge--he's one of Morgan's new men, you know--said that the boys -fight twice as well when they have a--sweetheart at home. I couldn't -waste an engagement on----" - -"And is that why you let them all propose to you?" rejoined the youth -bitterly. - -"Certainly; it didn't hurt me, and it pleased them. Most of 'em will -never come back to try it again, and it is our duty to help all we can." - -"And you really want to help all you can, do you?" asked Wilfred -desperately. "Well, if I were to join the army would you help me--that -way?" - -This was a direct question. It was the _argumentum ad feminam_ with a -vengeance. Caroline hesitated. A swift blush overspread her cheek, but -she was game to the core. - -"Why, of course I would, if there was anything I--could do," she -answered. - -"Well, there is something you can do." He unrolled his package and -seized the trousers by the waistband and dangled them before her eyes. -"Cut those off," he said; "they are twice too long. All you have to do -is to cut them here and sew up the ends, so that they don't ravel out." - -Caroline stared at him in great bewilderment. She had expected something -quite different. - -"Why, they are uniform trousers," she said finally. "You are going to -join the army?" She clapped her hands gleefully. "Give them to me." - -"Hush! don't talk so loud, for Heaven's sake," said Wilfred. "I've got a -jacket here, too." He drew out of the parcel a small army jacket, a -private soldier's coat. "It's nearly a fit. It came from the hospital. -Johnny Seldon wore it, but he won't want it any more, you know, and he -was just about my size, only his legs were longer. Well," he continued, -as the girl continued to look at him strangely, "I thought you said you -wanted to help me." - -"I certainly do." - -"What are you waiting for, then?" asked Wilfred. - -The girl took the trousers and dropped on her knees before him. - -"Stand still," she said, as she measured the trousers from the waistband -to the floor. - -"This is about the place, isn't it?" - -"Yes, just there." - -"Wait," she continued, "until I mark it with a pin." - -Wilfred stood quietly until the proper length had been ascertained, and -then he assisted Caroline to her feet. - -"Do you see any scissors about?" she asked in a businesslike way. - -"I don't believe there are any in the drawing-room, but I can get some -from the women sewing over there. Wait a moment." - -"No, don't," said the girl; "they would want to know what you wanted -with them, and then you would have to tell them." - -"Yes," said the boy; "and I want to keep this a secret between us." - -"When are you going to wear them?" - -"As soon as you get them ready." - -"But your mother----" - -"She knows it. She is going to write to father to-night. She said she -would send it by a special messenger, so we ought to get an answer by -to-morrow." - -"But if he says no?" - -"I am going anyway." - -"Oh, Wilfred, I am so glad. Why, it makes another thing of it," cried -the girl. "When I said that about staying in Richmond, I didn't know---- -Oh, I do want to help all I can." - -"You do? Well, then, for Heaven's sake, be quick about it and cut off -those trousers. So long as I get them in the morning," said Wilfred, "I -guess it will be in plenty of time." - -"When did you say your mother was going to write?" - -"To-night." - -"Of course, she doesn't want you to go, and she'll tell your father not -to let you. Yes," she continued sagely, as Wilfred looked up, -horror-stricken at the idea; "that's the way mothers always do." - -"What can I do, then?" he asked her. - -"Why don't you write to him yourself, and then you can tell him just -what you like." - -"That's a fine idea. I'll tell him that I can't stay here, and that I'm -going to enlist whether he says so or not. That'll make him say yes, -won't it?" - -"Why, of course; there'll be nothing else for him to say." - -"Say, you are a pretty good girl," said Wilfred, catching her hand -impulsively. "I'll go upstairs and write it now. You finish these as -soon as you can. You can ask those women for some scissors, and when -they are ready leave them in this closet, but don't let any one see you -doing it, whatever happens." - -"No, I won't," said Caroline, as Wilfred hurried off. - -She went over to the room where the women were sewing, and borrowed a -pair of scissors; then she came back and started to cut off the trousers -where they were marked. The cloth was old and worn, but it was, -nevertheless, stiff and hard, and her scissors were dull. Men spent -their time in sharpening other things than women's tools during those -days in Richmond, and her slender fingers made hard work of the -amputations. Beside, she was prone to stop and think and dream of her -soldier boy while engaged in this congenial work. She had not finished -the alteration, therefore, when she heard a step in the hall. She caught -up the trousers, striving to conceal them, entirely forgetful of the -jacket which lay on the table. - -"Oh," said Mrs. Varney, as she came into the room; "you haven't gone -yet?" - -"No," faltered the girl; "we don't assemble for a little while, and----" - -"Don't assemble?" - -"I mean for the party. It doesn't begin for half an hour yet, and----" - -"Oh; then you have plenty of time." - -"Yes," said Caroline. "But I will have to go now, sure enough." She -turned away and, as she did so, her scissors fell clattering to the -floor. - -"You dropped your scissors, my dear," said Mrs. Varney. - -"I thought I heard something fall," she faltered in growing confusion. - -She came back for her scissors, and, in her agitation and nervousness, -she dropped one of the pieces of trouser leg on the floor. - -"What are you making, Caroline?" asked Mrs. Varney, looking curiously at -the little huddled-up soiled piece of grey on the carpet, while Caroline -made a desperate grab at it. - -"Oh, just altering an old--dress, Mrs. Varney. That's all." - -Mrs. Varney looked at her through her glasses. As she did so, Caroline's -agitated movement caused the other trouser leg, with its half-severed -end hanging from it, to dangle over her arm. - -"And what is that?" asked Mrs. Varney. - -"Oh--that's--er--one of the sleeves," answered Caroline desperately, -hurrying out in great confusion. - -Mrs. Varney laughed softly to herself. As she did so, her glance fell -upon the little heap of grey on the table. She picked it up and opened -it. It was a grey jacket, a soldier's jacket. It looked as if it might -be about Wilfred's size. There was a bullet hole in the breast, and -there was a dull brown stain around the opening. Mrs. Varney kissed the -worn coat. She saw it all now. - -"For Wilfred," she whispered. "He has probably got it from some dead -soldier at the hospital, and Caroline's dress that she was altering----" - -She clasped the jacket tightly to her breast, looked up, and smiled and -prayed through her tears. - - - - - CHAPTER V - - THE UNFAITHFUL SERVANT - - -But Mrs. Varney was not allowed to indulge in either her bitter -retrospect or her dread anticipations very long. Her reverie was -interrupted by the subdued trampling of heavy feet upon the floor of the -back porch. The long drawing-room extended across the house, and had -porches at front and back, to which access was had through long French -windows. The sound was so sudden and so unexpected that she dropped the -jacket on the couch and turned to the window. The sound of low, hushed -voices came to her, and the next moment a tall, fine-looking young man -of rather distinguished appearance entered the room. He was not in -uniform, but wore the customary full-skirted frock coat of the period, -and carried his big black hat in his hand. For the rest, he was a very -keen, sharp-eyed man, whose movements were quick and stealthy, and whose -quick, comprehensive glance seemed to take in not only Mrs. Varney, but -everything in the room. Through the windows and the far door soldiers -could be seen dimly. Mrs. Varney was very indignant at the entrance of -this newcomer in this unceremonious manner. - -"Mr. Arrelsford!" she exclaimed haughtily. - -In two or three quick steps Mr. Benton Arrelsford of the Confederate -Secret Service was by her side. Although she was alone, through habit -and excessive caution he lowered his voice when he spoke to her. - -"Your pardon, Mrs. Varney," he said, with just a shade too much of the -peremptory for perfect breeding, "I was compelled to enter without -ceremony. You will understand when I tell you why." - -"And those men----" said Mrs. Varney, pointing to the back windows and -the far door. "What have we done that we should be----" - -"They are on guard." - -"On guard!" exclaimed the woman, greatly surprised and equally -resentful. - -"Yes, ma'am; and I am very much afraid we shall be compelled to put you -to a little inconvenience; temporary, I assure you, but necessary." He -glanced about cautiously and pointed to the door across the hall. "Is -there anybody in that room, Mrs. Varney?" - -"Yes, a number of ladies sewing for the hospital; they expect to stay -all night." - -"Very good," said Arrelsford. "Will you kindly come a little farther -away? I would not have them overhear by any possibility." - -There was no possibility of any one overhearing their conversation, but -if Mr. Arrelsford ever erred it was not through lack of caution. Still -more astonished, Mrs. Varney followed him. They stopped by the -fireplace. - -"One of your servants has got himself into trouble, Mrs. Varney, and -we're compelled to have him watched," he began. - -"Watched by a squad of soldiers?" - -"It is well not to neglect any precaution, ma'am." - -"And what kind of trouble, pray?" asked the woman. - -"Very serious, I am sorry to say. At least that is the way it looks now. -You've got an old white-haired butler here----" - -"You mean Jonas?" - -"I believe that's his name," said Arrelsford. - -"And you suspect him of something?" - -Mr. Arrelsford lowered his voice still further and assumed an air of -great importance. - -"We don't merely suspect him; we know what he has done." - -"And what has he done, sir?" - -"He has been down to Libby Prison under pretence of selling things to -the Yankees we've got in there, and he now has on his person a written -communication from one of them which he intends to deliver to some -Yankee spy or agent, here in Richmond." - -Mrs. Varney gasped in astonishment at this tremendous charge, which was -made in Arrelsford's most impressive manner. - -"I don't believe it," she said at last. "He has been in the family for -years; he wouldn't dare." - -Arrelsford shook his head. - -"I am afraid it is true," he said. - -"Very well," said Mrs. Varney decidedly, apparently not at all -convinced. "I will send for the man. Let us see----" - -She reached out her hand to the bell-rope hanging from the wall, but Mr -Arrelsford caught her arm, evidently to her great repugnance. - -"No, no!" he said quickly, "not yet. We have got to get that paper, and -if he's alarmed he will destroy it, and we must have it. It will give us -the clue to one of their cursed plots. They have been right close on -this town for months, trying to break down our defences and get in on -us. This is some rascally game they are at to weaken us from the inside. -Two weeks ago we got word from our secret agents that we keep over there -in the Yankee lines, telling us that two brothers, Lewis and Henry -Dumont----" - -"The Dumonts of West Virginia?" interrupted Mrs. Varney, who was now -keenly attentive to all that was said. - -"The very same." - -"Why, their father is a General in the Yankee Army." - -"Yes; and they are in the Federal Secret Service, and they are the -boldest, most desperately determined men in the whole Yankee Army. -They've already done us more harm than an army corps." - -"Yes?" - -"They have volunteered to do some desperate piece of work here in -Richmond, we have learned. We have close descriptions of both these men, -but we have never been able to get our hands on either of them until -last night." - -"Have you captured them?" - -"We've got one of them, and it won't take long to get the other," said -Arrelsford, in a fierce, truculent whisper. - -"The one you caught, was he here in Richmond?" asked Mrs. Varney, -greatly affected by the other's overwhelming emotion. - -"No, he was brought in last night with a lot of men we captured in a -little sortie." - -"Taken prisoner?" - -"Yes, but without resistance." - -"I don't understand." - -"He let himself be taken. That's one of their tricks for getting into -our lines when they want to bring a message or give some signal." - -"You mean that they deliberately allow themselves to be taken to Libby -Prison?" - -"Yes, damn them!" said Arrelsford harshly. "I beg your pardon, ma'am, -but----" - -Mrs. Varney waved her hand as if Mr. Arrelsford's oaths, like his -presence, were nothing to her. - -"We were on the lookout for this man, and we spotted him pretty quickly. -I gave orders not to search him, and not to have his clothes taken away -from him, but to put him in with the others and keep the closest watch -on him that was ever kept on a man. We knew from his coming in that his -brother must be here in the city, and he'd send a message to him the -first chance he got." - -"But Jonas, how could he----" - -"Easily enough. He comes down to the prison to sell things to the -prisoners with other negroes. We let him pass in, watching him as we -watch them all. He fools around a while, until he gets a chance to brush -against this man Dumont. My men are keeping that fellow under close -observation, and they saw a piece of paper pass between them. By my -orders they gave no sign. We want to catch the man to whom he is to -deliver the paper. He has the paper on him now." - -"I will never believe it." - -"It is true, and that is the reason for these men on the back porch that -you see. I have put others at every window at the back of the house. He -can't get away; he will have to give it up." - -"And the man he gives it to will be the man you want?" said Mrs. Varney. - -"Yes; but I can't wait long. If that nigger sees my men or hears a -sound, he will destroy it before we can jump in on him. I want the man, -but I want the paper, too. Excuse me." He stepped to the back window. -"Corporal!" he said softly. The long porch window was open on account of -the balmy air of the night, and a soldier, tattered and dusty, instantly -appeared and saluted. "How are things now?" asked Arrelsford. - -"All quiet now, sir." - -"Very good," said Arrelsford. "I was afraid he would get away. We've got -to get the paper. If we have the paper, perhaps we can get the man. It -is the key to the game they are trying to play against us, and without -it the man is helpless." - -"No, no," urged Mrs. Varney. "The man he is going to give it to, get -him." - -"Yes, yes, of course," assented Arrelsford; "but that paper might give -us a clue. If not, I'll make the nigger tell. Damn him, I'll shoot it -out of him. How quickly can you get at him from that door, Corporal?" - -"In no time at all, sir. It's through a hallway and across the -dining-room. He is in the pantry." - -"Well," said Arrelsford, "take two men, and----" - -"Wait," said Mrs. Varney; "I still doubt your story, but I am glad to -help. Why don't you keep your men out of sight and let me send for him -here, and then----" - -Arrelsford thought a moment. - -"That may be the better plan," he admitted. "Get him in here and, while -you are talking to him, they can seize him from behind. He won't be able -to do a thing. Do you hear, Corporal?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"Keep your men out of sight; get them back there in the hall, and while -we're making him talk, send a man down each side and pin him. Hold him -stiff. He mustn't destroy any paper he's got." - -The Corporal raised his hand in salute and left the room. The men -disappeared from the windows, and the back porch looked as empty as -before. The whole discussion and the movements of the men had been -practically noiseless. - -"Now, Mr. Arrelsford, are you ready?" - -"Yes, ma'am." - -Mrs. Varney rang the bell on the instant. The two watched each other -intently, and in a moment old Martha appeared at the door. - -"Did you-all ring, ma'am?" - -"Yes," said Mrs. Varney; "I want some one to send to the hospital." - -"Luthah is out heah, ma'am." - -"Luther? He's too small, I don't want a boy." - -"Well, den, Jonas----" - -"Yes, Jonas will do; tell him to come in here immediately." - -"Yas'm." - -"Perhaps you had better sit down, Mrs. Varney," said Arrelsford; "and if -you will permit me, I will stand back by the front window yonder." - -"That will be just as well," said Mrs. Varney, seating herself near the -table, while Arrelsford, making no effort at concealment, stepped over -to the window. Old Jonas entered the door just as they had placed -themselves. He bowed low before Mrs. Varney, entirely unsuspicious of -anything out of the ordinary until his eye fell on the tall form of -Arrelsford. He glanced furtively at the man for a moment, stiffened -imperceptibly, but, as there was nothing else to do, came on. - -"Jonas," said Mrs. Varney, her voice low and level in spite of her -agitation. - -"Yes'm." - -"Have you any idea why I sent for you?" - -"Ah heahd you was gwine send me to de hossiple, ma'am." - -"Oh, then Martha told you," said Mrs. Varney. - -While the little dialogue was taking place, Mr. Arrelsford had made a -signal, and the Corporal and two men had entered the room silently, and -now swiftly advanced to the side of the still unobserving old negro. - -"She didn't ezzactly say whut you----" he began. - -The next instant the two men fell upon him. He might have made some -struggle, although it would have been useless. The windows were -instantly filled with men, and an order would have called them into the -room. He was an old man, and the two soldiers that seized him were -young. He was too surprised to fight, and stood as helpless as a lamb -about to be slaughtered, his face fairly grey with sudden terror. The -Corporal flung open the butler's faded livery coat, and for the moment -Jonas, menaced now by a search, and knowing what the result would be, -struggled furiously, but the men soon mastered him, and the Corporal, -continuing his search, presently drew from an inside pocket a small -folded paper. - -"Jonas! Jonas!" said Mrs. Varney, in bitter disappointment; "how could -you?" - -"I told you so," said Mr. Arrelsford truthfully, triumphantly, and most -aggravatingly under the circumstances, taking the folded paper. -"Corporal," he added, "while I read this, see if he has got anything -more." - -A further search, however, revealed nothing. Arrelsford had scarcely -completed the reading of the brief note when the Corporal reported: - -"That is all he has, sir." - -Arrelsford nodded. The men had released Jonas, but stood by his side, -and the Secret Service Agent now approached him. - -"Who was this for?" he asked sharply and tensely. - -The negro stared at him stolidly and silently, his face ashen with -fright. - -"Look here," continued the other, "if you don't tell me it is going to -make it pretty bad for you." - -The words apparently made no further impression upon the servant. -Arrelsford tried another tack. He turned to Mrs. Varney, who was -completely dismayed at this breach of trust by one who had been attached -to the family fortunes for so many years. - -"I am right sorry, ma'am," he said very distinctly, "but it looks like -we have got to shoot him." - -"Oh!" cried Mrs. Varney at that. "Jonas, speak!" - -But even to that appeal he remained silent. Arrelsford waited a moment -and then: - -"Corporal," he said; "take him outside and get it out of him. String him -up until he talks. But don't let him yell or give any alarm; gag him -until he's ready to tell. You understand?" - -The Corporal nodded and turned toward the hall door. - -"Not that way," said Arrelsford; "take him to the back of the house and -keep him quiet, whatever you do. Nobody must know about this, not a -soul." - -"Very good, sir," said the Corporal, saluting. He gave an order to the -men, and they marched Jonas off, swiftly and silently. Nothing that had -been said or done had disturbed the women across the hall. Mrs. Varney -glanced up at the unfolded piece of paper in Mr. Arrelsford's hand. He -was smiling triumphantly. - -"Was there anything in that?" she asked. - -"Yes, there was. We know the trick they meant to play." - -"But not the man who was to play it?" - -"I didn't say that, ma'am." - -"Does it give you a clue to it?" - -"It does." - -"Will it answer?" - -"It will." - -"Then you know----" - -"As plain as if we had his name." - -"Thank God for that," exclaimed the woman. "May I see it?" - -Arrelsford hesitated. - -"I see no reason why you should not." - -He extended his hand toward her, and she glanced at the paper. - -"_Attack to-night. Plan 3. Use telegraph!_" she read. She looked up. - -"What does it mean?" she asked tremulously. - -"They are to attack to-night, and the place where they are to strike is -indicated by Plan 3." - -"Plan 3?" questioned the woman. - -"Yes; the man this is sent to will know what is meant by that. It has -been arranged beforehand, and----" - -"But the last words," said Mrs. Varney. "Use telegraph?" - -"That is plain, too. He is to use our War Department Telegraph and send -some false order to weaken that position, the one they indicate by 'Plan -3,' so that when they assault it, they will find it feebly defended or -not at all, and break through and come down on the city and swamp us." - -"But," exclaimed Mrs. Varney in deepest indignation and excitement, "the -man who was to do this? Who is he? There is nothing about him that I can -see." - -"But I can see something." - -"What? Where?" - -"In the words, 'Use Telegraph.' We know every man on the telegraph -service, and every one of them is true. There is some one who will try -to get into that service if the game is carried out, and----" - -"Then he will be the man," said Mrs. Varney. - -"Yes; there aren't so many men in Richmond that can do that. It isn't -every man that's expert enough----Mrs. Varney, Jonas brought this paper -to your house, and----" - -"To my house?" exclaimed the woman in great astonishment, and then she -stopped, appalled by a sudden thought which came to her. - -"At the same time," said Arrelsford, "your daughter has been trying to -get an appointment for some one on the telegraph service. Perhaps she -could give us some idea, and----" - -Mrs. Varney rose and stood as if rooted to the spot. - -"You mean----" - -"Captain Thorne," said Arrelsford impressively. - - - - - CHAPTER VI - - THE CONFIDENCE OF EDITH VARNEY - - -Mrs. Varney had, of course, divined toward whom Arrelsford's suspicion -pointed. She had been entirely certain before he had mentioned the name -that the alleged spy or traitor could be none other than her daughter's -friend; indeed, it would not be stretching the truth to say that Thorne -was her friend as well as her daughter's, and her keen mother's wit was -not without suspicion that if he were left to himself, or if he were -permitted to follow his own inclinations, the relation between himself -and the two women might have been a nearer one still and a dearer one, -yet, nevertheless, the shocking announcement came to her with sudden, -sharp surprise. - -We may be perfectly certain, absolutely sure, of a coming event, but -when it does occur its shock is felt in spite of previous assurance. We -may watch the dying and pray for death to end anguish, and know that it -is coming, but when the last low breath has gone, it is as much of a -shock to us as if it had not been expected, or even dreamed of. - -The announcement of the name was shattering to her composure. She knew -very well why Arrelsford would rejoice to find Thorne guilty of -anything, and she would have discounted any ordinary accusation that he -brought against him, but the train of the circumstances was so complete -in this case and the coincidences so unexplainable upon any other -theory, the evidence so convincing, that she was forced to admit that -Arrelsford was fully justified in his suspicion, and that without regard -to the fact that he was a rejected suitor of her daughter's. - -Surprise, horror, and conviction lodged in her soul, and were mirrored -in her face. Arrelsford saw and divined what was passing in her mind, -and, eager to strike while the iron was hot, bent forward open-mouthed -to continue his line of reasoning and denunciation, but Mrs. Varney -checked him. She laid her finger upon her lips and pointed with the -other hand to the front of the house. - -"What!" exclaimed the Confederate Secret Service agent; "is he there?" - -Mrs. Varney nodded. - -"He may be. He went out to the summerhouse some time ago to wait for -Edith; they were going over to Caroline Mitford's later on. I saw him go -down the walk." - -"Do you suppose my men could have alarmed him?" asked Arrelsford, -greatly perturbed at this unexpected development. - -"I don't know. They were all at the back windows. They didn't seem to -make much noise. I suppose not. You have a description of the man for -whom the letter was intended?" - -"Yes, at the office; but I remember it perfectly." - -"Does it fit this--this Captain Thorne?" - -"You might as well know sooner as later, Mrs. Varney, that there is no -Captain Thorne. This is an assumed name, and the man you have in your -house is Lewis Dumont." - -"Do you mean that he came here to----" - -"He came to this town, to this house," said Arrelsford vindictively, his -voice still subdued but full of fury, "knowing your position, the -influence of your name, your husband's rank and service, for the sole -purpose of getting recognised as a reputable person, so that he would be -less likely to be suspected. He has corrupted your servants--you saw old -Jonas--and he has contrived to enlist the powerful support of your -daughter. His aim is the War Department Telegraph Office. He is friends -with the men at that office. What else he hasn't done or what he has, -the Lord only knows. But Washington is not the only place where they -have a secret service; we have one at Richmond. Whatever game he plays, -it is one that two can play; and now it is my play." - -The patter of light footsteps was heard on the stairs, a flash of white -seen through the open door into the hall dimly lighted, and Edith Varney -came rapidly, almost breathlessly, into the room. She had changed her -dress, and if Caroline Mitford had been there, she would have known -certainly from the little air of festivity about her clean but faded and -darned, sprigged and flowered white muslin frock that she was going to -accept the invitation. In one hand she held her hat, which she swung -carelessly by its long faded ribbons, and in the other that official -envelope which had come to her from the President of the Confederacy. -She called to her mother as she ran down. - -"Mamma!" Her face was white and her voice pitched high, fraught with -excited intensity. "Under my window, in the rosebushes, at the back of -the house! They're hurting somebody frightfully, I am sure!" - -She burst into the room with the last word. Mrs. Varney stared at her, -understanding fully who, in all probability, was being roughly dealt -with in the rosebushes, and realising what a terrible effect such -disclosures as she had listened to would produce upon the mind of the -girl. - -"Come," said Edith, turning rapidly toward the rear window; "we must -stop it." - -Mrs. Varney stood as if rooted to the floor. - -"Well," said the girl, in great surprise, "if you aren't coming, I will -go myself." - -These words awakened her mother to action. - -"Wait, Edith," she said. - -Now, and for the first time, Edith noticed Mr. Arrelsford, who had -stepped back and away from her mother. She replied to his salutation -with a cold and distant bow. The man's face flushed; he turned away. - -"But, mamma, the men outside," persisted the girl. - -"Wait, my dear," said her mother, taking her gently by the arm; "I must -tell you something. It will be a great shock to you, I am afraid." - -"What is it, mamma? Has father or----" - -"No, no, not that," said Mrs. Varney. "A man we have trusted as a friend -has shown himself a conspirator, a spy, a traitor." - -"Who is it?" cried the girl, at the same time instinctively -divining--how or why she could not tell, and that thought smote her -afterward--to whom the reference was being made. - -Mrs. Varney naturally hesitated to say the name. Arrelsford, carried -away by his passion for the girl and his hatred for Thorne, was not so -reticent. He stepped toward her. - -"It is the gentleman, Miss Varney, whose attentions you have been -pleased to accept in the place of mine," he burst out bitterly. - -His manner and his meaning were unmistakable. The girl stared at him -with a white, haughty face, in spite of her trembling lips. Mechanically -she thrust the envelope with the commission into her belt, and -confronted the man who loved her and whom she did not love, who accused -of this hateful thing the man whom, in the twinkling of an eye, she -realised she did love. Then the daughter turned to her mother. - -"Is it Mr Arrelsford who makes this accusation?" she asked. - -"Yes," said Arrelsford, again answering for Mrs. Varney, "since you wish -to know. From the first I have had my suspicions about this----" - -But Edith did not wait for him to finish his sentence. She turned away -from him with loathing, and moved rapidly toward the front window. - -"Where are you going!" asked Arrelsford. - -"For Captain Thorne." - -"Not now," he said peremptorily. - -The colour flamed in the girl's cheek again. - -"Mr. Arrelsford, you have said something to me about Captain Thorne. Are -you afraid to say it to him?" - -"Miss Varney," answered Arrelsford hotly, "if you--if you----" - -"Edith," said Mrs. Varney, "Mr. Arrelsford has good reasons for not -meeting Captain Thorne now." - -"I should think he had," returned the girl swiftly; "for a man who made -such a charge to his face would not live to make it again." - -"My dear, my dear," said her mother, gently but firmly, "you don't -understand, you don't----" - -"Mamma," said the girl, "this man has left his desk in the War -Department so that he can have the pleasure of persecuting me." - -Both the mother and the rejected suitor noticed her identification of -herself with Captain Thorne in the pronoun "me," one with sinking heart -and the other with suppressed fury. - -"He has never attempted anything active in the service before," -continued Edith, "and when I ask him to face the man he accuses, he -turns like a coward!" - -"Mrs. Varney, if she thinks----" - -"I think nothing," said the girl furiously; "I know that Captain -Thorne's character is above suspicion." - -Arrelsford sneered. - -"His character! Where did he come from--what is he?" - -"For that matter," said Edith intensely, "where did you come from, and -what are you?" - -"That is not the question," was the abrupt reply. - -"Neither," said the girl, "is it the question who he is. If it were, I'd -answer it--I'd tell you that he is a soldier who has fought and been -wounded in service, while you----" - -Arrelsford made a violent effort to control himself under this bitter -jibing and goading, and to his credit, succeeded in part. - -"We are not so sure of that, Miss Varney," he said more coolly. - -"But I am sure," answered the girl. "Why, he brought us letters from -Stonewall Jackson himself." - -"Has it occurred to you that General Jackson was dead before his letters -were presented?" asked Arrelsford quickly. - -"What does that signify if he wrote them before he was killed?" - -"Nothing certainly," assented the other, "if he wrote them." - -"The signatures and the letters were verified." - -"They may have been written for some one else and this Thorne may have -possessed himself of them by fraud, or----" - -"Mr. Arrelsford," cried the girl, more and more angry, "if you mean----" - -"My dear child," said Mrs Varney, "you don't understand. They have -proofs of a conspiracy. The Yankees are going to try to break through -our lines to-night, some one is going to use the telegraph, and two men -in the Northern Secret Service have been sent here to do this work. One -is in Libby Prison. Our faithful Jonas has been corrupted. He went there -to-day and took a message from one and brought it here to deliver it to -the other. They are trying to make him speak out there to tell -who----Our country, our cause, is at stake." - -"Is this Mr. Arrelsford's story?" asked the daughter stubbornly, -apparently entirely unconvinced. - -"No; these are facts. We had Jonas in here," answered her mother; -"caught him off his guard, and found the incriminating paper on him." - -"But he has not said it was for----" persisted Edith desperately. - -"Not yet," whispered Mr. Arrelsford, "but he will. You may be sure of -that; we have means to--Oh, Corporal," he broke off eagerly, looking -toward the door where the Corporal stood, his hand at salute. "Well, -speak out, what does he say?" - -"Nothing, sir." - -"What have you done with him?" - -"Strung him up three times, and----" - -"Well, string him up again," snarled Arrelsford. "If he won't speak, -shoot it out of him, kill the dog. We don't need his evidence any way, -there's enough without it." - -"There is nothing," said Edith tersely. - -"By midnight," answered Arrelsford, "you shall have all the proof----" - -"There is no proof to have," persisted the girl. - -"I will show it to you at the telegraph office, if you dare to go with -me." - -"Dare! I will go anywhere, even with you, for that----" - -"I will call for you in half an hour then," said Arrelsford, going -toward the door. - -"Wait," interrupted Edith; "what are you going to do?" - -"I am going to let him get this paper," said Arrelsford, coming back to -the table. "He will know what they want him to do, and then we'll see -him try to do it." - -"You are going to spy on him, are you?" - -"I am going to prove what he is." - -"Then prove it openly at once. It is shameful to let such a suspicion -rest upon an honourable man. Let him come in here, and----" - -"It is impossible." - -"Then do something, something, but do it now!" cried the girl. "You will -soon know that he is innocent, you must know it. Wait! You say the -prisoner in Libby is his brother--that's what you said--his brother. -Bring him here. Go to the prison and bring that man here." - -"What?" - -"Let them meet. Bring them face to face, then you can see whether----" - -"You mean bring them together here?" - -"Yes." - -"As if the prisoner were trying to escape?" - -"Exactly." - -"There is something in that," said Arrelsford; "when do you suggest----" - -"Now." - -"I am willing to try it, but it depends upon you. Can you keep Thorne -here?" - -"I can." - -"It won't take more than half an hour. Be out there on the veranda. When -I tap on the glass bring him into this room and leave him alone. And I -can rely upon you to give him no hint or sign that we suspect----" - -"Mr. Arrelsford!" said the girl, indignant and haughty, and her mother -stepped swiftly toward her, looking at him contemptuously, as if he -should have known that such an action would be impossible for either of -them. - -Arrelsford gazed at them a minute or two, smiled triumphantly, and -passed out of the room. - -"Mamma, mamma!" moaned the girl, her eyes shut, her hand extended. -"Mamma," she repeated in anguish. - -"I am here, Edith dear; I am here," said Mrs. Varney, coming toward her -and taking her tenderly in her arms. - -"Do you think--do you think--that he--he could be what they say?" Her -hand fell upon the commission in her belt "This commission I got for him -this afternoon----" - -"Yes?" - -"The commission, you know, from the President, for the Telegraph -Service--why, he refused to take it," her voice rose and rang -triumphantly through the room; "he refused to take it! That doesn't look -as if he wanted to use the telegraph to betray us." - -"Refused! That's impossible!" said her mother. - -"He said that it was for me that he couldn't take it." - -"For you! Then it is true," answered Mrs. Varney. - -"No, no," said the girl; "don't say it." - -"Yes," said her mother; "the infamous----" The girl tried to stifle with -her hand upon her mother's lips the words, but Mrs. Varney shook off her -hand. "The spy, the traitor," she added witheringly. - -"No, no!" cried the girl, but as she spoke, conviction seemed to come to -her. Why was it that her faith was not more substantially based and -enduring? she asked herself. "Mamma," she wailed, "it can't be." She -buried her face in her hands for a moment and then tore them away and -confronted her mother boldly. "Won't you leave me alone for a little -while, mamma?" she asked plaintively. "I must get----" - -"I will go to Howard; I will be back in a short time, my dear," said her -mother, gently laying her hand on her daughter's bent head. - -Left alone, the girl took the commission from her belt, opened it, -smoothed it out, and read it through, as if bewildered and -uncomprehending. She folded it up again, and walked slowly over to one -of the front windows, drew aside the curtains, and pushed it open. All -was still. She listened for she knew not what. There was a footstep from -the far end of the walk leading from the summerhouse, a footstep she -knew. Edith moved rapidly away from the window to the table and stood by -it, her hand resting upon it, her knees fairly trembling in her emotion, -as she waited. The next moment the open space framed the figure of -Captain Thorne. He entered fearlessly, but when his eye fell upon her -there was something so strained about her attitude that a spark of -suspicion was kindled in his soul. Yet his action was prompt enough. He -came instantly toward her and took her hand. - -"Miss Varney," he said. - -Edith watched his approach fascinated, as a bird by a serpent. His touch -awakened her to action. She snatched her hand away and shrank back. - -"No; don't touch me!" she cried. - -He looked at her in amazement. The spark of suspicion burst into flame, -but she recovered herself instantly. - -"Oh, it was you," she faltered. She forced a smile to her lips. "How -perfectly absurd I am. I am sure I ought to be ashamed of myself. Come, -let's go out on the veranda. I want to talk to you about so many things. -There's--there's half an hour--yet before we must go to Caroline's." - -She had possessed herself of his hand again as she spoke. She now -stepped swiftly toward the window. He followed her reluctantly until -they reached the opening. She stepped through it and archly looked back -at him, still in the room. - -"How lovely is the night," she said with tender persuasiveness. "Come -with me." - -The man looked around him hastily. Every moment was precious to him. Did -Miss Varney know. If so, what did she know? What was to be gained or -lost by half an hour's delay on his part? He drew out his watch and -glanced at it swiftly. There was time. He would never see her again. He -might say he would possibly never see any one again after the hazards of -this night. He was entitled to one brief moment of happiness. How long -had she said? Half an hour. He would take it. - -"Aren't you coming, Captain Thorne?" cried the girl from the porch, all -the coquettish witchery of youth and the South in her voice. - -"I am coming," answered the officer, deliberately stepping through the -window, "for just half an hour," he added. - -"That will be time enough," replied the girl, laughing. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - BOOK II - - WHAT HAPPENED AT NINE O'CLOCK - - - - - CHAPTER VII - - WILFRED WRITES A LETTER - - -Half an hour is a short or a long time, depending upon the individual -mood or the exigencies of the moment. It was a short half hour to -Captain Thorne--to continue to give him the name by which he was -commonly known--out in the moonlight and the rose garden with Edith -Varney. It was short to him because he loved her and because he realised -that in that brief space must be packed experience enough to last him -into the long future, it might be into the eternal future! - -It was short to Edith Varney, in part at least for the same reason, but -it was shorter to him than to her, for at the end of that period the -guilt or innocence of the man she loved and who loved her would be -established beyond peradventure; either he was the brave, devoted, -self-sacrificing Confederate soldier she thought him, or he was a spy; -and since he came of a Virginia family, although West Virginia had -separated from the Old Dominion, she coupled the word spy with that of -traitor. Either or both would be enough to condemn him. Fighting against -suspicion, she would fain have postponed the moment of revelation, of -decision, therefore too quickly passed the flying moments. - -It was a short half hour to Thorne, because he might see her no more. It -was a short half hour again to Edith because she might see him no more, -and it might be possible that she could not even allow herself to dream -upon him in his absence in the future. The recollection of the woman -would ever be sweet and sacred to the man, but it might be necessary for -the woman to blot out utterly the remembrance of the man. - -It was a short half hour to young Wilfred in his own room, waiting -impatiently for old Martha to bring him the altered uniform, over which -Caroline was busily working in the large old-fashioned kitchen. She had -chosen that odd haven of refuge because there she was the least likely -to be interrupted and could pursue her task without fear of observation -by any other eyes than those of old Martha. The household had been -reduced to its smallest limit and the younger maids who were still -retained in the establishment had been summarily dismissed to their -quarters for the night by the old mammy. - -Now that Wilfred had taken the plunge, his impatience to go was at fever -heat. He could not wait, he felt, for another moment. He had spent some -of his half hour in composing a letter with great care. It was a short -letter and therefore was soon finished, and he was now pacing up and -down his room with uneasy steps waiting for old Martha's welcome voice. - -It was a long half hour for little Caroline Mitford, busily sewing away -in the kitchen. It seemed to her that she was taking forever to turn up -the bottoms of the trouser legs and make a "hem" on each, as she -expressed it. She was not very skilful at such rough needlework and her -eyes were not so very clear as she played at tailoring. This is no -reflection upon their natural clarity and brightness, but they were -quite often dimmed with tears, which once or twice brimmed over and -dropped upon the coarse fabric of the garment upon which she worked. She -had known the man who had worn them last, he had been a friend of hers, -and she knew the boy who was going to wear them next. - -If she could translate the emotions of her girlish heart, the new wearer -was more than a friend. Was the same fate awaiting the latter that the -former had met? - -The half hour was very long to Jonas, the old butler, trembling with -fright, suffering from his rough usage and terror-stricken with -anticipation of the further punishment that awaited him. - -The half hour was longest of all to Mrs. Varney. After her visit to -Howard, who had enjoyed one of his lucid moments and who seemed to be a -little better, she had come down to the drawing-room, at Mr. -Arrelsford's suggestion, to see that no one from the house who might -have observed, or divined, or learned, in any way what was going on -within should go out into the garden and disturb the young couple, or -give an alarm to the man who was the object of so much interest and -suspicion, so much love and hatred. - -About the only people who took no note of the time were the busy -sempstresses in the room across the hall, and the first sign of life -came from that room. Miss Kittridge, who appeared to have been -constituted the messenger of the workers, came out of the room, went -down the hall to the back of the house, and presently entered the -drawing-room, by the far door. - -"Well," she began, seeing Mrs. Varney, "we have just sent off another -batch of bandages." - -"Did the same man come for them?" asked the mistress of the house. - -"No, they sent another one." - -"Did you have much?" - -"Yes, quite a lot. We have all been at the bandages, they say that that -is what they need most. So long as we have any linen left we will work -at it." She turned to go away, but something in the elder woman's face -and manner awakened a slight suspicion in her mind. She stopped, turned, -and came back. "You look troubled, Mrs. Varney," she began. "Do you want -anything?" - -"No, nothing, thank you." - -"Is there anything I can do or anything any of us can do?" - -"Not a thing, my dear," answered Mrs. Varney, trying to smile and -failing dismally. - -"Is it Howard?" persisted the other, anxious to be of service. - -"He seems to be a little better," returned the woman. - -"I am glad to hear it, and if there is anything any of us could do for -you, you would certainly tell me." - -The elder woman nodded and Miss Kittridge turned decisively away and -stepped briskly toward the door. On second thought, there was something -she could do, reflected Mrs. Varney, and so she rose, stepped to the -door in turn, and called her back. - -"Perhaps it would be just as well," she said, "if any of the ladies want -to go to let them out the other way. You can open the door into the back -hall. We're expecting some one here on important business, you know, and -we----" - -"I understand," said Miss Kittridge. - -"And you will see to this?" - -"Certainly; trust me." - -"Thank you." - -Mrs. Varney turned with a little sigh of relief and went back to her -place by the table, where her work basket sat near to hand. No woman in -Richmond was without a work basket with work in it for any length of -time during those days. The needle was second only to the bayonet in the -support of the dying Confederacy! She glanced at it, but, sure evidence -of the tremendous strain under which she laboured, she made no motion to -take it up. Instead, after a moment of reflection, she crossed to the -wall and pulled the bell rope. In a short time, considering her bulk and -unwieldiness, old Martha appeared at the far door. - -"Did you ring, ma'am?" she asked. - -"Yes," was the answer. "Has Miss Caroline gone yet?" - -"No, ma'am," answered Martha, smilingly displaying a glorious set of -white teeth. "She's been out in de kitchen fo' a w'ile." - -"In the kitchen?" - -"Yas'm. Ah took her out dere. She didn't want to be seed by no one." - -"And what is she doing there?" - -"She's been mostly sewin' an' behabin' mighty strange about sumfin a -gret deal ob de time. She's a-snifflin' an' a-weepin', but Ah belieb -she's gittin' ready to gwine home now." - -"Very well," said Mrs. Varney, "will you please ask her to come in here -a moment before she goes." - -"Yas'm, 'deed Ah will," said old Martha, turning and going out of the -door through which, presently, Caroline herself appeared. - -She looked very demure and the air of innocence, partly natural but -largely assumed, well became her although it did not deceive Mrs. Varney -for a moment, or would not have deceived her if she had had any special -interest in Caroline's actions or emotions. The greater strain under -which she laboured made the girl of small moment; she would simply use -her, that was all. - -"Caroline, dear," she began immediately, "are you in a great hurry to go -home?" - -"No, ma'am, not particularly, especially if I can do anything for you -here," answered the girl readily, somewhat surprised. - -"It happens that you can," said Mrs. Varney; "if you can stay here a few -minutes while I go upstairs to Howard it will be a great help to me." - -"You want me just to wait here, is that it?" asked the girl, somewhat -mystified. - -Why on earth anybody should be required to wait in a vacant room was -something which Caroline could not understand, but Mrs. Varney's next -words sought to explain it. - -"I don't want you merely to wait here but--well, in fact, I don't want -anybody to go out on the veranda, or into the garden, from the front of -the house, under any circumstances." - -Caroline's eyes opened in great amazement. She did not in the least -understand what it was all about until Mrs. Varney explained further. - -"You see Edith's there with----" - -"Oh, yes," laughed the girl, at last, as she thought, comprehending, -"you want them to be left alone. I know how that is, whenever I am--when -some--that is of course I will see to it," she ended rather lamely and -in great confusion. - -"Just a few minutes, dear," said Mrs. Varney, smiling faintly at the -girl's blushing cheeks and not thinking it worth while to correct the -misapprehension, "I won't be long." She stepped across the room, but -turned in the doorway for her final injunction, "Do be careful, won't -you?" - -"Careful!" said Caroline to herself, "I should think I would be careful. -As if I didn't know enough for that. I can guess what is going on out -there in the moonlight. I wouldn't have them disturbed for the world. -Why, if I were out there with--with--Wil--with anybody, I wouldn't----" - -She stopped in great dismay at her own admissions and stood staring -toward the front windows, over which Mrs. Varney had most carefully -drawn the heavy hangings. - -Presently her curiosity got the better of her sense of propriety. She -went to the nearest window, pulled the curtains apart a little, and -peered eagerly out. She saw nothing, nothing but the trees in the -moonlight, that is; Edith and Captain Thorne were not within view nor -were they within earshot. She turned to the other window. Now that she -had made the plunge, she determined to see what was going on if she -could. She drew the couch up before the window and knelt down upon it, -and parting the curtains, looked out, but with the same results as -before. In this questionable position she was unfortunately caught by -Wilfred Varney. - -He was dressed in the grey jacket and the trousers which she had -repaired. She had not made a skilful job of her tailoring but it would -serve. The whole suit was worn, ill-fitting, and soiled; but it was -whole. That was more than could be said of ninety-nine per cent. of the -uniforms commonly seen round about Richmond. Measured by these, Wilfred -was sumptuously, even luxuriously, dressed, and the pride expressed in -his port and bearing was as complete as it was naïve. He walked softly -up the long room, intending to surprise the girl, but boy-like, he -stumbled over a stool on his way forward, and the young lady turned -about quickly and confronted him with an exclamation. Wilfred came close -to her and spoke in a low, fierce whisper. - -"Mother isn't anywhere about, is she?" - -"No," said Caroline in the same tone, "she's just gone upstairs to see -Howard, but she is coming back in a few minutes, she said." - -"Well," returned Wilfred, throwing his chest out impressively, "I am not -running away from her, but if she saw me with these on she might feel -funny." - -"I don't think," returned Caroline quickly, "that she would feel very -funny." - -"Well, you know what I mean," said Wilfred, flushing a little. "You know -how it is with a fellow's mother." - -Caroline nodded gravely. - -"Yes, I have learned how it is with mothers," she said, thinking of the -mothers she had known since the war began, young though she was. - -"Other people don't care," said Wilfred, "but mothers are different." - -"Some other people don't care," answered Caroline softly, fighting hard -to keep back a rush of tears. - -In spite of herself her eyes would focus themselves upon that little -round blood-stained hole in the left breast of the jacket. She had not -realised before how straight that bullet had gone to the heart of the -other wearer. There was something terribly ominous about it. But Wilfred -blundered blindly on, unconscious of this emotion or of its cause. He -drew from the pocket in his blouse a paper. He sat down at the table, -beckoning Caroline as he did so. The girl came closer and looked over -his shoulder as he unfolded the paper. - -"I have written that letter," he said, "to the General, my father, that -is. Here it is. I have got to send it to him in some way. It is all -written but the last words and I am not sure about them. I'm not going -to say 'your loving son' or anything of that kind. This is a man's -letter, a soldier's letter. I love him, of course, but this is not the -time or the place to put that sort of a thing in. I have been telling -him----" He happened to glance up as he spoke and discovered to his -great surprise that Caroline had turned away from him and was no longer -looking at him. "Why, what's the matter?" he exclaimed. - -"Nothing, nothing," answered the girl, forcing herself to face him once -more. - -"I thought you wanted to help me," he continued. - -"Oh, yes! I do, I do." - -"Well, you can't help me way off there," said Wilfred. "Come closer." - -He spoke like a soldier already, thought the girl, but she meekly, for -her, obeyed the imperious command. He stared at her, as yet unconscious -but strangely agitated nevertheless. The silence was soon insupportable, -and Caroline herself broke it. - -"The--the----" she pointed at the trousers, "are they how you wanted -them?" - -"Fine," replied Wilfred; "they are just perfect. There isn't a girl in -Richmond who could have done them better. Now about the letter. I want -your advice on it; what do you think?" - -"Tell me what you said." - -"You want to hear it?" asked Wilfred. - -"I've got to, haven't I? How could I help you if I didn't know what it -was all about?" - -"You're a pretty good girl, Caroline. You will help me, won't you?" - -Her hand rested on the table as she bent over him, and he laid his own -hand upon it and squeezed it warmly, too warmly thought Caroline, as she -slowly drew it away and was sorry she did it the moment she had done so. - -"Yes, I will help you," she said. "But about the letter? You will have -to hurry. I am sure your mother will be here in a short time." - -"Well, that letter is mighty important, you know. Everything depends -upon it, much more than on mother's letter, I am sure." - -"I should think so," said the girl. - -She drew a chair up to the table and sat down by the side of the boy. - -"I am just going to give it to him strong," said Wilfred. - -"That's the way to give it to him," said Caroline. "He's a soldier and -he's accustomed to such things." - -"You can't fool much with father. He means business," said Wilfred; "but -he will find that I mean business, too." - -"That's right," assented Caroline sapiently, "everybody has got to mean -business now. What did you say to him?" - -"I said this," answered the youngster, reading slowly and with great -pride, "'General Ransom Varney, Commanding Division, Army of Northern -Virginia, Dear Papa'----" - -"I wouldn't say 'dear papa' to a General," interrupted Caroline -decisively. - -"No? What would you say?" - -"I would say 'Sir,' of course; that is much more businesslike and -soldiers are always so awfully abrupt." - -"You are right," said the boy, beginning again, "'General Ransom Varney, -Commanding Division, Army of Northern Virginia, Sir'--that sounds fine, -doesn't it?" - -"Splendid," said the girl, "go on." - -"'This is to notify you that I want you to let me join the Army right -now. If you don't, I will enlist anyway, that's all. The seventeen call -is out and I am not going to wait for the sixteen. Do you think I am a -damned coward'----" - -Wilfred paused and looked apprehensively at Caroline, who nodded with -eyes sparkling brightly. - -"That's fine," she said. - -"I thought it sounded like a soldier." - -"It does; you ought to have heard the Third Virginia swear----" - -"Oh," said Wilfred, who did not quite relish that experience; but he -went on after a little pause. "'Tom Kittridge has gone; he was killed -yesterday at Cold Harbor. Billie Fisher has gone and so has Cousin -Stephen. He is not sixteen, he lied about his age, but I don't want to -do that unless you make me. I will, though, if you do. Answer this right -now or not at all.'" - -"I think that is the finest letter I have ever heard," said Caroline -proudly, as Wilfred stopped, laid the paper down, and stared at her. - -"Do you really think so?" - -"It is the best letter I----" - -"I am glad you are pleased with it. Now the next thing is how to end -it." - -"Why, just end it." - -"But how?" - -"Sign your name, of course." - -"Nothing else?" - -"What else is there?" - -"Just Wilfred?" - -"No, Wilfred Varney." - -"That's the thing." He took up a pen from the table and scrawled his -name at the bottom of this interesting and historical document. "And you -think the rest of it will do?" - -"I should think it would," she assented heartily. "I wish your father -had it now." - -"So do I," said Wilfred. "Maybe it will take two or three days to get it -to him and I just can't wait that long." - -Caroline rose to her feet suddenly under the stimulus of a bright idea -that came into her mind. - -"I tell you what we can do." - -"What?" - -"We can telegraph him," she exclaimed. - -"Good idea," cried Wilfred, more and more impressed with Caroline's -wonderful resourcefulness, but a disquieting thought immediately struck -him. "Where am I going to get the money?" he asked dubiously. - -"It won't take very much." - -"It won't? Do you know what they are charging now? Over seven dollars a -word only to Petersburg." - -"Well, let them charge it," said Caroline calmly, "we can cut it down to -only a few words and the address won't cost anything." - -"Won't it?" - -"No, they never charge for that," continued the girl. "That's a heap of -money saved, and then we can use what we save on the address for the -rest." - -Wilfred stared at her as if this problem in economics was not quite -clear to his youthful brain, but she gave him no time to question her -ingenious calculations. - -"What comes after the address?" she asked in her most businesslike -manner. - -"'Sir.'" - -"Leave that out." - -Wilfred swept his pen through it. - -"He knows it already," said Caroline. "What's next?" - -"'This is to notify you that I want you to let me come right now.'" - -"We could leave out that last 'to,'" said Caroline. - -Wilfred checked it off, and then read, "'I want you--let me come right -now.' That doesn't sound right, and anyway it is such a little word." - -"Yes, but it costs seven dollars just the same as a big word," observed -Caroline. - -"But it doesn't sound right without it," argued the boy; "we have got to -leave it in. What comes after that?" - -Caroline in turn took up the note and read, - -"'If you don't, I'll come anyhow, that's all.'" - -"You might leave out 'that's all,'" said Wilfred. - -"No, don't leave that out. It's very important. It doesn't seem to be so -important, but it is. It shows--well--it shows that that's all there is -about it. That one thing might convince him." - -"Yes, but we've got to leave out something." - -"Not that, though. Perhaps there is something else. 'The seventeen call -is out'--that's got to stay." - -"Yes," said Wilfred. - -"'The sixteen comes next.' That's just got to stay." - -"Of course. Now, what follows?" - -"'I'm not going to wait for it,'" read Caroline. - -"We can't cut that out," said Wilfred; "we don't seem to be making much -progress, do we?" - -"Well, we will find something in a moment. 'Do you think I am'----" she -hesitated a moment, "'a damned coward,'" she read with a delicious -thrill at her rash, vicarious wickedness. - -Wilfred regarded her dubiously. He felt as an author does when he sees -his pet periods marked out by the blue pencil of the ruthless editor. - -"You might leave that out," he began, cutting valiantly at his most -cherished and admired phrase. - -"No," protested Caroline vehemently, "certainly not! That is the best -thing in the whole letter." - -"That 'damn' is going to cost us seven dollars, you know." - -"It is worth it," said Caroline, "it is the best thing you have written. -Your father is a General in the army, he'll understand that kind of -language. What's next? I know there's something now." - -"'Tom Kittridge has gone. He was killed yesterday at Cold Harbor.'" - -"Leave out that about"--she caught her breath, and her eyes fixed -themselves once more on that little round hole in the breast of his -jacket--"about his being killed." - -"But he was killed and so was Johnny Sheldon--I have his uniform, you -know." - -"I know he was, but you don't have to tell your father," said Caroline, -choking up, "you don't have to telegraph him the news, do you?" - -"No, of course not, but----" - -"That's all there is to the letter except the end." - -"Why, that leaves it just the same except the part about----" - -"Yes," said Caroline in despair, "and after all the work we have done." - -"Let's try it again," said Wilfred. - -"No," said Caroline, "there is no use. Everything else has got to stay." - -"Well, then we can't telegraph it. It would cost hundreds of dollars." - -"Yes, we can telegraph it," said Caroline determinedly, "you give it to -me. I'll get it sent." - -"But how are you going to send it?" asked Wilfred, extending the letter. - -"Never you mind," answered the girl. - -"See here!" the boy cried. "I am not going to have you spend your money, -and----" - -"There's no danger of that, I haven't any to spend." She took the letter -from his hand. "I reckon Douglass Foray'll send it for me. He's in the -telegraph office and he'll do most anything for me." - -"No," said Wilfred sternly. - -"What's the reason he won't?" asked the girl. - -"Because he won't." - -"What do you care so long as he sends it?" - -"Well, I do care and that's enough. I'm not going to have you making -eyes at Dug Foray on my account." - -"Oh, well," said the girl, blushing. "Of course if you feel that way -about it, I----" - -"That's the way I feel all right. But you won't give up the idea of -helping me, will you, because I--feel like that?" - -"No," answered Caroline softly, "I'll help you all I can--about that -letter, do you mean?" - -"Yes, about that letter and about other things, too." - -"Give it to me," said the girl, "I will go over it again." - -She sat down at the desk, and as she scanned it, Wilfred watched her -anxiously. To them Mrs. Varney entered. She had an open letter in one -hand and a cap and belt in the other. She stopped in the doorway and -motioned for some one in the hall to follow her, and an orderly entered -the room. His uniform was covered with dust, his sunburned, grim face -was covered with sweat and dust also. He stood in the doorway with the -ease of a veteran soldier, that is without the painful effort to be -precise or formal which marks the young aspirant for military honours. - -"Wilfred," said Mrs. Varney, quickly approaching him, "here is a letter -from your father." She extended the paper. "He sent it by his orderly." - -Wilfred stepped closer to the elder woman while Caroline slowly rose -from her chair, her eyes fixed on Mrs. Varney. - -"What does he say, mother?" asked Wilfred. - -"He says----" answered his mother with measured quietness, and -controlling herself with the greatest difficulty, "he tells me -that--that you--are----" in spite of her tremendous effort, her voice -failed her. "Read it yourself, my boy," she whispered pitifully. - -The letter was evidently exceedingly brief. A moment put Wilfred in -possession of its contents. His mother stood with head averted. Caroline -stared with trembling lips, a pale face, and a heaving bosom. It was to -the orderly that Wilfred addressed himself. - -"I am to go back with you?" - -"General's orders, sir," answered the soldier, saluting, "to enter the -service. God knows we need everybody now." - -"When do we start?" asked Wilfred eagerly, his face flushing as he -realised that his fondest desire was now to be gratified. - -"As soon as you are ready, sir. I am waiting." - -"I am ready now," said Wilfred. He turned to his mother. "You won't -mind, mother," he said, his own lips trembling a little for the first -time at the sight of her grief. - -Mrs. Varney shook her head. She stepped nearer to him, smoothed the hair -back from his forehead, and stretched out her arms to him as if she fain -would embrace him, but she controlled herself and handed him the cap and -belt. - -"Your brother," she said slowly, "seems to be a little better. He wants -you to take his cap and belt. I told him your father had sent for you, -and I knew you would wish to go to the front at once." - -Wilfred took the belt from her trembling hands, and buckled it about -him. His mother handed him the cap. - -"Howard says he can get another belt when he wants it, and you are to -have his blankets, too. I will go and get them." - -She turned and left the room. She was nearly at the end of her resisting -power, and but for the welcome diversion incident to her departure, she -could not have controlled herself longer. The last one! One taken, one -trembling, and now Wilfred! - -The boy entered into none of the emotions of his mother. He clapped the -cap on his head and threw it back. - -"Fits me just as if it were made for me," he said, settling the cap -firmly in place. "Orderly, I will be with you in a jiffy." - -Caroline stood still near the table, her eyes on the floor. - -"We won't have to send it now, will we?" he pointed to the letter. - -Caroline, with a long, deep sigh, shook her head, and slowly handed the -letter to him. Wilfred took it mechanically, his eyes fixed on the girl, -who had suddenly grown very white of face, trembly of lip, and teary of -eye-lashes. - -"You are very good," he said, tearing the letter into pieces, "to help -me like you did." - -"It was nothing," whispered the girl. - -"You can help me again, if you want to." - -Caroline lifted her eyes to his face, and he saw within their depths -that which encouraged him. - -"I can fight twice as well, if----" - -Poor little Caroline couldn't trust herself to speak. She nodded through -her tears. - -"Good-bye," said Wilfred, "you will write to me about helping me to -fight twice as well, won't you. You know what I mean?" - -Caroline nodded again. - -"I wouldn't mind if you telegraphed me that you would." - -What might have happened further will never be determined, for at this -juncture Mrs. Varney came back with an old faded blanket tied in a roll. -She handed it to the boy without speaking. Wilfred threw it over his -shoulder, and kissed his mother hurriedly. - -"You won't mind much, will you, mother. I will soon be back. Orderly!" -he cried. - -"Sir." - -"I am ready," said Wilfred. - -He threw one long, meaning look at Caroline, and followed the soldier -out of the door and across the hall. The opening and closing of an -outside door was heard, and then all was still. Mrs. Varney held her -hand to her heart, and long, shuddering breaths came from her. He might -soon be back, but how. She knew all about the famous injunction of the -Spartan woman, "With your shield or on it," but somehow she had had no -idea of the full significance until it came to her last boy, and for a -moment she was forgetful of poor, little Caroline until she saw the girl -wavering toward the door, and there was no disguise about the real tears -in her eyes now. - -"Are you going, dear?" asked Mrs. Varney, forcing herself to speak. - -Caroline nodded her head as before. - -"Oh, yes," continued the older woman, "your party, you have to be -there." - -At that the girl found voice, and without looking back she murmured, -"There won't be any party to-night." - - - - - CHAPTER VIII - - EDITH IS FORCED TO PLAY THE GAME - - -Caroline's departure was again interrupted by the inopportune reëntrance -from the back hall of Mr. Arrelsford, who was accompanied by two -soldiers, whom he directed to remain by the door. As he advanced rapidly -toward Mrs. Varney, Caroline stepped aside toward the rear window. - -"Is he----" began Arrelsford, turning toward the window, and starting -back in surprise as he observed Caroline for the first time. - -"Yes, he is there," answered the woman. - -"Oh, Mrs. Varney," cried Caroline, "there's a heap of soldiers out in -your backyard here. You don't reckon anything's the matter, do you?" - -The girl did not lower her voice, and was greatly surprised at the -immediate order for silence which proceeded from Mr. Arrelsford, whose -presence she acknowledged with a very cool, indifferent bow. - -"No, there is nothing the matter, dear," said Mrs. Varney. "Martha," she -said to the old servant who had come in response to her ring, "I want -you to go home with Miss Mitford. You must not go alone, dear. -Good-night." - -"Thank you very much, Mrs. Varney," answered Caroline. "Come, Martha." -As she turned, she hesitated. "You don't reckon she could go with me -somewhere else, do you?" - -"Why, where else do you want to go at this hour, my dear girl?" asked -Mrs. Varney. - -"Just to--to the telegraph office," answered Caroline. - -Mr. Arrelsford, who had been waiting with ill-concealed impatience -during this dialogue, started violently. - -"Now!" exclaimed Mrs. Varney in great surprise, not noticing the actions -of her latest guest. "At this time of night?" - -"Yes," answered Caroline, "it is on very important business, and--I----" - -"Oh," returned Mrs. Varney, "if that is the case, Martha must go with -you." - -"You know we haven't a single servant left at our house," Caroline said -in explanation of her request. - -"I know," said Mrs. Varney, "and, Martha, don't leave her for an -instant." - -"No'm," answered Martha, "Ah'll take ca' ob huh." - -As soon as she had left the room, passing between the two soldiers, -Arrelsford took up the conversation. He spoke quickly and in a sharp -voice. He was evidently greatly excited. - -"What is she going to do at the telegraph office?" he asked. - -"I have no idea," answered the woman. - -"Has she had any conversation with him?" said Arrelsford, pointing to -the front of the house. - -"They were talking together in this room early this evening before you -came the first time, but it isn't possible she could----" - -"Anything is possible," snapped Arrelsford impatiently. He was evidently -determined to suspect everybody, and leave no stone unturned to prevent -the failure of his plans. "Corporal," he cried, "have Eddinger follow -that girl. He must get to the telegraph office as soon as she does, and -don't let any despatch she tries to send get out before I see it. Let -her give it in, but hold it. Make no mistake about that. Get an order -from the department for you to bring it to me." As the Corporal saluted -and turned away to give the order, Arrelsford faced Mrs. Varney again. -"Are they both out there?" - -"Yes," answered the woman. "Did you bring the man from Libby Prison?" - -"I did, the guards have him out in the street on the other side of the -house. When we get Thorne in here alone I'll have him brought over to -that back window and shoved into the room." - -"And where shall I stay?" - -"Out there," said Arrelsford, "by the lower door, opening upon the back -hall. You can get a good view of everything from there." - -"But if he sees me?" - -"He won't see you if it is dark in the hall." He turned to the Corporal -who had reëntered and resumed his station. "Turn out those lights out -there," he said. "We can close these curtains, can't we?" - -"Certainly," said Mrs. Varney, opening the rear door and drawing the -heavy portières, but leaving space between them so that any one in the -dark hall could see through them but not be seen from the room. - -"I don't want too much light in here, either," said Arrelsford. As he -spoke he blew out the candles in the two candelabra which had been -placed on the different tables, and left the large, long room but dimly -illuminated by the candles in the sconces on the walls. - -Mrs. Varney watched him with fascinated awe. In spite of herself there -still lingered a hope that Arrelsford might be mistaken. Thorne had -enlisted her interest, and he might under other conditions have aroused -her matronly affections, and she was hoping against hope that he might -yet prove himself innocent, not only because of his personality but as -well because the thought that she might have entertained a spy was -repugnant to her, and because of the honour of the Dumont family, which -was one of the oldest and most important ones in the western hills of -the Old Dominion. - -Arrelsford meantime completed his preparations by moving the couch which -Caroline Mitford had placed before the window back to the wall. - -"Now, Mrs. Varney," he said, stepping far back out of sight of the -window, "will you open the curtains? Do it casually, carelessly, please, -so as not to awaken any suspicion if you are seen." - -"But your soldiers, won't they----" - -"They are all at the back of the house. They came in the back way, and -the field in front is absolutely clear, although I have men concealed in -the street to stop any one who may attempt to escape that way." - -Mrs. Varney walked over to the window and drew back the curtains. She -stood for a moment looking out into the clear, peaceful quietness of a -soft spring night. The moon was full, and being somewhat low shone -through the long windows and into the room, the candle light not being -bright enough to dim its radiance. Her task being completed, she turned, -and once more the man who was in command pointed across the hall toward -the room on the other side. - -"Are those women in there yet?" he asked peremptorily. - -"Yes." - -"Where is the key?" - -Mrs. Varney left the room and went to the door. - -"It is on this side," she said. - -"Will you lock it, please?" - -The woman softly turned the key in the lock, and returned to the -drawing-room without a sound. As she did so the noise of the opening of -one of the long French windows in the front of the room attracted the -attention of both of them. Edith Varney entered the room nervously and -stepped forward. She began breathlessly, in a low, feverishly excited -voice. - -"Mamma!" - -Mrs. Varney hurried toward her and caught her outstretched hand. - -"I want to speak to you," whispered the girl. - -"We can't wait," said Arrelsford, stepping forward. - -"You must," persisted the girl. She turned to her mother again, "I can't -do it, I can't! Oh, let me go!" - -"But, my dear," said her mother, "you were the one who suggested -that----" - -"But I was sure then, and now----" - -"Has he confessed?" asked Mrs. Varney. - -"No, no," answered the girl with a glance of fear and apprehension -toward Arrelsford, who stood staring menacingly at her elbow. - -"Don't speak so loud," whispered the Secret Service Agent. - -"Edith," said her mother soothingly, "what is it that has changed you?" - -She waited for an answer, but none came. The girl's face had been very -pale but it now flushed suddenly with colour. - -"Dear," said her mother, "you must tell me." - -Edith motioned Mr. Arrelsford away. He went with ill-concealed -impatience to the far side of the room and waited nervously to give the -signal, anxious lest something should miscarry because of this -unfortunate unwillingness of the girl to play her part. - -"What is it, dear?" whispered her mother. - -"Mamma," said Edith, she forced the words out, "he--he--loves me." - -"Impossible!" returned Mrs. Varney, controlling her voice so that the -other occupant of the room could not hear. - -"Yes," faltered the girl, "and I--some one else must do it." - -"You don't mean," said Mrs. Varney, "that you return----" - -But Mr. Arrelsford's patience had been strained to the breaking point. -He did not know what interchange was going on between the two women, but -it must be stopped. He came forward resolutely. The girl saw his -determination in his face. - -"No, no," she whispered, "not that, not now!" - -She shrank away from him as she spoke. - -"But, Edith," said Mrs. Varney, "more reason now than ever." - -"I don't know what you are talking about," said Mr. Arrelsford, "but we -must go on." - -"But why--why are you doing this?" asked Edith, pleading desperately. - -"Because I please," snapped out the Secret Service Agent, and it was -quite evident that he was pleased. Some of his satisfaction was due to -the fact that he had by his own efforts at last succeeded in unearthing -a desperate plot, and had his hands on the plotters. That he was thereby -serving his country and demonstrating his fitness for his position of -responsibility and trust also added to his satisfaction, but this was -greatly enhanced by the fact that Thorne was his rival, and he could -make a guess that he was a successful rival in love as well as in war. - -"You have never pleased before," persisted Edith. "Hundreds of -suspicious cases have come up--hundreds of men have been run down--but -you preferred to sit at your desk in the War Department, until----" - -"Edith! Edith!" interposed her mother. - -"I can't discuss that now," said Arrelsford. - -"No, we will not discuss it. I will have nothing more to do with the -affair." - -"You won't," whispered Arrelsford threateningly. - -"Don't say that," urged Mrs. Varney. - -"Nothing, nothing at all," said Edith. - -"At your own suggestion, Miss Varney," persisted the Secret Service -Agent vehemently, "I agreed to accept a plan by which we could criminate -this friend of yours or establish his innocence. When everything is -ready you propose to withdraw and make the experiment a failure, perhaps -allowing him to escape altogether and being a party to treason against -your own country." - -Edith looked from Arrelsford's set face, with his bitter words, the -truth of which she was too just not to acknowledge, ringing in her ears, -to the face of her mother. It was a sweet face, full of sympathy and -love, but it was set in the same way as the man's. The patriotism of the -woman was aroused. The kind of help that Edith wanted in her mother's -look she did not find there. - -"You mustn't do this, Edith; you must do your part," said Mrs. Varney. - -The resolution of the girl gave way. - -"He is there," she faltered piteously, "he is there at the further end -of the veranda. What more do you want of me?" Her voice rose in spite of -her efforts to control herself. - -"Call him to the room, and do it naturally. If any one else should do it -he would suspect something immediately and be on his guard." - -"Very well," said the girl helplessly. "I will call him." - -She turned toward the window. - -"Wait," said Arrelsford, "one thing more. I want him to have this -paper." He handed Edith the communication which had been taken from -Jonas earlier in the evening. - -"What am I to do with this?" asked the girl, taking it. - -"Give it to him, and tell him where it came from. Tell him old Jonas got -it from a prisoner at Libby Prison and brought it to you." - -"But why am I to do this?" asked the girl. - -"Why not? If he is innocent, what's the harm? If not, if he is in the -plot and we can't catch him otherwise, the message on the paper will -send him to the telegraph office to-night, and that's where we want -him." - -"But I never promised that," said the girl with obvious reluctance to do -anything not only that might tend to harm the suspected, but that might -work to the furtherance of Arrelsford's designs. - -"Do you still believe him innocent?" sneered the man. - -Edith lifted her head and for the first time she looked Arrelsford full -in the face. - -"I still believe him innocent," answered the girl, slowly and with -deliberate emphasis. - -"Then why are you afraid to give him the paper?" asked Arrelsford, -directly with cunning adroitness. - -The girl, thus entrapped, clasped the paper to her breast, and turned -toward the window. Her mind was made up, but it was not necessary for -her to call. Her ear, tuned to every sound he made, caught the noise of -his footfall on the porch. She turned her head and spoke to the other -two. - -"Captain Thorne is coming," she whispered expressionlessly, "unless you -want to be seen, you had better go." - -"Here, this way, Mrs. Varney," said Arrelsford, taking that lady by the -arm and going down to the far end to the door covered by the portières. - -The two disappeared, and it was impossible for a soul to see them in the -darkness of the hall, although they could see clearly enough, even in -the dimly lighted drawing-room, everything that would happen. Edith -stood as if rooted to the floor, the paper still in her hand, when -Thorne opened the sash which she had closed behind her and entered in -his turn the window through which she had come a short time before. He -stepped eagerly toward her. - -"You were so long," he whispered, "coming for me, that----" He stopped -abruptly, and looked at her face, "is anything the matter?" - -"No." - -"You had been away such a long time that I thought----" - -"Only a few minutes." - -"Only a few years," said the man passionately. His voice was low and -gently modulated, not because he had anything to conceal but because of -the softness of the moonlight and the few candles dimly flickering upon -the walls of the great room, the look in the girl's eyes, and the -feeling in his heart. A few minutes, the girl had said!--Ah, it was -indeed a few years to him. - -"If it was a few years to you," returned the girl with a violent effort -at lightness, although her heart was torn to pieces with the emotions of -the moment, "what a lot of time there is." - -"No," said Thorne, "there is only to-night." - -Edith threw out her hand to check what she would fain have heard, but -Thorne caught it. He came closer to her. - -"There's only to-night, and you in the world," he said. - -"You overwhelm me." - -"I can't help myself. I came here determined not to tell you how I loved -you, and for the last half hour I have been telling you nothing else. I -could tell you all my life and never finish. Ah, my darling, my -darling,--there's only to-night and you." - -Edith swayed toward him for a moment, completely influenced by his -ardour, but then drew back. - -"No, no," she faltered. "You mustn't." She glanced around the room -apprehensively. "No, no, not now!" - -"You are right," said the man. She dragged herself away from him. He -would not retain her against her will, and without a struggle he -released her hand. "You are right. Don't mind what I said, Miss Varney. -I have forgotten myself, believe me." He drew further away from her. "I -came to make a brief call, to say good-bye, and----" - -He turned and walked toward the hall door, after making her a low bow, -and it was not without a feeling of joy that she noticed that he walked -unsteadily, blindly. - -"Oh, Captain Thorne," she said, just as he had reached the door, "I----" - -He stopped and looked back. - -"Before you go I want to ask your advice about something." - -"My advice!" - -"Yes, it seems to be a military matter, and----" - -"What is it?" asked Thorne, turning back. - -"What do you think this means?" said the girl, handing him the folded -despatch. - -She had intended to look him full in the face as he took it, but at the -last moment her courage failed her. She looked away and did not see the -instant but quickly mastered start of surprise. She was only conscious -that Thorne had possessed himself of the document. - -"What is it?" asked Thorne, holding it in his hand. - -"That is what I want you to tell me," said the girl. - -"Oh, don't you know?" said Thorne, now entirely master of himself. - -"No," answered the girl, but there was something in her voice which now -fully aroused the suspicions of the man. - -"It appears to be a note from some one," he said casually, "but it is so -dark in here. With your permission, I will light some of the candles on -the table, and then we can see what it is." - -He took one of the candles from the sconces on the wall and lighted the -candelabra that stood on the nearest table. Holding the paper near the -light, he glanced around rapidly, and then read it, giving no outward -evidence of his surprise and alarm, although the girl was now watching -him narrowly. He glanced at her and then looked at the paper again, and -slowly read aloud its message. - -"'_Attack to-night?_'" he said very deliberately. "Umph, '_Plan 3? -Attack to-night, plan 3!_' This seems to be in some code, Miss Varney, -or a puzzle." - -"It was taken from a Yankee prisoner." - -"From a Yankee prisoner!" he exclaimed in brilliantly assumed surprise. - -"Yes, one captured to-day. He is down at Libby now. He gave it to one of -our servants, old Jonas, and----" - -"That's a little different," said Thorne, examining the paper again. "It -puts another face on the matter. This may be something important. -'_Attack to-night_,'" he read again, "_'Plan 3, use telegraph'!_ This -sounds important to me, Miss Varney. It looks to me like a plot to use -the Department Telegraph lines. To whom did Jonas give it?" - -"To no one." - -"Well, how did you----" - -"We took it away from him," answered Edith. - -This was a very different statement from her original intention, but for -the moment the girl forgot her part. - -"Oh," said Thorne, "I think that was a mistake." - -"A mistake?" - -"Yes." - -"But why?" - -"You should have let him deliver it, but it is too late now. Never -mind." He turned toward the door. - -Edith caught him by the arm. Was he going out to certain death or what? - -"What are you going to do?" she asked breathlessly. - -"Find Jonas, and make him tell for whom this paper was intended. He is -the man we want." - -The girl released him, and caught her throat with her hand. - -"Captain Thorne," she choked out, and there was joy and triumph in her -face, "they have lied about you." - -Thorne turned to her quickly. - -"Lied about me!" he exclaimed. "What do you mean?" - -He caught the girl's hands in his and bent over her. - -"Don't be angry," pleaded Edith, "I didn't think it would be like this." - -"Yes, yes, but what do you mean?" - -Edith sought to draw her hands away from him, but Thorne would not be -denied. - -"I must know," he said. - -"Let me go," pleaded the girl, "don't you understand----" - -But what she might have said further was interrupted by the sharp, stern -voice of the Corporal outside. He spoke loud and clearly, there was no -necessity for precaution now. - -"This way! Look out for that side, will you?" - -Thorne released the hands of the woman he loved and stood listening. -Edith Varney took advantage of such a diversion to dart through the -upper door, the nearer one, into the hall. - -"I don't want to be here now," she said, as she flew away. - -Thorne's hand went to his revolver which hung at his belt. He had not -time to draw it before the Corporal and the two men burst through the -door. There were evidently others outside. Thorne's hand fell away from -his revolver, and his position was one of charming nonchalance. - -"Out here!" cried the Corporal to one of the soldiers. "Look out there!" -pointing to the doorway through which the two men instantly disappeared. - -"What is it, Corporal?" asked Thorne composedly. - -The Corporal turned and saluted. - -"Prisoner, sir, broke out of Libby! We've run him down the street, and -he turned in here somewhere. If he comes in that way, would you be good -enough to let us know?" - -"Go on, Corporal," said Thorne coolly. "I'll look out for this window." - -He stepped down the long room toward the far window, drew the curtains, -and with his hand on his revolver, peered out into the trees beyond the -front of the house. - - - - - CHAPTER IX - - THE SHOT THAT KILLED - - -A glance through the window showed Captain Thorne that the yard beyond, -which had been empty all evening, was now full of armed men. The -Corporal had gone out through the hall door back of the house whence he -had entered. There was no doubt but that the back windows would be -equally well guarded. The house was surrounded, no escape was possible. -He was trapped, virtually a prisoner, although for the time being, they -had left him a certain liberty--the liberty of that one large room! It -was quite evident to him that he was the object of their suspicions, and -he more than feared that his real affiliations had been at last -discovered. - -Apparently, there would be no opportunity now in which he could carry -out his part in the cunningly devised scheme of attack. "_Plan 3_" would -inevitably result in failure, as so many previous plans had resulted, -because he would not be able to send the orders that would weaken the -position. The best he could hope for, in all probability, was the short -shrift of a spy. He had staked his life on the game and it appeared that -he had lost. - -Nay, more than life had been wagered, honour. He knew the contempt in -which the spy was held; he knew that even the gallantry and intrepidity -of André and Hale had not saved them from opprobrium and disgrace. - -And there was even more than honour upon the board. His love! Not the -remotest idea of succumbing to the attractions of Edith Varney ever -entered his head when he attempted the desperate, the fatal rôle. At -first he had regarded the Varney house and herself as a chessboard and a -pawn in the game. The strength of character which had enabled him to -assume the unenviable part he played, because of his country's need, for -his country's good, and which would have carried him through the obloquy -and scorn that were sure to be visited upon him--with death at the -end!--did not stand him in good stead when it came to thoughts of her. -Until he yielded to his passion, and broke his self-imposed vow of -silence, he had fought a good fight. Now he realised that the woman who -should accept his affections would compromise herself forever in the -eyes of everything she held dear, even if he succeeded and lived, which -was unlikely. - -He had never, so he fancied, in the least and remotest way given her any -evidence that he loved her. In reality, she had read him like an open -book, as women always do. He had come there that night to get the -message from Jonas, and then to bid her good-bye forever, without -disclosing the state of his affections. If he succeeded in manipulating -the telegraph and carrying out his end of the project, he could see no -chance of escape. Ultimate detection and execution appeared certain, and -any avowal would therefore be useless. But he had counted without her. -She had shown her feelings, and he had fallen. To the temptation of her -presence and her artless disclosure, he had not been able to make -adequate resistance. - -He was the last man on earth to blame her or to reproach her for that; -but the fierce, impetuous temperament of the man was overwhelming when -it once broke loose, and he felt that he must tell her or die. - -Because of his iron self-repression for so long he was the less able to -stand the pressure in the end. He had thrown everything to the winds, -and had told her how he loved her. - -Out there in the moonlight in the rose arbour, the scent of the flowers, -the southern night wind, the proximity of the girl, her eyes shining -like stars out of the shadows in which they stood, the pallor of her -face, the rise and fall of her bosom, the fluttering of her hand as -unwittingly or wittingly, who knows, she touched him, had intoxicated -him, and his love and passion had broken all bounds, and he had spoken -to her and she had answered. She loved him. What did that mean to him -now? - -Sometimes woman's love makes duty easy, sometimes it makes it hard. -Sometimes it is the crown which victors wear, and sometimes it is the -pall that overshadows defeat. - -What Edith Varney knew or suspected concerning him, he could not tell. -That she knew something, that she suspected something, had been evident, -but whatever her knowledge and suspicion, they were not sufficiently -powerful or telling to prevent her from returning love for love, kiss -for kiss. But did she love him in spite of her knowledge and suspicion? -The problem was too great for his solution then. - -These things passed through his mind as he stood there by the window, -with his hand on his revolver, waiting. It was all he could do. -Sometimes even to the most fiery and the most alert of soldiers comes -the conviction that there is nothing to do but wait. And if he thinks of -it, he will sympathise with the women who are left behind in times of -war, who have little to do but wait. - -The room had suddenly become his world, the walls his horizon, the -ceiling his sky. At any exit he would find the way barred. Why had they -left him in the room, free, armed, his revolver in his hand? - -None but the bravest would have entered upon such a career as he had -chosen. His nerves were like steel in the presence of danger. He had -trembled before the woman in the garden a moment since; the stone walls -of the house were no more rigidly composed than he in the drawing-room -now. It came to him that there was nothing left but one great battle in -that room unless they shot him from behind door or window or portière, -giving him no chance. If they did confront him openly he would show them -that if he had chosen the Secret Service and the life of a spy he could -fight and die like a man and a soldier. He held some lives within the -chamber of his revolver, and they should pay did they give him but a -chance. - -Indeed, they were already giving him a chance, he thought to himself as -he waited and listened. He was utterly unable to divine why he was at -liberty in the room, and why he was left alone, or what was toward. - -In the very midst of these crowding and tumultuous thoughts which ran -through his mind in far, far less time than it has taken to record them, -he heard a noise at the window at the farther side of the room, as if -some one fumbled at the catch. Instantly Thorne shrank back behind the -portières of the window he was guarding, not completely concealing -himself but sufficiently hid as to be unobserved except by careful -scrutiny in the dim light. Once more he clutched the butt of his -revolver swinging at his waist. He bent his body slightly, and even the -thought of Edith Varney passed from his mind. He stood ready, powerful, -concentrated, determined, confronting an almost certain enemy with the -fierce heart and envenomed glance of the fighter at bay. - -He had scarcely assumed this position when the window was opened, and a -man was thrust violently through into the room. At the first glance, -Thorne as yet unseen, recognised the newcomer as his elder brother, -Henry Dumont. Unlike the two famous brothers of the parable, these two -loved each other. - -Thorne's muscles relaxed, his hand still clutched the butt of his -revolver, he was still alert, but here was not an enemy. He began at -once to fathom something at least of the plan and the purpose of the -people who had trapped him. In a flash he perceived that his enemies -were not yet in possession of all the facts which would warrant them in -laying hands upon him. He was suspected, but the final evidence upon -which to turn suspicion into certainty was evidently lacking. He could -feel, although he could not see them, that every door and window had -eyes, solely for him, and that he was closely watched for some false -move which would betray him. The plan for which he had ventured so much -was still possible; he had not yet failed. His heart leaped in his -breast. The clouds around his horizon lifted a little. There was yet a -possibility that he could succeed, that he could carry out his part of -the cunningly devised and desperate undertaking, the series of events of -which this night and the telegraph office were to be the culmination. - -A less cautious and a less resourceful man might have evinced some -emotion, might have gone forward or spoken to the newcomer, would have -at least done something to have attracted his attention, but save for -that relaxation of the tension, which no one could by any possibility -observe, Thorne stood motionless, silent, waiting; just as he might have -stood and waited had he been what he seemed and had the newcomer been -utterly unknown and indifferent to him. - -His brother was dressed in the blue uniform of the United States; like -the others it had seen good service, but as Thorne glanced from his own -clothes to those of his brother, the blood came to his face, it was like -seeing his own flag again. For a fleeting moment he wished that he had -on his own rightful uniform himself and that he had never put it off for -anything; but duty is not made up of wishes, gratified or ungratified, -and the thought passed as he watched the other man. - -Henry Dumont had been thrust violently into the room by the soldiers -outside. He had been captured, as Arrelsford had said, earlier in the -day; he had allowed himself to be taken. He had been thrust into Libby -Prison with dozens of prisoners taken in the same sortie. He had not -been searched, but then none of the others had been; had he been -selected for that unwonted immunity alone it would have awakened his -suspicions, but the Confederates had made a show of great haste in -disposing of their prisoners, and had promised to search them in the -morning. Therefore, Henry Dumont had retained the paper which later he -had given Jonas, when by previous arrangement he made his daily visit to -the prison. - -He had been greatly surprised, when about a quarter to nine o'clock, a -squad of soldiers had taken him from the prison, had marched him -hurriedly through the streets with which he was entirely unfamiliar, and -had taken him to the residence section of the city, and had halted at -the back of a big house. He had asked no questions, and no explanations -had been vouchsafed to him. He was more surprised than ever when he was -taken up to the porch, the window was opened, and he was thrust -violently into a room, so violently that he staggered and had some -difficulty in recovering his balance. - -He made a quick inspection of the room. Thorne, in the deeper shadows at -the farther end of the room was invisible to him. He stood motionless -save for the turning of his head as he looked around him. He moved a few -steps toward the end of the room, opposite his entrance, passed by the -far door opening into the back hall which was covered with portières, -and went swiftly toward the near door into the front hall. The door was -slightly ajar, and as he came within range of the opening he saw in the -shadows of the hall, crossed bayonets and men. No escape that way! - -He went on past the door toward the large windows at the front of the -house and in another moment would have been at the front window where -Thorne stood. The latter dropped the curtain and stepped out into the -room. - -For the thousandth part of a second the two brothers stared at each -other, and then in a fiercely intense voice, Thorne, playing his part, -desperately called out: - -"Halt! You are a prisoner!" - -Both brothers were quick witted, both knew that they were under the -closest observation, both realised that they were expected to betray -relationship, which would incriminate both, and probably result fatally -for one and certainly ruin the plan. Thorne's cue was to regard his -brother as the prisoner whom it was important to arrest, and Dumont's -cue was to regard his brother as an enemy with whom it was his duty to -struggle. The minds of the two were made up instantly. With a quick -movement Dumont sought to pass his brother, but with a movement equally -as rapid, Thorne leaped upon him, shouting again: - -"Halt, I say!" - -The two men instantly grappled. It was no mimic struggle that they -engaged in, either. They were of about equal height and weight, if -anything Thorne was the stronger, but this advantage was offset by the -fact that he had been recently ill, and the two fought therefore on -equal terms at first. It was a fierce, desperate grapple in which they -met. As they struggled violently, both by a common impulse, reeled -toward that part of the room near the mantel which was farthest away -from doors or windows, and where they would be the least likely to be -overheard or to be more closely observed. As they fought together, -Thorne called out again: - -"Corporal of the Guard, here is your man! Corporal of the Guard, what -are you doing?" - -At that instant the two reeling bodies struck the wall next to the -mantel with a fearful smash, and a chair that stood by was overturned by -a quick movement on the part of Henry Dumont, who did not know his -brother had already received the important message. In the confusion of -the moment, he hissed in Thorne's ear: - -"_Attack to-night, plan 3, use telegraph!_ Did you get that?" - -"Yes," returned Thorne, still keeping up the struggle. - -"Good," said Dumont. "They are watching us. Shoot me in the leg." - -"No, I can't do it," whispered Thorne. - -All the while the two men were reeling and staggering and struggling -against the wall and furniture. The encounter would have deceived the -most suspicious. - -"Shoot, shoot," said the elder. - -"I can't shoot my own brother," the younger panted out. - -"It is the only way to throw them off the scent," persisted Dumont. - -"I won't do it," answered Thorne, and then he shouted again: - -"Corporal of the Guard, I have your prisoner!" - -"Let me go, damn you!" roared Dumont furiously, making another desperate -effort,--"if you don't do it, I will," he added under his breath. "Give -me the revolver!" - -"No, no, Harry," was the whispered reply, and "Surrender, curse you!" -the shouted answer. "You'll hurt yourself," he pleaded. - -"I don't care," muttered Dumont. "Let me have it." - -His hands slipped down from Thorne's shoulders and grasped the butt of -the revolver. The two grappled for it fiercely, but the struggle was -beginning to tell on Thorne, who was not yet in full possession of his -physical vitality. His long illness had sapped his strength. - -"Don't, don't, for God's sake!" he whispered, and then shouted -desperately, "Here's your man, Corporal, what's the matter with you?" - -"Give me that gun," said Dumont, and in spite of himself his voice rose -again. There was nothing suspicious in the words, it was what he might -have said had the battle been a real one; as he spoke by a more violent -effort he wrenched the weapon from the holster and away from Thorne's -detaining hand. The latter sought desperately to repossess himself of -it. - -[Illustration: "Look out, Harry!" he implored] - -"Look out, Harry! You'll hurt yourself," he implored, but the next -moment by a superhuman effort Dumont threw him back. As Thorne -staggered, Dumont turned the pistol on himself. Recovering himself with -incredible swiftness, Thorne leaped at his brother, and the two figures -went down together with a crash in the midst of which rang out the sharp -report of the heavy service weapon. Instead of shooting himself -harmlessly in the side, in the struggle Dumont had unfortunately shot -himself through the lung. - -Not at first comprehending exactly what had happened, Thorne rose to his -feet, took the revolver from the other's hand, and stood over the body -of his mortally wounded brother, the awful anguish of his heart in his -face. Fortunately, they were near the far end of the room, next the -wall, and no one could see the look in Thorne's eyes or the distortion -of his features in his horror. - -"Harry!" he whispered. "My God, you have shot yourself!" - -But Henry Dumont was past speaking. He simply smiled at his brother, and -closed his eyes. The next instant the room was filled with light and -sound. From every window and door people poured in; the soldiers from -the porches, from the hall, Mrs. Varney, Arrelsford and Edith; from the -other side of the hall a hubbub of screams and cries rose from behind -the locked door where the sewing women sat. Martha brought up the rear -with lights, which Arrelsford took from her and set on the table. The -room was again brightly illuminated. - -As they crowded through the various entrances, their eyes fell upon -Thorne. He was leaning nonchalantly against the table, his revolver in -his hand, a look of absolute indifference upon his face. His acting was -superb had they but known it. He could not betray himself now and make -vain his brother's sublime act of self-sacrifice for the cause. There -was a tumult of shouts and sudden cries: - -"Where is he? What has he done? This way now!" - -Most of those who entered had eyes only for the man lying upon the -floor, blood welling darkly through his grey shirt exposed by the -opening of his coat which had been torn apart in the struggle. Three -people had eyes only for Thorne, the man who hated him, the girl who -loved him, and the woman who suspected him. Between the soldiers and -these three stood the Corporal of the Guard, representing as it were, -the impartial law. - -Thorne did not glance once at the girl who loved him, or at the man who -hated him, or at the woman who suspected him. He fixed his eyes upon the -Corporal of the Guard. - -"There's your prisoner, Corporal," he said calmly, without a break in -his voice, although such anguish possessed him as he had never before -experienced and lived through, but his control was absolutely perfect. - -And his quiet words and quiet demeanour increased the hate of one man, -and the suspicions of one woman, and the love and admiration of the -other. - -"There's your prisoner," he said, slipping his revolver slowly back into -its holster. "We had a bit of a struggle and I had to shoot him. Look -out for him." - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - BOOK III - - WHAT HAPPENED AT TEN O'CLOCK - - - - - CHAPTER X - - CAROLINE MITFORD WRITES A DESPATCH - - -The War Department Telegraph Office had once been a handsome apartment, -one of those old-fashioned, heavily corniced, marble-manteled, -low-windowed, double-doored rooms in a public building. It was now in a -state of extreme dilapidation, the neglected and forlorn condition -somehow being significant of the moribund Confederacy in which -practically everything was either dead or dying but the men and women. - -A large double door in one corner gave entrance to a corridor. The doors -were of handsome mahogany, but they had been kicked and battered until -varnish and polish had both disappeared and they looked as dilapidated -as the cob-webbed corners and the broken mouldings. On the other side of -the room, three long French windows gave entrance to a shallow balcony -of cast iron fantastically moulded, which hung against the outer wall. -Beyond this the observer peering through the dusty panes could discern -the large white pillars of the huge porch which overhung the front of -the building. Further away beyond the shadow of the porch were visible -the lights of the sleeping town, seen dimly in the bright moonlight. - -The handsome furniture which the room had probably once contained, had -been long since displaced by the rude telegraph equipment and the heavy -plaster cornices and mouldings were sadly marred by telegraph wires -which ran down the walls to the tables, rough pine affairs, which -carried the instruments. There were two of these tables, each with a -telegraph key at either end. One of them stood near the centre of the -room, and the other some distance away was backed up against the fine -old marble mantel, chipped, battered, ruined like the rest of the room. -For the rest, the apartment contained a desk, shelves with the batteries -on them, and half a dozen chairs of the commonest and cheapest variety. -The floor was bare, dusty, and tobacco stained. The sole remnant of the -ancient glory of the room was a large handsome old clock on the wall -above the mantel, the hands of which pointed to the hour of ten. - -But if the room itself was in a dingy and even dirty condition, the -occupants were very much alive. One young man, Lieutenant Allison, sat -at the table under the clock, and another, Lieutenant Foray, at the -table in the centre of the room. Both were busy sending or receiving -messages. The instruments kept up a continuous clicking, heard -distinctly above the buzz of conversation which came from half a dozen -youngsters, scarcely more than boys, grouped together at the opposite -side of the room, waiting to take to the various offices of the -Department, or to the several officials of the government, the messages -which were constantly being handed out to them by the two military -operators. - -In the midst of this busy activity there came the noise of drums, -faintly at first, but presently growing clearer and louder, while the -tramp of many feet sounded in the street below. - -"What's that?" asked one messenger of the other. - -"I don't know," was the answer, "troops of some kind. I'll look out and -see." - -He stepped to one of the long windows, opened it, and went out on the -balcony. The other young fellows clustered at his back or peered through -the other windows. - -"It's the Richmond Greys," said the observer outside. - -There was an outburst of exclamations from the room, except from the -operators, who had no time to spare from their work. - -"Yes, that's what they are. You can see their uniforms. They must be -sending them down to the lines at Petersburg," said another. - -"Well, I don't believe they would send the Greys out unless there was -something going on to-night," observed a third. - -"To-night, why, good heavens, it's as quiet as a tomb," broke in a -fourth. "I don't hear a sound from the front." - -"That's probably what's worrying them. It is so damn unusual," returned -the first messenger. - -"Things have come to a pretty pass if the Grandfathers of the Home Guard -have got to go to the front," remarked another. - -"Following in the footsteps of their grandsons," said the first. "I wish -I could go. I hate this business of carrying telegrams and----" - -"Messenger here!" cried Lieutenant Foray, folding up a message and -inserting it in its envelope. - -The nearest youngster detached himself from the group while all of them -turned away from the windows, stepped to the side of the officer, and -saluted. - -"War Department," said Foray tersely. "Tell the Secretary it's from -General Lee, and here's a duplicate which you are to give to the -President." - -"Very good, sir," said the messenger, taking the message and turning -away. - -As he passed out of the door, an orderly entered the room, stepped to -the side of Lieutenant Foray, the senior of the two officers on duty, -clicked his heels together, and saluted. - -"Secretary's compliments, sir, and he wants to know if there is anything -from General Lee," he said. - -"My compliments to the Secretary," returned the Lieutenant. "I have just -sent a message to his office with a duplicate for the President." - -"The President's with the Cabinet yet, sir," returned the orderly. "He -didn't go home. The Secretary's there, too. They want an operator right -quick to take down some cipher telegrams." - -Lieutenant Foray looked over to his subordinate. - -"Got anything on, Charlie?" he called out. - -"Not right now," answered Lieutenant Allison. - -"Well, go over with the orderly to the Cabinet room and take down their -ciphers. Hurry back though," said Foray as Allison slipped on his -coat--both officers had been working in their shirt sleeves--"we need -you here. We are so short-handed in the office now that I don't know how -we are going to get through to-night. I can't handle four instruments, -and----" - -"I will do my best," said Allison, turning away rapidly. - -He bowed as he did so to a little party which at that moment entered the -room through the door, obstructing his passage. There were two very -spick and span young officers with Miss Caroline Mitford between them, -while just behind loomed the ponderous figure of old Martha. - -"You wait in the hall right here, Martha; I won't be long," said -Caroline, pausing a moment to let the others precede her. - -The two young men stopped on either side of the door and waited for her. - -"Miss Mitford," said the elder, "this is the Department Telegraph -Office." - -"Thank you," said Caroline, entering the room with only the briefest of -acknowledgments of the profound bows of her escorts. - -She was evidently very much agitated and troubled over what she was -about to attempt. The two young men followed her as she stepped down the -long room. - -"I am afraid you have gone back on the Army, Miss Mitford," said one of -them pleasantly. - -"Gone back on the Army, why?" asked Caroline mystified. - -"Seems like we should have a salute as you went by." - -"Oh, yes," said the girl. - -She raised her hand and saluted in a perfunctory and absent-minded -manner, then turned away from them. She nodded to the messengers, some -of whom she knew. One of them, who knew her best, stepped forward. - -"Good-evening, Miss Mitford, could we do anything in the office for you -to-night?" he asked. - -"Oh, yes,--you can. I want to send a--a telegram." - -The other of the young officers who had escorted her, who had remained -silent, now entered the conversation. - -"Have you been receiving some bad news, Miss Mitford?" he asked -sympathetically. - -"Oh, no." - -"Maybe some friend of yours has gone to the front, and----" interposed -the first officer. - -"Well, supposing he had," said Caroline, "would you call that bad news?" - -"I don't know as you would exactly like to----" - -"Let me tell you," said Caroline, "as you don't seem to know, that all -my friends have gone to the front." - -There was an emphasis on the pronoun which should have warned the young -soldier what was about to occur, but he rushed blindly to his doom. - -"I hope not all, Miss Mitford," he replied. - -"Yes, all," rejoined Caroline, making the "all" very emphatic, "for if -they did not they wouldn't be my friends." - -"But some of us are obliged to stay here to take care of you, you know," -contributed the other young man. - -"Well, there are altogether too many of you trying to take care of me," -said Caroline saucily, with some return of her usual lightness, "and you -are all discharged." - -"Do you mean that, Miss Mitford?" - -"I certainly do." - -"Well, I suppose if we are really discharged, we will have to go," -returned the other. - -"Yes," said his companion regretfully, "but we are mighty sorry to see -you in such low spirits." - -"Would you like to put me in real good spirits, you two?" asked -Caroline, resolved to read these young dandies who were staying at home -a lesson. - -"Wouldn't we!" they both cried together. "There's nothing we would like -better." - -"Well, I will tell you just what to do then," returned the girl gravely -and with deep meaning. - -Everybody in the room, with the exception of Lieutenant Foray, was now -listening intently. - -"Start right out this very night," said the girl, "and don't stop till -you get to where my real friends are, lying in trenches and ditches and -earth-works between us and the Yankee guns." - -"But really, Miss Mitford," began one, his face flushing at her severe -rebuke, "you don't absolutely mean that." - -"So far as we are concerned," said one of the messengers, including his -companions with a sweep of his hand, "we'd like nothing better, but they -won't let us go, and----" - -"I know they won't," said Caroline, "but so far as you two gentlemen are -concerned, I really mean it. Go and fight the Yankees a few days and lie -in ditches a few nights until those uniforms you've got on look as if -they might have been of some use to somebody. If you are so mighty -anxious to do something for me, that is what you can do. It is the only -thing I want, it is the only thing anybody wants." - -"Messenger here!" cried Lieutenant Foray as the two young officers, -humiliated beyond expression by the taunts of the impudent young maiden, -backed away and finally managed to make an ungraceful exit through the -open door, followed by the titters of the messengers, who took advantage -of the presence of the young girl to indulge in this grave breach of -discipline. - -"Messenger!" cried Foray impatiently. - -"Here, sir," came the answer. - -"Commissary General's office!" was the injunction with which Foray -handed the man the telegram. - -He looked up at the same time, and with a great start of surprise caught -sight of Caroline at the far end of the long room. - -"Lieutenant Foray," began the girl. - -"I beg your pardon, Miss Mitford," said the operator, scrambling to his -feet and making a frantic effort to get into his coat. "I heard some one -come in, but I was busy with an important message and didn't appreciate -that----" - -"No, never mind, don't put on your coat," said Caroline. "I came on -business, and----" - -"You want to send a telegram?" asked the Lieutenant. - -"Yes." - -"I am afraid we can't do anything for you here, Miss Mitford, this is -the War Department Official Telegraph Office, you know." - -"Yes, I know," said Caroline, "but it is the only way to send it where I -want it to go, and I----" - -At that moment the clicking of a key called Lieutenant Foray away. - -"Excuse me," he said, stepping quickly to his table. - -Miss Mitford, who had never before been in a telegraph office, was very -much mystified by the peremptory manner in which the officer had cut her -short, but she had nothing to do but wait. Presently the message was -transcribed, another messenger was called. - -"Over to the Department, quick as you can go. They are waiting for it," -said Foray. "Now, what was it you wanted me to do, Miss Mitford?" - -"Just to--to send a telegram," faltered Caroline. - -"It's private business, is it not?" said Foray. - -"Yes, it is strictly private." - -"Then you will have to get an order from----" - -"That is what I thought," said Caroline, "so here it is." - -"Why didn't you tell me before," returned Foray, taking the paper. -"Oh,--Major Selwin----" - -"Yes, he--he's one of my friends." - -"It's all right then," interposed the Lieutenant, who was naturally very -businesslike and peremptory. - -He pushed a chair to the other side of the table, placed a small sheet -of paper on the table in front of her, and shoved the pen and ink -conveniently to hand. - -"You can write there, Miss Mitford," he said. - -"Thank you," said Caroline, looking rather ruefully at the tiny piece of -paper which had been provided for her. - -Paper was a scarce article then, and every scrap was precious. She -decided that such a piece was not sufficient for her purposes, and when -Lieutenant Foray's back was turned she took a larger piece of paper of -sufficient capacity to contain her important message, to the composition -of which she proceeded with much difficulty and many pauses and sighs. - - - - - CHAPTER XI - - MR. ARRELSFORD AGAIN INTERPOSES - - -Nobody had any time to devote to Miss Mitford just then, for a perfect -rain of messages came and went as she slowly composed her own despatch. -Messengers constantly came in while others went out. The lines were -evidently busy that night. Finally there came a pause in the despatches -coming and going, and Foray remembering her, looked over toward the -other end of the table where she sat. - -"Is that message of yours ready yet, Miss Mitford?" he asked. - -"Yes," said Caroline, rising and folding it. "Of course you have got to -take it." - -"Certainly," returned the operator smiling. "If it's to be sent, I have -to send it." - -"Well, here it is then," said the girl, extending the folded paper which -Lieutenant Foray took and unceremoniously opened. - -"Oh!" exclaimed Caroline, quickly snatching the paper from his hand, "I -didn't tell you you could read it." - -Foray stared at her in amazement. - -"What do you want me to do with it?" - -"I want you to send it." - -"Well, how am I going to send it if I don't read it?" - -"Do you mean to say that----" began the girl, who had evidently -forgotten--if she had ever known--how telegrams were sent. - -"I mean to say that I have got to spell out every word on the key. -Didn't you know that?" - -"Oh, I did, of course--I--but I had forgotten," said Caroline, dismayed -by this unexpected development. - -"Is there any harm in my reading the message that I have to send?" - -"Why I wouldn't have you see it for the world! My gracious!" - -"Is it as bad as that, Miss Mitford?" he said laughing. - -"Bad! It isn't bad at all, but I wouldn't have it get all over town for -anything." - -"It will never get out of this office, Miss Mitford," returned Foray -composedly. "We are not allowed to mention anything that goes on in -here." - -"You wouldn't mention it?" - -"Certainly not. All sorts of private messages go through here, and----?" - -"Do they?" - -"Every day. Now if that telegram is important----?" - -"Important, well I should think it was. It is the most important----" - -"Then I reckon you had better trust it to me," said Lieutenant Foray. - -"Yes," said Caroline, blushing a vivid crimson, "I reckon I had." - -She handed him the telegram. He opened it, glanced at it, bit his lips -to control his emotion, and then his hands reached for the key. - -"Oh, stop!" cried Caroline. - -Foray looked at her, his eyes full of amusement, his whole body shaking -with suppressed laughter, which she was too wrought up to perceive. - -"Wait till--I--I don't want to be here while you spell out every word--I -couldn't stand that." - -Caroline had evidently forgotten that the spelling would be in the Morse -Code, and that it would be about as intelligible to her as Sanskrit. The -Lieutenant humoured her, and waited while Caroline turned toward the -door and summoned Martha to her. She did not leave the room, however, -for her way was barred by a young private in a grey uniform. The -newcomer looked hastily at her and the old negress, stopped by them, and -asked them very respectfully to wait a moment. He then approached Foray, -who was impatiently waiting until he could send the message. He saluted -him and handed him a written order, and then crossed to the other side -of the room. A glance put Foray in possession of the contents of this -order. He rose to his feet and approached Caroline still standing by the -door. - -"Miss Mitford," he said. - -"Yes." - -"I don't understand this, but here is an order that has just come from -the Secret Service Department directing me to hold up any despatch you -may try to send." - -"Hold back my telegram?" - -"Yes, Miss Mitford," and Foray looked very embarrassed as he stared -again at the order and then from the young girl to the orderly, "and -that isn't the worst of it." - -"What else is there!" asked the girl, her eyes big with apprehension. - -"Why, this man has orders to take back your message with him to the -Secret Service Office." - -"Take back my message!" cried Caroline. - -"There must be some mistake," answered Foray, "but that's what the order -says." - -"To whom does it say to take it back?" asked the girl, growing more and -more indignant. - -"To a Mr. Arrelsford." - -"Do you mean to tell me that that order is for that man to take my -despatch back to Mr. Arrelsford?" - -"Yes, Miss Mitford," returned Lieutenant Foray. - -"And does it say anything in there about what I am going to do in the -meantime?" asked the girl indignantly. - -"Nothing." - -"Well, that is too bad," returned Caroline ominously. - -"I am sorry this has occurred, Miss Mitford," said the Lieutenant -earnestly, "but the orders are signed by the head of the Secret Service -Department, and you will see that I have no choice----" - -"Don't worry about it, Lieutenant Foray," said Caroline calmly, "there -is no need of your feeling sorry, because it hasn't occurred, beside -that, it is not going to occur. When it does, you can go around being -sorry all you like. Have you the faintest idea that I am going to let -him take my telegram away with him and show it to the man? Do you -suppose----" - -She was too indignant to finish her sentence and old Martha valiantly -entered the fray. - -"No, suh," she cried, in her deepest and most indignant voice. "You all -ain't gwine to do it, you kin be right suah you ain't." - -"But what can I do?" persisted Foray, greatly distressed. - -"You can hand it back to me, that's what you can do." - -"Yes, suh, dat's de vehy best thing you kin do," said old Martha -stoutly, "an' de soonah you do it de quickah it'll be done--Ah kin tel -you dat right now, suh." - -"But this man has come here with orders for me to----" began Foray, -endeavouring to explain. - -He realised that there was some mistake somewhere. The girl's message -had nothing whatever to do with military matters, and he quite -understood that she would not want this communication read by every Tom, -Dick, or Harry in the Secret Service Department. Beside all this, as she -stood before him, her face flushed with emotion, she was a sufficiently -pretty, a sufficiently pleading figure to make him most anxious and most -willing to help her. In addition, the portly figure of old Martha, whose -cheeks doubtless would have been flushed with the same feeling had they -not been so black, were more than disconcerting. - -"This man," said Caroline, shaking her finger at helpless Private -Eddinger, who also found his position most unpleasant, "can go straight -back where he came from and report to Mr. Arrelsford that he could not -carry out his orders. That's what he can do." - -Martha, now thoroughly aroused to a sense of the role she was to play, -turned and confronted the abashed private. - -"Jes' let him try to tek it. Let him tek it if he wants it so pow'ful -bad! Jes let de othah one dere gib it to him--an' den see him try an' -git out thu dis yeah do' wid it! Ah wants to see him go by," she said. -"Ah'm jes waitin' fur de sight ob him gittin' pas' dis do'. Dat's what -Ah's waitin' fo'. Ah'd lak to know what dey s'pose it was Ah comed -around yeah fo' anyway--dese men wid dese ordahs afussin' an'----" - -"Miss Mitford," said Foray earnestly, "if I were to give this despatch -back to you it would get me in a heap of trouble." - -"What kind of trouble?" asked Caroline dubiously. - -"I might be put in prison, I might be shot." - -"Do you mean that they would----" - -"Sure to do one thing or another." - -"Just for giving it back to me when it is my message?" - -"Just for that." - -"Then you will have to keep it, I suppose," said Caroline faltering. - -"Thank you, Miss Mitford." - -"Very well," said Caroline, "it is understood. You don't give it back to -me, and you can't give it back to him, so nobody's disobeying any orders -at all. And that's the way it stands. I reckon I can stay as long as he -can." She stepped to a nearby chair and sat down. "I haven't very much -to do and probably he has." - -"But, Miss Mitford----" began Foray. - -"There isn't any good talking any longer. If you have got any -telegraphing to do, you had better do it. I won't disturb you. But don't -you give it to him." - -Foray stared at her helplessly. What might have resulted, it is -impossible to say, for there entered at that opportune moment, Mr. -Arrelsford himself, relieving Mr. Foray of the further conduct of the -intricate case. His glance took in all the occupants of the room. It was -to his own messenger that he first addressed himself. - -"Eddinger!" - -"Yes, Mr. Arrelsford." - -"Didn't you get here in time!" - -"Yes, sir." - -"Then why----" - -"I beg your pardon," said Foray, "are you Mr. Arrelsford of the Secret -Service Department?" - -"Yes. Are you holding back a despatch?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"Why didn't Eddinger bring it to me?" - -"Well, you see----" began Foray, hesitating, "Miss Mitford----" - -Arrelsford instantly comprehended. - -"Eddinger," he said. - -"Yes, sir." - -"Report back to Corporal Matson and tell him to send a surgeon to the -prisoner who was wounded at General Varney's house, if he isn't dead by -this time. Now let me see that despatch," he continued, as the orderly -saluted and ran rapidly from the room. - -But again Miss Mitford interposed. She stepped quickly between -Arrelsford and Foray, both of whom fell back from her. - -"I expect," she said impudently, "that you think you are going to get my -telegram and read it?" - -"I certainly intend to do so," was the curt answer. - -"Well, there's a great disappointment looming up in front of you," -returned Caroline defiantly. - -"So!" said Arrelsford, with growing suspicion. "You have been trying to -send out something that you don't want us to see." - -"What if I have, sir." - -"Just this," said Arrelsford determinedly. "You won't send it out and I -will see it. This is a case----" - -"This is a case where nobody is going to read my private writing," -persisted Caroline. - -The young girl confronted him with blazing eyes and a mien like a small -fury. Arrelsford looked at her with ill-concealed yet somewhat vexatious -amusement. - -"Lieutenant Foray, you have an order to give me that despatch. Bring it -to me at once," he said. - -Although it was quite evident that Foray greatly disliked the rôle he -was compelled to play, his orders were plain, he had no option. He -stepped slowly toward the Secret Service-Agent, only to be confronted by -old Martha, who again interrupted. - -"Dat Leftenant kin stay jes whah he is," said the old negress defiantly. - -A struggle with her would have been an unseemly spectacle indeed, -thought both men. - -"Is that Miss Mitford's despatch you have in your hand?" asked -Arrelsford. - -"Yes, sir." - -"Since you can't hand it to me, read it." - -Caroline turned to him with a gasp of horror. Martha gave way, and Foray -stood surprised. - -"Read it out! Don't you hear me?" repeated Arrelsford peremptorily. - -"Don't dare to do such a thing," cried Caroline, "you have no right to -read a private telegram." - -"No, suh! He ain't got no business to read her lettahs, none -whatsomebah!" urged Martha. - -"Silence!" roared Arrelsford, his patience at an end. "If either of you -interfere any further with the business of this office, I will have you -both put under arrest. Read that despatch instantly, Lieutenant Foray." - -The game was up so far as the women were concerned. Caroline's head sank -on Martha's shoulder and she sobbed passionately, while Lieutenant Foray -read the following astonishing and incriminating message. - -"'_Forgive me, Wilfred darling, please forgive me and I will help you -all I can._'" - -It was harmless, as harmless as it was foolish, that message, but it -evidently impressed Mr. Arrelsford as containing some deep, some hidden, -some sinister meaning. - -"That despatch can't go," he said shortly. - -"That despatch can go," said Caroline, stopping her sobbing as suddenly -as she had begun. "And that despatch will go. I know some one whose -orders even you are bound to respect, and some one who will come here -with me and see that you do it." - -"It may be," answered Arrelsford composedly. "I have a good and -sufficient reason----" - -"Then you will have to show him, I can tell you that, Mr. Arrelsford." - -"I shall be glad to give my reason to my superiors, Miss Mitford, not to -you." - -"Then you will have to go around giving them to everybody in Richmond, -Mr. Arrelsford," said the girl, as she swept petulantly through the -door, followed by old Martha, both of whom were very much disturbed by -what had occurred. - - - - - CHAPTER XII - - THORNE TAKES CHARGE OF THE TELEGRAPH OFFICE - - -Arrelsford stared after the departing figures with a mixture of -amusement, contempt, and annoyance in his glance. So soon as the door -had closed behind them he turned to Lieutenant Foray, who was regarding -him with ill-concealed aversion. - -"Let me have that despatch," he began in his usual peremptory manner. - -"You said you had an order, sir," returned Foray stubbornly. - -"Yes, yes," replied the Secret Service Agent impatiently, throwing an -order on the table, "there it is, don't waste time." - -But Lieutenant Foray was not satisfied, principally because he did not -wish to be. He scrutinised the order carefully, and with great distaste -at its contents. It was quite evident that if he could have found a -possible pretext for refusing obedience, he would gladly have done so. -His sympathies were entirely with Miss Mitford. - -"I suppose you are Mr. Benton Arrelsford, all right?" he began -deliberately, fingering the paper. - -"Certainly I am," returned Arrelsford haughtily. - -"We have to be very careful nowadays," continued Foray shortly. "But I -reckon it's all right. Here's the telegram." - -"Did the girl seem nervous or excited when she handed this in?" asked -the other, taking the message. - -"Do you mean Miss Mitford?" asked Foray reprovingly. - -"Certainly, who else?" - -"Yes, she did." - -"She was anxious not to have it seen by anybody?" - -"Anxious, I should say so. She didn't even want me to see it." - -"Umph!" said Arrelsford. "I don't mind telling you, Mr. Foray, that we -are on the track of a serious affair and I believe she's mixed up in -it." - -"But that despatch is to young Varney, a mere boy, the General's son," -urged the Lieutenant. - -"I didn't know he had gone to the front. So much the worse. It's one of -the ugliest affairs we have ever had. I had them put me on it, and I -have got it pretty close. We have had some checks but we will end it -right here in this office inside of thirty minutes." - -There was a slight tap on the door at this juncture. Arrelsford turned -to the door, opened it, and found himself face to face with a soldier, -who saluted and stood at attention. - -"Well, what is it?" - -"The lady's here, sir," said the soldier. - -"Where is she?" asked Arrelsford. - -"Waiting down below at the front entrance." - -"Did she come alone?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"Show her up here at once. I suppose you have a revolver here," -continued the Secret Service Man, turning to Lieutenant Foray, who had -listened with much interest. - -"Certainly," answered Foray, "we are always armed in the telegraph -office." - -From a drawer in the table he drew forth a revolver which he laid on the -top of the table. - -"Good," said Arrelsford, "while I want to handle this thing myself, I -may call you. Be ready, that's all." - -"Very well." - -"Obey any orders you may get, and send out all despatches unless I stop -you." - -"Yes, sir." - -"And if you don't mind, I don't care to have all these messenger boys -coming back here. I will order them to stop in the hall. If you have any -messages for them, you can take them out there. I don't want to have too -many people in the room." - -"Very good, sir. Will you give the order to your orderly when he brings -up the young lady?" - -"Yes." - -Arrelsford stepped to the door, and Foray busied himself with the -clicking instruments. After a few minutes' conversation with the -orderly, who had just returned, Arrelsford ushered Edith Varney into the -room. With not even a glance at the operator in her intense -preoccupation, the girl spoke directly to Arrelsford. - -"I--I've accepted your invitation, you see." - -"I am greatly obliged to you, Miss Varney," returned Arrelsford with -deferential courtesy. "As a matter of justice to me, it was----" - -"I didn't come to oblige you," answered Edith, haughtily. - -She had never liked Mr. Arrelsford. His addresses had been most -unpleasant and unwelcome to her, and now she not only hated him but she -loathed him. - -"I came here," she continued, as Arrelsford attempted to speak, "to see -that no more----" her voice broke for a moment, "murders are committed -here--to satisfy your singular curiosity." - -"Murders!" exclaimed Arrelsford, flushing deeply. - -The girl nodded. - -"The Union soldier who escaped from prison----" she began. - -"Is the man dead?" interrupted Arrelsford. - -"The man is dead." - -"It is a curious thing, Miss Varney," continued the other with cutting -emphasis, "that one Yankee prisoner more or less should make so much -difference to you, isn't it? They are dying down in Libby by the -hundreds." - -"At least they are not being killed in our houses, in our drawing-rooms, -before our very eyes!" - -She confronted Arrelsford with a bitterly reproachful glance, before -which his eyes for a moment fell, and he was glad indeed to turn to -another orderly who had just entered the room. - -"Have you kept track of him!" he asked in a low voice. - -"He's coming down the street to the Department now, sir." - -"Where has he been since he left Mrs. Varney's house?" - -"He went to his quarters on Gary Street. We got in the next room and -watched him through a transom." - -"What was he doing?" - -"Working on some papers or documents." - -"Could you see them? Did you see what they were?" - -"They looked like orders from the War Department, sir." - -"He is coming here with forged orders, I suppose." - -"I don't doubt it, sir." - -"I surmise that his game is to get control of these wires and then send -out despatches to the front that will take away a battery or a brigade -from some vital point, the vital point indicated by 'Plan 3.' That's -where they mean to attack to-night." - -"Looks like it, sir," agreed the orderly respectfully. - -"'Plan 3,' that's where they will hit us," mused the Secret Service -Agent. "Is there a guard in the building?" - -"Not inside, sir," answered the orderly, "there's a guard in front and -sentries around the barracks over in the square." - -"If I shouted, they could hear from this window, couldn't they?" asked -Arrelsford. - -"The guard in front could hear you, sir. But the time is getting short. -He must be nearly here, you'd better look out, sir." - -Edith Varney had heard enough of the conversation to understand that -Thorne was coming. Of course it would never do for him to see her there. - -"Where am I to go?" she asked. - -"Outside here on the balcony," said Arrelsford. "There is no closet in -the room and it is the only place. I will be with you in a moment." - -"But if he should come to the window?" - -"We will step in at the other window. Stay, orderly, see if the window -of the Commissary General's Office, the next room to the left, is open." - -They waited while the orderly went out on the balcony and made his -inspection. - -"The window of the next room is open, sir," he reported. - -"That's all I want of you. Report back to Corporal Matson. Tell him to -get the body of the prisoner out of the Varney house. He knows where -it's to go." - -"Very well, sir." - -"Mr. Foray," continued Arrelsford, "whoever comes here you are to keep -on with your work and don't give the slightest sign of my presence to -any one on any account. You understand?" - -"Yes, sir," said Foray from the telegraph table in the centre of the -room. - -He had caught something of the conversation, but he was too good a -soldier to ask any questions, beside his business was with the -telegraph, not with Mr. Arrelsford. - -"Now, Miss Varney," said the Secret Service Agent, "this way, please." - -He opened the middle window. The girl stepped through, and he was about -to follow when he caught sight of a messenger entering the room. Leaving -the window, he retraced his steps. - -"Where did you come from?" he said abruptly to the young man. - -"War Department, sir." - -"Carrying despatches'?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"You know me, don't you?" - -"I've seen you at the office, sir, and----" - -"I'm here on Department business," said Arrelsford. "All you have to do -is to keep quiet about it. Weren't you stopped in the hall?" - -"Yes, sir, but I had a despatch from the President that had to be -delivered to Lieutenant Foray." - -"Well, it is just as well," said Arrelsford. "Don't mention having seen -me to anybody under any pretext and stay here. You might be needed. On -second thoughts, Foray, let any messenger come in." - -With that Mr. Arrelsford stepped out onto the balcony through the window -which he closed after him, and he and Edith disappeared from view. - -"Messenger," said Foray, "step down the hall and tell the private there -that by Mr. Arrelsford's orders, messengers are allowed to come up as -they report." - -The room which had been the scene of these various colloquies became -silent save for the continuous clicking of the telegraph keys. Presently -two messengers came back and took their positions as before. - -Hard on their heels entered Captain Thorne. He was in uniform, of -course, and a paper was tucked in his belt. He walked rapidly down the -room, acknowledged the salutes of the messengers, and stopped before the -table. His quick scrutiny of the room as he advanced had shown him that -there was no one present except the messengers and Lieutenant Foray. -Foray glanced up, nodded, finished taking the despatch which was on the -wires at the time, wrote it out, put it in its envelope, and then rose -to his feet and saluted. - -"Captain Thorne," he said. - -"Lieutenant Foray," replied Thorne, taking the order from his belt and -handing it to the operator. - -"Order from the Department?" asked Foray. - -"I believe so," answered Thorne briefly. - -Lieutenant Foray opened it and read it. - -"They want me to take a cipher despatch over to the President's house," -he said as he finished. - -"Yes," said Thorne, moving to the vacant place at the table. He pulled -the chair back a little, tossed his hat on the other table, and -otherwise made himself at home. - -"I am ordered to stay here until you get back," he began casually, -shoving the paper aside and stretching his hand toward the key. - -"That's an odd thing, Captain," began Lieutenant Foray dubiously. "I -understood that the President was meeting with the Cabinet. In fact, -Lieutenant Allison went over there to take some code work a moment ago. -He must have gone home, I reckon." - -"Looks like it," said Thorne quietly. "If he is not at home you had -better wait." - -"Yes," said Foray, moving away, "I suppose I had better wait for him. -You will have to look out for Allison's wire though on the other table. -He was called over to the Department." - -"Oh, Allison!" said Thorne carelessly. "Be gone long, do you think?" he -continued as he seated himself at the table and began to arrange the -papers. - -"Well, you know how it is. They generally whip around quite a while -before they make up their minds what they want to do. I don't suppose -they will trouble you much. It's as quiet as a church down the river. -Good-night." - -"See here, Mr. Foray, wait a moment. You had better not walk out and -leave--no matter," continued Thorne, as the operator stopped and turned -back. "It's none of my business, still if you want some good advice, -that is a dangerous thing to do." - -"What is it, Captain?" asked Foray, somewhat surprised. - -"Leave a cigar lying around an office like that. Somebody might walk in -any minute and take it away. I can't watch your cigars all day." - -He picked up the cigar, and before Foray could prevent it, lighted it -and began to smoke. Foray laughed. - -"Help yourself, Captain, and if there is any trouble you will find a -revolver on the table." - -"I see," said Thorne, "but what makes you think there is going to be -trouble?" - -"Oh, well there might be." - -"Been having a bad dream?" asked the Captain nonchalantly. - -"No, but you never can tell. All sorts of things are liable to happen in -an office like this, and----." - -"That's right," said Thorne, puffing away at his cigar, "you never can -tell. But see here. If you never can tell when you are going to have -trouble you had better take that gun along with you. I have one of my -own." - -"Well," said the operator, "if you have one of your own, I might as -well." - -He took the revolver up and tucked it in his belt. "Look out for -yourself, Captain. Good-bye. I will be back as soon as the President -gives me that despatch. That despatch I have just finished is for the -Commissary General's Office, but it can wait until the morning." - -"All right," said Thorne, and the next moment the operator turned away -while the clicking of the key called Thorne to the table. It took him -but a few minutes to write the brief message which he addressed and -turned to the first messenger, "Quartermaster General." - -"He wasn't in his office a short time ago, sir," said the messenger. - -"Very well, find him. He has probably gone home and he has to have this -message." - -"Very good, sir." - -The key kept up its clicking. In a short time another message was -written off. - -"Ready here," cried Thorne, looking at the other messenger. "This is for -the Secretary of the Treasury, marked private. Take it to his home." - -"He was down at the Cabinet meeting a little while ago, sir," said the -second messenger. - -"No difference, take it to his house and wait until he comes." - -The instant the departing messenger left him alone in the room, Thorne -leaped to his feet and ran with cat-like swiftness to the door, opened -it, and quickly but carefully examined the corridor to make sure that no -one was there on duty. Then he closed the door and turned to the nearest -window, which he opened also, and looked out on the balcony, which he -saw was empty. He closed the window and came back to the table, -unbuckling his belt and coat as he came. These he threw on the table. -The coat fell back, and he glanced in the breast pocket to see that a -certain document was in sight and at hand, where he could get it -quickly. Then he took his revolver, which he had previously slipped from -his belt to his hip pocket, and laid it down beside the instrument. - -After a final glance around him to see that he was still alone and -unobserved, he seized the key on which he sounded a certain call. An -expert telegrapher would have recognised it, a dash, four dots in rapid -succession, then two dots together, and then two more (--.... .. ..). He -waited a few moments, and when no answer came he signalled the call a -second time, and after another longer wait he sent it a third time. - -After this effort he made a longer pause, and just as he had about -reached the end of his patience--he was in a fever of anxiety, for upon -what happened in the next moment the failure or the success of the whole -plan absolutely turned--the silent key clicked out an answer, repeating -the same signal which he himself had made. The next moment he made a -leap upon the key, but before he could send a single letter steps were -heard outside in the corridor. - -Thorne released the key, leaned back in his chair, seized a match from -the little holder on the table and struck it, and when another messenger -entered he seemed to be lazily lighting his cigar. He cursed in his -heart at the inopportune arrival. Another uninterrupted moment and he -would have sent the order, but as usual he gave no outward evidence of -his extreme annoyance. The messenger came rapidly down toward the table -and handed Captain Thorne a message. - -"From the Secretary of War, Captain Thorne," he said saluting, "and he -wants it to go out right away." - -"Here, here," said Thorne, as the messenger turned away, "what's all -this?" He ran his fingers through the envelope, tore it open, and spread -out the despatch. "Is that the Secretary's signature?" he asked. - -The messenger came back. - -"Yes, sir; I saw him sign it myself. I'm his personal messenger." - -"Oh!" said Thorne, spreading the despatch out on the table and O.K.'ing -it, "you saw him sign it yourself, did you?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"Very well. We have to be pretty careful to-night," he explained, "there -is something on. You are sure of this, are you?" - -"I could swear to that signature anywhere, sir," said the messenger. - -"Very well," said Thorne, "you may go." - - - - - CHAPTER XIII - - THE TABLES ARE TURNED - - -As soon as the door was closed behind the messenger Thorne laid his -cigar down on the table. Then he picked up the despatch from the -Secretary of War which the messenger had just brought in, and folded it -very dexterously. Then with a pair of scissors which he found in a -drawer he cut off the lower part of the Secretary's despatch containing -his signature. He put this between his teeth and tore the rest into -pieces. He started to throw the pieces into the waste basket but after a -moment's reflection he stuffed them into his trouser pocket. Then he -picked up his coat from the back of the chair and took from the inside -breast pocket another document written on the same paper as that which -had just come from the Secretary of War. Spreading this out on the table -he cut off the signature and quickly pasted to it the piece of the real -order bearing the real signature. He carefully wiped this pasted -despatch with his handkerchief, making an exceedingly neat job of it. - -As he did so, he smiled slightly. Fortune, which had dealt him so many -rebuffs had evened up matters a little by giving him this opportunity. -He had now in his possession a despatch bearing the genuine signature of -the Secretary of War. Even if he were interrupted the chances were he -would still be able to send it. So soon as he had doctored the despatch, -he sat down at the instrument and once more essayed to send the message. - -Now during all this rapid bit of manipulation Thorne had been under -close observation, for Arrelsford and Edith Varney had come from the -Commissary General's Office, where they had concealed themselves while -Thorne examined the porch, and had stepped back to the nearest window -and were intently watching. Fortunately, his back partially concealed -his actions and the watchers could not tell exactly what he had done, -although it was quite evident that he was in some way altering some kind -of a despatch. - -Just as Thorne began to send the message, Arrelsford accidentally struck -the window with his elbow, making a slight sound. The instant he did so, -he and the girl vanished from sight. Once again Thorne released the key, -and his hand moved quietly but rapidly from the instrument to the -revolver. The instant it was in his hand he sprang to his feet, whirled -about, leaped to the gas bracket and turned off the light. The room was -left in darkness, save for the faint illumination of the moonlight -through the windows. - -Immediately he turned off the light he ran to the doors leading into the -hall. They were provided with heavy old-fashioned bolts which he shot -swiftly, locking them on the inside. Then with the utmost caution he -edged around the wall until he came to the first window. He waited with -his left hand on the catch of the window, and with his right advanced -his revolver. After a moment's pause he threw it open quickly and -stepped out on the balcony. It was empty as before. - -He must have made a mistake, he thought, since no one was there, and he -blamed the whole incident to his over-agitated nerves. Indeed what he -had gone through in the preceding two hours would have shaken any man's -nerves, might have broken most men's. He was annoyed at having wasted -precious time, and turned to the table again, stopping on his way to -relight the light. - -Once more he seized the key. He could telegraph equally well with either -hand. He did not lay down his revolver on the table this time, but kept -it in his right hand while the fingers of his left hand touched the -button. He had scarcely made a dot or a dash when there was a sudden -flash of light and the sound of an explosion, that of a heavy revolver, -mingled with the crash of shattered glass. Captain Thorne's fingers fell -from the key and a jet of blood spurted out upon the table and the -papers. - -He rose to his feet with incredible swiftness, his revolver in his right -hand, only to be confronted by Arrelsford at the front window. The -latter held in his hand, pointed fairly and squarely at Thorne, the -heavy service revolver with which he had just shot him in the left -wrist. Thorne made a swift motion with his right hand but Arrelsford was -too quick for him. - -"Drop that gun!" he shouted. "Drop it quick, or you are a dead man!" - -There was no possibility of disobedience. Thorne straightened up and -laid his revolver on the table. The two confronted each other, and if -looks could have killed they had both been dead men. The soldier -shrugged his shoulders at last, took his handkerchief out of his pocket, -put one end of it between his teeth, and with the other hand wrapped it -tightly around his wounded wrist. - -The civilian meantime advanced toward him, keeping him covered all the -time with his revolver. - -"Do you know why I didn't kill you like the dog you are, just now?" he -asked truculently, as he drew nearer. - -"Because you are such a damned bad shot, I suppose," coolly answered -Thorne between his teeth, still tying the bandage, after which he calmly -picked up his cigar and began smoking again with the utmost -indifference. - -Whatever fate had in store for him could better be met, he thought -swiftly at this juncture, provided he kept his temper, and so he spoke -as nonchalantly as before. Indeed his manner had always been most -irritating and exacerbating to Arrelsford. - -"Maybe you will change your mind about that later on," the latter -rejoined. - -"Well, I hope so," said Thorne, completing his bandage and tying the -knot so as to leave the fingers of his left hand free. "You see, it -isn't pleasant to be riddled up this way." - -"Next time you'll be riddled somewhere else beside the wrist. There's -only one reason why you are not lying there now with a bullet through -your head." - -"Only one?" queried Thorne. - -"Only one." - -"Do I hear it?" - -"You do. I gave my word of honour to some one outside that I wouldn't -kill you, and----" - -"Oh, then this isn't a little tête-à-tête just between ourselves. You -have some one with you?" asked Thorne, interested greatly in this new -development, wondering who the some one was who had interfered in his -behalf. Perhaps that evident friendship might be turned to account later -on. For a moment not an idea of who was there entered Thorne's mind. - -"Yes, I have some one with me, Captain Thorne, who takes quite an -interest in what you are doing to-night," returned Arrelsford -sneeringly. - -"That is very kind, I am sure. Is the--er--gentleman going to stay out -there all alone on the balcony or shall I have the pleasure of inviting -him in here and having a charming little three-handed----" - -The third party answered the question, for Edith Varney came through the -window with the shattered pane through which Arrelsford had fired and -entered. Thorne was shocked beyond measure by her arrival, not the -slightest suspicion that she could have been there had crossed his mind. -So she had been an eye witness to his treachery. He had faced -Arrelsford's pistol with the utmost composure, there was something in -Edith Varney's look that cut him to the heart, yet she did not look at -him either. On the contrary, she carefully avoided his glance. Instead -she turned to Arrelsford. - -"I think I will go, Mr. Arrelsford," she said in a low, choked voice. - -"Not yet, Miss Varney," he said peremptorily. - -The girl gave him no heed. She turned and walked blindly toward the -door. - -"I don't wish, to stay here any longer," she faltered. - -"One moment, please," said Arrelsford, as she stopped, "we need you." - -"For what?" - -"As a witness." - -"You can send for me if you need me, I will be at home." - -"I am sorry," said Arrelsford, again interposing, "I will have to detain -you until I turn him over to the guard. It won't take long." - -The middle window was open and he stepped to it, still keeping an eye on -Thorne, and shouted at the top of his voice: - -"Call the guard! Corporal of the Guard! Send up the guard to the -telegraph office!" - -The note of triumph in his voice was unmistakable. From the street the -three inside heard a faint cry: - -"What's the matter? Who calls the guard?" - -"Up here in the telegraph office," said Arrelsford, "send them up -quick." - -The answer was evident sufficient, for they could hear the orders and -the tumult in the square below. - -"Corporal of the Guard, Post Four! Fall in the guard! Fall in! Lively, -men!" and so on. - -The game appeared to be up this time. Mr. Arrelsford held all the -winning cards, thought Thorne, and he was playing them skilfully. He -ground his teeth at the thought that another moment and the order would -have been sent probably beyond recall. Fate had played him a scurvy -trick, it had thwarted him at the last move, and Arrelsford had so -contrived that his treachery had been before the woman he loved. Under -other circumstances the wound in his wrist would have given him -exquisite pain, as it was he scarcely realised at the time that he had -been hurt. - -Arrelsford still stood by the window, glancing out on the square but -keeping Thorne under close observation. The evil look in his eyes and -the malicious sneer on his lips well seconded the expression of triumph -in his face. He had the man he hated where he wanted him. It was a -splendid piece of work that he had performed, and in the performance he -sated his private vengeance and carried out his public duty. - -On his part, Thorne was absolutely helpless. There was that in the -bearing of the woman he loved that prevented him from approaching her. -He shot a mute look of appeal to her which she received with marble -face, apparently absolutely indifferent to his presence, yet she was -suffering scarcely less than he. In her anguish she turned desperately -to Arrelsford. - -"I am not going to stay," she said decisively, "I don't wish to be a -witness." - -"Whatever your feelings may be, Miss Varney," persisted Arrelsford, "I -can't permit you to refuse." - -"If you won't take me downstairs, I will find the way myself," returned -the girl as if she had not heard. - -She turned resolutely toward the door. Before she reached it the heavy -tramping of the guard was heard. - -"Too late," said Arrelsford triumphantly, "you can't go now, the guard -is here." - -Edith could hear the approaching soldiers as well as anybody. The way -was barred, she realised instantly. Well, if she could not escape, at -least she could get out of sight. She turned and opened the nearest -window and stepped out. Arrelsford knew that she could not go far, and -that he could produce her whenever he wanted her. He made no objection -to her departure that way, therefore. Instead he looked at Thorne. - -"I have you just where I want you at last," he said mockingly, as the -trampling feet came nearer. "You thought you were mighty smart, but you -will find that I can match your trick every time." - -Outside in the hall the men came to a sudden halt before the door. One -of them knocked loudly upon it. - -"What's the matter here?" cried the Sergeant of the Guard without. - -The handle was tried and the door was shoved violently, but the brass -bolt held. - -"Let us in!" he cried angrily. - -Quick as a flash of lightning an idea came to Thorne. - -"Sergeant!" he shouted in a powerful voice. "Sergeant of the Guard!" - -"Sir!" - -"Break down the door! Break it down with your musket butts!" - -As the butts of the muskets pounded against the heavy mahogany panels, -Arrelsford cried out in great surprise: - -"What did you say?" - -In his astonishment, he did not notice a swift movement Thorne made -toward the door. - -"You want them in, don't you?" the soldier said, as he approached the -door. "It is locked and----" - -But Arrelsford recovered himself a little and again presented his -revolver. - -"Stand where you are," he cried, but Thorne by this time had reached the -door. - -"Smash it down, Sergeant!" he cried. "What are you waiting for! Batter -it down!" - -The next moment the door gave way with a crash, and into the room poured -the guard. The grizzled old Sergeant had scarcely stepped inside the -room when Thorne shouted in tones of the fiercest authority, pointing at -Arrelsford: - -"Arrest that man!" - -Before the dazed Secret Service Agent could say a word or press the -trigger the soldiers were upon him. - -"He got in here with a revolver," continued Thorne more quietly, "and is -playing hell with it. Hold him fast!" - - - - - CHAPTER XIV - - THE CALL OF THE KEY - - -This astonishing dénouement fairly paralysed Arrelsford. With a daring -and ability for which he had not given Thorne credit, and which was -totally unexpected, although what he had learned of his previous career -might have given him some warning, the tables had been turned upon him -by a man whom he confidently fancied he had entrapped beyond possibility -of escape! - -His amazement held him speechless for a moment, but his natural -resourcefulness came back to him with his returning presence of mind. He -knew the futility of an attempt to struggle with his captors, he -therefore decided to try to reason with them. - -"Sergeant," he began, quietly enough, "my orders are----" - -But Thorne would not let him continue. Having gained the advantage he -was determined to keep it to the end and for that purpose he followed up -his first blow, ruthlessly pressing his charge hard. - -"Damn your orders!" he interrupted furiously. "You haven't got orders to -shoot up everybody you see in this office, have you?" - -This was too much for Arrelsford, and he made a desperate plunge forward -to get at Thorne, who shook his wounded wrist in the Secret Service -Agent's face. The soldiers held him tightly, however, and Thorne -continued hotly: - -"Get his gun away, Sergeant; he'll hurt somebody." - -While the soldiers--who appeared to entertain no doubt and to have no -hesitancy whatever about obeying Thorne's orders, the latter evidently -the military man of the two and his voice and bearing, to say nothing of -his uniform, telling heavily against a civilian like Arrelsford--were -taking the revolver out of his hands, Thorne once more turned to the -telegraph table. His blood was up and he would send the despatch now -before the whole assemblage, before the Confederate Government or its -Army, if necessary. - -Arrelsford burst out in a last vain attempt to stop him: - -"Listen to me, Sergeant," he pleaded desperately, "he is going to send -out a false telegram and----" - -"That'll do," gruffly said the Sergeant of the Guard, shaking his fist -in Arrelsford's face, "what is it all about, Captain!" - -"All about? I haven't the slightest idea. He says he comes from some -office or other. I was sending off some important official despatches -here and he began by letting off his gun at me. Crazy lunatic, I think." - -"It's a lie!" said Arrelsford furiously. "Let me speak--I -will--prove----" - -"Here!" said the Sergeant of the Guard, "that'll do now. What shall I do -with him, Captain?" - -"I don't care a damn what you do with him. Get him out of here, that's -all I want." - -"Very well, sir. Are you much hurt?" - -"Oh, no. He did up one hand, but I can get along with the other all -right," said Thorne, sitting down at the table and seizing the key. - -"Stop him!" cried Arrelsford, fully divining that Thorne intended to -send the message. "He's sending a--wait!" A thought came to him. "Ask -Miss Varney, she saw him,--ask Miss Varney." - -But the old Sergeant of the Guard paid no attention whatever to his -frantic appeals. - -"Here, fall in there!" he said. "We'll get him out, Captain. Have you -got him, men? Forward then!" - -Struggling furiously the squad of soldiers forced Arrelsford to the -door. Thorne paid absolutely no attention to them; he had forgotten -their presence. Like his attention, his mind and heart were on the key -again. But he was fated to meet with still another interruption. - -"Halt there!" cried a sharp voice from the hall, just as the group -reached the door. - -"Halt! Left Face!" cried the Sergeant in turn, recognising that here was -a superior whom it were well to obey without question or hesitation. - -"Here is General Randolph," said the voice outside, giving the name of -one of the high officers of the Richmond Garrison. - -"Present arms!" cried the Sergeant of the Guard as General Randolph -appeared in the doorway. - -Following him were some officers of his staff and by his side was the -imposing figure of Miss Caroline Mitford. The humiliation and -indignation had vanished from her bearing which was one of unmitigated -triumph. She threw a glance at Arrelsford which bode ill for that young -man. The General entered the room and stopped before the Secret Service -Agent, who stood in front of the guard, although he had been released by -the men. - -"What's all this about?" he asked peremptorily. - -Although he knew that something important was transpiring, and that the -newcomer was a man of rank, Thorne never turned his head. At whatever -cost, he realised he must get the telegram off, and from the look of -things it appeared that his only chance was then and there. He did not -care if the President of the Confederate States of America were there in -person, his mind and soul were on the order. He was frantically calling -the station he wanted, the one indicated by "Plan 3," and he had the -doctored despatch, to which he had pasted the Secretary's signature -spread out on the table before him. - -"What's all this about refusing to send out Miss Mitford's telegram!" -began General Randolph peremptorily. "Some of your work, I understand, -Mr. Arrelsford." - -"General!" cried Arrelsford breathlessly. "They have arrested me. It is -a conspiracy----" He turned toward Thorne. "Stop that man, for God's -sake stop him before it's too late!" - -At this juncture, Caroline Mitford turned from the room and joined old -Martha in the hall, and disappeared. She had only come back with the -General to punish Arrelsford, but she did not care to have her precious -despatch made the subject of discussion before so many people. - -"Stop him!" exclaimed the General. "What do you mean?" - -It was evident that the despatch was not to go out then. Thorne had not -succeeded in getting an answer to his signal. He left the key, rose, and -saluted. - -"He means me, sir," he said. "He's got an idea some despatch I'm sending -out is a trick of the Yankees." - -"It is a conspiracy!" cried Arrelsford. "He is an impostor----" - -"Why, the man must have gone crazy, General," said Thorne coolly, -holding his position by the table and listening with all his ears for -the return signal. - -"I came here on a case for----" expostulated Arrelsford. - -"Wait!" said General Randolph. "I will soon get at the bottom of this. -What was he doing when you came in, Sergeant?" he asked of the -non-commissioned officer in charge of the guard. - -"He was firing on the Captain, sir," answered the Sergeant saluting. - -"He was sending out a false order to weaken our lines at Cemetery Hill, -and I--ah--Miss Varney, she was here. She saw it all," explained -Arrelsford. - -"Miss Varney!" exclaimed the General. - -"Yes, sir." - -"The General's daughter?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"And what was she doing here?" - -"She came to see for herself whether this man was guilty or not; whether -he was a spy or a traitor." - -"Is this some personal matter of yours, Mr. Arrelsford?" asked the -General suspiciously. - -"He was a visitor at her house and I wanted her to know." - -"Where is she now? Where is Miss Varney?" asked Randolph impatiently. - -"She must be out there on the balcony," answered Arrelsford. "I beg you -to send for her, sir." - -"Sergeant," said General Randolph, "step out on the balcony. Present my -compliments to Miss Varney, and ask her to come in at once." - -In a moment the Sergeant returned. - -"There is no one there, sir," he replied saluting. - -At that instant Thorne got the long desired signal. Without a moment's -hesitation, he turned to the key. He picked up the despatch with his -wounded left hand and with the other began to manipulate the sounder. - -"She must be there," said Arrelsford, "or else she's stepped into the -next room, the Commissary General's Office, the window was open, tell -him to--ah!" as the sound of the clicking caught his ear, "Stop him! He -is sending it now!" - -Mr. Arrelsford's distress was so overwhelming and so genuine that -something of the man's suspicion was communicated to the General. - -"One moment, Captain," he said. - -Captain Thorne, of course, had no option but to release the key. He -stopped sending and dropped the despatch, saluting. - -"Now, Mr. Arrelsford," said the General, "what have you to do with the -Military Telegraph Department?" - -"This is a Secret Service case; they assigned it to me, sir." - -"What is a Secret Service case?" - -"The whole plot to send the order. It's the Yankee Secret Service. He is -a member of it and his brother brought in the signal to-night." - -"I beg your pardon, sir," said Thorne, "this despatch ought to go out at -once, sir. It came from the Secretary of War and it is very urgent." - -"Go ahead with it," said General Randolph. - -Thorne needed no further permission than that, dropped to his seat, and -once more seized the fatal key. - -"No, no!" cried Arrelsford. "Don't let him--I tell you it's a----" - -"Silence, sir," thundered Randolph. - -"Do you know what he is telling them?" persisted Arrelsford. - -"No, do you?" - -"Yes," returned the Secret Service Agent. - -"Wait a moment, Captain Thorne," said the General, impressed in spite of -himself by this man's earnestness, which made him disregard all orders, -commands, and everything else. "Where is the despatch?" - -Captain Thorne picked up the paper and handed it to the General, and -then stepped back. He had played his last card. He played it -desperately, boldly, and well. - -"Well?" asked the General, looking from the despatch to the accuser, -"what has he been telling them?" - -"He began to give an order to withdraw Marston's Division from its -present position," said Arrelsford, making a brilliant and successful -guess at the probable point of attack in "Plan 3." - -"That is perfectly correct," said General Randolph, looking at the -paper. - -"Yes, by that despatch, but that despatch is a forgery. It is an order -to withdraw a whole division from a vital point. A false order, he wrote -it himself. This is the turning point of the whole plot." - -"But why should he write it himself? If he wanted to send a false order, -he could send it without putting it down on paper, couldn't he?" - -"Yes," admitted Arrelsford, but he went on with great acuteness, "if any -of the operators came back they would catch him doing it. With that -order and the Secretary's signature he could go right on. He could even -order one of them to send it." - -"And pray how did he get the Secretary's signature to a forged -telegram?" asked General Randolph. - -"He tore it off a genuine despatch. Why, General, look at that despatch -in your hand yourself. The Secretary's signature is pasted on, I saw him -do it." - -"They often come that way, sir," said Thorne nonchalantly. - -"He is a liar!" cried Arrelsford. "They never do!" - -Thorne stepped forward impulsively, his face flushed at the word "liar," -but he controlled himself. - -"General," he said, "if you have any doubt about that despatch, send it -back to the War Office and have it verified." - -It was a splendid, magnificent bluff. So overwhelming in its assurance -that even Arrelsford himself was petrified with astonishment. He was -morally certain that Thorne was a Federal Secret Service Agent and that -the despatch was a forgery, yet it would take but a few minutes to send -it over to the Secretary's office and convict him out of his own mouth. -What could the man mean! - -"That's a good idea," said General Randolph. He hesitated a moment and -then turned to the guard. "Sergeant," he said, "take this despatch over -to the Secretary's office and----" - -At that moment, the key which had been silent began a lively clicking. -General Randolph turned toward it, and Thorne made a quick step in the -same direction. - -"What's that?" asked the General. - -Thorne stood by the desk listening while the key clicked out the -message. - -"Adjutant General Chesney," he spelt out slowly. - -"Oh, from the front, then?" said Randolph. - -"Yes, sir," answered Thorne. - -"What is he saying!" - -Thorne stepped to the table and bent over the clicking key. "His -compliments, sir," he read off slowly. "He asks"--waiting for a few -minutes--"for the rest,"--still another pause--"of that despatch--he -says it's of vital importance, sir, and----" - -The communication which Thorne had made to General Randolph was in -itself of vital importance. The General was too good a soldier not to -know the danger of delay in the carrying out of a military manoeuvre -which was probably part of some general plan of attack or defence to -which he was not privy. He made up his mind instantly. He took the -despatch from the hand of the Sergeant and turned it over to Thorne -again. - -"Let him have it," he said decisively. - -The Captain with his heart pounding like mad sat down at the table and -seized the key. Was he going to complete the despatch? Was the plan to -be carried out? Had he triumphed in the bold and desperately played game -by his splendid courage, resourcefulness, and assurance? His eyes shone, -the colour came back into his pale cheeks as his hands trembled on the -key. - -"General!" cried Arrelsford, "if you----" - -"That's enough, sir. We will have you examined at headquarters." - -At that instant Lieutenant Foray came rapidly into the room. - -"Thank God!" cried Arrelsford, as he caught sight of him. "There's a -witness, he was sent away on a forged order, ask him?" - -Another interruption, thought Thorne, desperately fingering the keys. If -they would only give him a minute more he could complete the order, but -he was not to have that minute apparently. - -"Wait, Captain," said General Randolph quickly, and again the key was -silent. "Now, sir," he said to Lieutenant Foray, "where did you come -from!" - -The Lieutenant did not all comprehend what was toward, but his answer to -that question was plain. - -"There was some mistake, sir," he answered, saluting. - -"Ah!" cried Arrelsford, a note of triumph in his voice. - -"Who made it?" asked the General. - -"I got an order to go to the President's house," returned Foray, "and -when I got there the President----" - -Thorne made one last attempt to complete his message. - -"Beg pardon, General, this delay will be most disastrous. Permit me to -go on with this message. If there's any mistake, we can rectify it -afterward." - -He seized the key and continued sending the message as he spoke. - -"No!" cried Arrelsford. - -General Randolph either did not hear Thorne's speech or heed it, or else -he did not care to prevent him, and he continued his questioning. - -"Where did you get this mistaken order?" he asked. - -But Arrelsford, intensely alive to what was going on, interposed. - -"He's at it again, sir!" - -"Halt, there!" said General Randolph. "I ordered you to wait." - -The despatch was almost completed. Thorne ground his teeth with rage in -his impatience. He had tried audacity before, he would try it again. - -"I was sent here to attend to the business of this office and that -business is going out," he said resolutely. - -"No," said General Randolph with equal firmness, "it is not going out -until I am ready for it." - -"My orders come from the War Department, not from you, sir. This -despatch came in half an hour ago," answered Thorne angrily, his voice -rising, "they are calling for it at the other end of the line. It's my -business to send it out and I am going to do it." - -"Stop!" said General Randolph, as Thorne began to send the message -again. "Sergeant, seize that man and keep him from that machine." - -Well, the last hope was gone. As the Sergeant stepped forward to execute -his orders, Thorne, desperately determined to the last, clicked out a -letter, but he was cut short in the middle of a word. The Sergeant and -two men dragged him away, chair and all, from the table, and two others -posted themselves in front of the key. - -"I will have you court-martialled for this, sir," said General Randolph -angrily. - -"You will have to answer yourself," cried Thorne, playing the game to -the last, "for the delay of a despatch of vital importance, sent by the -Secretary of War." - -"Do you mean that?" cried Randolph. - -"I mean just that," answered Thorne, "and I demand that you let me -proceed with the business of this office. Before these officers and men -I repeat that demand." - -"By what authority do you send that despatch?" - -"I refer you to the Department, sir." - -"Show me your orders for taking charge of this office." - -"I refer you to the Department, sir," answered Thorne stubbornly. - -"By God, sir!" continued General Randolph hotly. "I will refer to the -Department. Leave your men on guard there, Sergeant. Go over to the War -Office. My compliments to the Secretary of War, and ask him if he will -be so good as to----" - -But Arrelsford's evil genius prompted him to interpose again. When -affairs were going to his liking he should have let them alone, but fate -seemed to be playing into his hand, and he determined to make the most -of it and the chance. - -"Another witness! Miss Varney," he cried triumphantly, as he bowed -toward the window in which Edith had at that moment appeared. "She was -here with me, she saw it all. Ask her." - -General Randolph turned toward the window and in his turn bowed to the -girl. - -"Miss Varney," he asked courteously, "do you know anything about this?" - -"About what, sir?" answered Edith in a low voice. - -"Mr. Arrelsford claims that Captain Thorne is acting without authority -in this office and that you can testify to that effect," was the -General's answer. - - - - - CHAPTER XV - - LOVE AND DUTY AT THE TOUCH - - -Thorne's case was now absolutely hopeless. By the testimony of two -witnesses a thing is established. All that Arrelsford had seen Edith had -seen. All that he knew, she knew. She had only to speak and the plan had -failed; the cleverly constructed scheme would fall to pieces. His -brother's life would have been wasted, nay more, his own life also; for -well did he realise that the bold way he had played the game would the -more certainly hasten his immediate execution. A spy in the Confederate -capital! - -He could reproach himself with nothing. He had done his very best. An -ordinary man would have failed a dozen times in the struggle. Courage, -adroitness, resourcefulness, and good fortune had carried him so far, -but the odds were now heavily against him and nothing that he could do -would avail him anything. The game was played and he had lost; -Arrelsford had triumphed. - -Thorne, in the one word that Edith Varney was to speak, would lose life, -honour, and that for which he had risked both. And he would lose more -than that. He would lose the love of the woman who had never seemed so -beautiful to him as she stood there, pale-faced, erect, the very -incarnation of self-sacrifice, as were all the women of the Confederacy. -And he would lose more than her love. He would lose her respect. His -humiliation would be her humiliation. Never so long as she lived could -her mind dwell on him with tenderness. The sound of his name would be a -hissing and a reproach in her ear, his reputation a by-word and a shame. -Her connection with him and that he had loved her would humiliate her -only less than the fact that she had loved him. - -His condition was indeed pitiable; yet, to do him justice, his thoughts -were not so much for himself as they were for two other things. First -and foremost bulked largest before him the plan for which he had made -all this sacrifice, which had promised to end the weary months of siege -which Richmond and Petersburg had sustained. His brother had lost his -life, he more than suspected, in the endeavour to carry it out, and now -he had failed. That was a natural humiliation and reproach to his pride, -although as his mind went back over the scene he could detect no false -move on his part. Of course his allowing his love for Edith Varney to -get the mastery of him had been wrong under the circumstances, but that -had not affected the failure or success of his endeavours. - -And his thoughts also were for the woman. He knew that she loved him, -she had admitted it, but once his eyes had been opened, he could have -told it without any admission at all. All that he had suffered, she had -suffered, and more. If she would be compelled to apologise for him, she -would also be compelled to assume the defensive for him. She loved him -and she was placed in the fearful position of having to deal the blow. -The words which would presently fall from her lips would complete his -undoing. They would blast his reputation forever and send him to his -death. He knew they would not be easy words for her to speak. He knew -that whatever his merit or demerit, she would never forget that it was -she who had completed his ruin; the fact that she would also ruin the -plan against her country would not weigh very heavily in her breaking -heart against that present personal consideration--after a while maybe -but not at first. And therefore he pitied her. - -He drew himself erect to meet his fate like a man, and waited. The wait -was a long one. Edith Varney was having her own troubles. She knew as -well as any one the importance of her testimony. She had come from the -Commissary General's vacant office and had been back at the window long -enough to have heard the conversation between General Randolph and the -two men. She was an unusually keen-witted girl and she realised the -situation to the full. - -Her confidence in her lover had been shaken, undermined, restored, and -shaken again, until her mind was in a perfect whirl. She did not know, -she could not tell whether he was what he seemed to be or not. It seemed -like treachery to him, this uncertainty. It would be a simple matter to -corroborate Mr. Arrelsford at once, and it occurred to her that she had -no option. But coincident with the question flashed into her mind -something she had forgotten which made it possible for her to answer in -another way. Thus, she understood that the life of her lover hung upon -her decision. - -What answer should she make? What course should she take? She realised, -too, that it was quite possible if she saved his life, it might result -in the carrying out of the plan about which there had been so much -discussion and which threatened so much against her country. If he were -false and she saved him he would certainly take advantage of the -respite. If he were true and she saved him no harm could come to her -country. She was intensely patriotic. And that phase of the problem -worried her greatly. - -Her eyes flashed quickly from the vindictive yet triumphant fact of -Arrelsford, whom she loathed, to the pale, composed, set face of Thorne, -whom she loved, and her glance fell upon his wounded left wrist, tied -up, the blood oozing through the handkerchief. A wave of sympathy and -tenderness filled her breast. He was hurt, suffering--that decided her. - -With one brief, voiceless prayer to God for guidance, she turned to -General Randolph, and it was well that she spoke when she did, for the -pause had become insupportable to Thorne at least. He had made up his -mind to relieve the dilemma and confess his guilt so that the girl would -not have to reproach herself with a betrayal of her lover or her cause, -that she might not feel that she had been found wanting at the crucial -moment. Indeed, Thorne would have done this before but his duty as a -soldier enjoined upon him the propriety, the imperative necessity, of -playing the game to the very end. The battle was not yet over. It would -never be over until he faced the firing party. - -And then Edith's voice broke the silence that had become so tense with -emotion. - -"Mr. Arrelsford is mistaken, General Randolph," she said quietly, -"Captain Thorne has the highest authority in this office." - -Arrelsford started violently and opened his mouth to speak, but General -Randolph silenced him with a look. The blood of the old general was up, -and it had become impossible for any one to presume in the least degree. -Thorne started, too. The blood rushed to his heart. He thought he would -choke to death. What did the girl mean? - -"The highest authority, sir," continued Edith Varney, slowly drawing out -the commission, which every one but she had forgotten in the excitement, -"the authority of the President of the Confederate States of America." - -Well, she had done it for weal or for woe. She had made her decision. -Had it been a wise decision? Had she acted for the best? What interest -had governed her, love for Thorne, love for her country, or love for her -own peace of mind? It was in the hands of General Randolph now. The girl -turned slowly away, unable to sustain the burning glances of her lover -and the vindictive stare of Arrelsford. - -"What's this?" said General Randolph. "Umph! A Major's Commission. In -command of the Telegraph Department. Major Thorne, I congratulate you." - -"That commission, General Randolph!" exclaimed Arrelsford, his voice -rising, "let me explain how she----" - -"That will do from you, sir," said the General, "you have made enough -trouble as it is. I suppose you claim that this is a forgery, too----" - -"Let me tell you, sir," persisted the Secret Service Agent. - -"You have told me enough as it is. Sergeant, take him over to -headquarters." - -"Fall in there!" cried the Sergeant of the Guard. "Two of you take the -prisoner. Forward, march!" - -Two men seized Arrelsford, and the rest of them closed about him. To do -the man justice, he made a violent struggle and was only marched out at -the point of the bayonet, protesting and crying: - -"For God's sake, he's in the Yankee Secret Service! He'll send that -despatch out. His brother brought in the signal to-night!" - -All the way down the corridor he could be heard yelling and struggling. -General Randolph paid not the slightest attention to him. He stepped -over to the telegraph table beside which Thorne stood--and with all the -force of which he was capable the young man could hardly control the -trembling of his knees. - -"Major Thorne," he said reprovingly as Thorne saluted him, "all this -delay has been your own fault. If you had only had sense enough to -mention this before we would have been saved a damned lot of trouble. -There's your commission, sir." He handed it to Thorne, who saluted him -again as one in a dream. "Come, gentlemen," he said to his officers, "I -can't understand why they have to be so cursed shy about their Secret -Service orders! Lieutenant Foray?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"Take your orders from Major Thorne." - -"Yes, sir," returned Foray. - -"Good-night," said the General, forgetful of the fact apparently that -Edith Varney was still standing by the window. - -"Good-night, sir," answered Thorne. - -Foray moved over to the table at the right, while Thorne leaped to his -former position, and his hand sought the key. At last he could send his -message, there was nothing to prevent him or interrupt him now, he was -in command. Could he get it through? For a moment he forgot everything -but that, as he clicked out the call again, but he had scarcely pressed -the button when Edith Varney stepped to his side. - -"Captain Thorne," she said in a low voice, giving him the old title. - -He looked up at her, stopping a moment. - -"What I have done gives you time to escape from Richmond," she -continued. - -"Escape!" whispered Thorne, clicking the key again. "Impossible!" - -"Oh," said the girl, laying her hand on his arm, "you wouldn't do -it--now!" - -And again the man's fingers remained poised over the key as he stared at -her. - -"I gave it to you to--to save your life. I didn't think you'd use it for -anything else. Oh! You wouldn't!" - -Her voice in its low whisper was agonising. If her face had been white -before, what could be said of it now? In a flash Thorne saw all. She had -been confident of his guilt, and she had sought to save his life because -she loved him, and now because she loved her country she sought to save -that too. - -The call sounded from the table. Thorne turned to it, bent over it, and -listened. It was the call for the message. Then he turned to the woman. -She looked at him; just one look. The kind of a look that Christ might -have turned upon Peter after those denials when He saw him in the -courtyard early on that bitter morning of betrayal. "I saved you," the -girl's look seemed to say, "I redeemed you and now you betray me!" She -spoke no words, words were useless between them. Everything had been -said, everything had been done. She could only go. Never woman looked at -man nor man looked at woman as these two at each other. - -The woman turned, she could trust herself no further. She went blindly -toward the door. The man followed her slowly, crushing the commission in -his hand, and ever as he went he heard the sound of the call behind him. -He stopped halfway between the door and the table and watched her go, -and then he turned. - -Lieutenant Foray understanding nothing of what had transpired, but -hearing the call, had taken Thorne's place before the table. He had the -despatch about which there had been so much trouble, and upon which the -whole plan turned, in his hand before him. - -"They are calling for that despatch, sir," he said as Thorne stared at -him in agony. "What shall I do with it?" - -"Send it," said the other hoarsely. - -"Very good, sir," answered Foray, seating himself and taking hold of the -key, but the first click of the sounder awakened Thorne to action. - -"No, no!" he cried. "Stop!" He rushed forward and seized the despatch. -"I won't do it!" he thundered. With his wounded hand and his well one he -tore the despatch into fragments. "Revoke the order. Tell them it was a -mistake instantly. I refuse to act under this commission!" - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - BOOK IV - - WHAT HAPPENED AT ELEVEN O'CLOCK - - - - - CHAPTER XVI - - THE TUMULT IN HUMAN HEARTS - - -Of the many frightful nights in Richmond during the siege, that night -was one of the worst. The comparative calmness of the earlier hours of -repose of the quiet April evening gave way to pandemonium. The works at -Petersburg, desperately held by the Confederates, were miles away from -the city to the southward, but such was the tremendous nature of the -cannonading that the shocking sounds seemed to be close at hand. -Children cowered, women shuddered, and old men prayed as they thought of -the furious onslaughts in the battle raging. - -The Richmond streets were filled with people, mostly invalids, -non-combatants, women, and children. A tremendous attack was being -launched by the besiegers somewhere, it was evident. Urgent messengers -from General Lee called every reserve out of the garrison at Richmond, -and the quiet streets and country highways awoke instantly to life. Such -troops as could be spared moved to the front at the double-quick. Every -car of the dilapidated railroad was pressed into service. Those who -could not be transported by train went on horseback or afoot. The -youngest boy and the oldest man alike shouldered their muskets, and with -motley clothes, but with hearts aflame, marched to the sound of the -cannon. The women, the sick, the wounded and invalid men and the -children waited. - -Morning would tell the tale. Into the city from which they marched, men -and boys would come back; an army nearly as great as had gone forth, but -an army halting, maimed, helpless, wounded, suffering, shot to pieces. -They had seen it too often not to be able to forecast the scene -absolutely. They knew with what heroic determination their veterans, -under the great Lee, were fighting back the terrific attacks of their -brothers in blue, under the grimly determined Grant. They could hear his -great war-hammer ringing on their anvil; a hammer of men, an anvil of -men. Plan or no plan, success or no success of some Secret Service -operations, some vital point was being wrestled for in a death-grapple -between two armies; and all the offensive capacities of the one and all -the defensive resources of the other were meeting, as they had been -meeting during the long years. - -In a time like that, of public peril and public need, private and -personal affairs ought to be forgotten, but it was not so. Love and -hate, confidence and jealousy, faithfulness and disloyalty, -self-sacrifice and revenge, were still in human hearts. And these -feelings would put to shame even the passions engendered in the bloody -battles of the fearful warfare. - -Edith Varney, for instance, had gone out of the telegraph office assured -that the sacrifice she had made for her lover had resulted in the -betrayal of her country; that Thorne had had not even the common -gratitude to accede to her request, although she had saved his life, -and, for the time being, his honour. Every cannon-shot, every crashing -volley of musketry that came faintly or loudly across the hills seemed -pointed straight at her heart. For all she knew, the despatch had been -sent, the cunningly devised scheme had been carried out, and into some -undefended gap in the lines the Federal troops were pouring. The defence -would crumble and the Army would be cut in two; the city of Richmond -would be taken, and the Confederacy would be lost. - -And she had done it! Would she have done it if she had known? She had -certainly expected to establish such a claim upon Thorne by her -interposition that he could not disregard it. But if she had known -positively that he would have done what she thought he did, would she -have sent him to his death? She put the question to herself in agony. -And she realised with flushes of shame and waves of contrition that she -would not, could not have done this thing. She must have acted as she -had, whatever was to come of it. Whatever he was, whatever he did, she -loved that man. She need not tell him, she need tell no one, there could -be no fruition to that love. She must hide it, bury it in her bosom if -she could, but for weal or woe she loved him above everything else, and -for all eternity. - -Where was he now? Her interposition had been but for a few moments. The -truth was certain to be discovered. There would be no ultimate escape -possible for him. She heard shots on occasion nearer than Petersburg, in -the city streets. What could they mean? Short, short would be his shrift -if they caught him. Had they caught him? Certainly they must, if they -had not. She realised with a thrill that she had given him an -opportunity to escape and that he had refused it. The sending of that -despatch had been more to him than life. Traitor, spy, Secret Service -Agent--was there anything that could be said for him? At least he was -faithful to his own idea of duty. - -She had met Caroline Mitford waiting in the lower hall of the telegraph -office, and the two, convoyed by old Martha, had come home together. -Many curious glances had been thrown at them, but in these great -movements that were toward, no one molested them. The younger girl had -seen the agony in her friend's face. She had timidly sought to question -her, but she had received no answer or no satisfaction to her queries. -Refusing Caroline's proffered services when she reached home, Edith had -gone straight to her own room and locked the door. - -The affair had been irritating beyond expression to Mr. Arrelsford. It -had taken him some time to establish his innocence and to get his -release from General Randolph's custody. Meanwhile, everything that he -had hoped to prevent had happened. To do him justice, he really loved -Edith Varney, and the thought that her actions and her words had caused -his own undoing and the failure of his carefully laid plans, filled him -with bitterness, which he vented in increased animosity toward Thorne. - -These were bitter moments to Mrs. Varney. She had become somewhat used -to her husband being in the thick of things, but it was her boy now that -was in the ranks. The noise of the cannon and the passing troops threw -Howard into a fever of anxiety which was very bad for him. - -And those were dreadful moments to Thorne. What had he done? He had -risked everything, was ready to pay everything, would, indeed, be forced -to do so in the end, and yet he had not done that which he had intended. -Had he been false to his duty and to his country when he refused to send -that telegram, being given the opportunity? He could not tell. The -ethics of the question were beyond his present solution. The opportunity -had come to him through a piece of sublime self-sacrifice on the part of -the woman, who, knowing him thoroughly and understanding his plan and -purpose, had yet perjured herself to save his life. - -That life was hers, was it not? He had become her prisoner as much as if -she had placed him under lock and key and held him without the -possibility of communication with any one. Her honour was involved. No, -under the circumstances, he could not send the despatch. The -Confederates would certainly kill him if they caught him, and if they -did not, and by any providential chance he escaped, his honour would -compel him to report the circumstances, the cause of his failure, to his -own superiors. Would they court-martial him for not sending the -despatch? Would they enter into his feelings, would they understand? -Would the woman and her actions be considered by them as determining -factors? Would his course be looked upon as justifiable? He could not -flatter himself that any one of these things would be so considered by -any military court. There would be only two things which would influence -his superiors in their judgment of him. Did he get a chance, and having -it, did he use it? - -The popular idea of a Secret Service Agent, a spy, was that he would -stick at nothing. As such men were outside the pale of military -brotherhood, so were they supposed to have a code of their own. Well, -his code did not permit him to send the despatch when his power to send -it had been procured in such a way. It was not so much love for the -woman as it was honour--her honour, suddenly put into his keeping--that -turned him from the key. When both honour and love were thrown into the -scale, there was no possibility of any other action. He could not see -any call of duty paramount to them. - -He stood looking at Foray for a while, and then, without a further -command to that intensely surprised young man, or even a word of -explanation, he seized his hat and coat and left the room. Foray was a -keen-witted officer, he reviewed the situation briefly, and presently a -great light dawned upon him. A certain admiration for Thorne developed -in his breast, and as Allison opportunely came back at this juncture, he -turned over the telegraph office to his subordinate, and in his turn -went out on what he believed to be an exceedingly important errand. - -Thorne found the streets full of people. He had not marked the beginning -of the cannonading in the tumult of the office, but the lights, the -bells pealing alarms from every church-steeple, the trampling of horses -and men, and the roll of the gun-carriages apprised him of what was -toward. Trusting that Thorne had been able to carry out his part, Grant -was attacking the place indicated by "Plan 3" in heavy force. - -What was Thorne to do? Obviously attempt to escape from Richmond, -although it would be a matter of extreme difficulty on account of the -alarm which now aroused every section. He could not go, either, until he -had seen his brother. He surmised that he was dead, but he could not -know that; and he determined not to attempt to leave without making -assurance double sure. It was a duty he owed to his brother, to his -father in the Union Army, and to his superiors in the Federal Secret -Service. If that brother were alive, he must be at the Varney house. He -fancied that he would run as little chance of being observed in the -excitement going in that direction as in any other, and he started to -make his way there. - -The fact that Edith was there influenced him also. Was the call of love -and the living as great, or greater than the call of duty and the dying -or the dead? Who shall say? - -And the remote chance that he might be observed on the way was taken by -his ever-vigilant enemy; for Arrelsford, upon obtaining his freedom, had -sent the troops at the disposal of the Secret Service to hunt him down, -and one of them caught sight of him. The shout of the observer apprised -him of his discovery. He threw one glance behind him and then ran for -his life. He had no especial hope of escaping, but he might get to the -Varney house ahead of the soldiers, and he might see his brother, and he -might see the woman he loved for a moment before he was taken and -killed. - -If it had not been for the two he would have stopped and given himself -up. Somehow he did not care for life. His life was forfeit to the -Federals and the Confederates alike. When she thought to save it, Edith -Varney had doomed him. Also he felt that she had damned him. But he ran -on and on, doubling and turning on his tracks; white-faced, desperate, -his breath coming fainter, his heart beating faster, as he ran. - - - - - CHAPTER XVII - - WILFRED PLAYS THE MAN - - -A sharp contrast to the noise outside was presented by the quiet of the -Varney house inside. The sewing women, in view of the attack and the -movements of the boys and the old men, had separated sooner than they -had intended and had gone their several ways. Old Jonas, frightened to -death, remained locked up in the closet where he had been left by -Arrelsford's men. Martha was upstairs in Howard's room, making ready to -watch over him during the night. - -Caroline Mitford had not gone home. She had sent word that she intended -to pass the night at the Varney house. Somehow she thought they seemed -to need her. She was standing by one of the long front windows in the -drawing-room, now a scene of much disorder because of the recent -struggle. Tables were thrust aside out of their places, chairs were -turned over, and there was a big dark spot on the carpet where Henry -Dumont had poured out his life-blood unavailingly. - -Caroline stared out of the window at the flashes of light. She listened, -with heaving breast and throbbing heart, to the roar of the cannon and -the rattle of musketry. She had heard both many times lately, but now it -was different, for Wilfred was there. Mrs. Varney came upon her with her -hand pressed against her breast, her face white and staring, tears -brimming her eyes, but, as usual, Mrs. Varney was so engrossed with her -own tremendous troubles that she had little thought for the girl. - -"Caroline," she began anxiously, "tell me what happened. Edith won't -speak to me. She has locked herself up in her room. What was it? Where -has she been? What----" - -"She was at the telegraph office," answered Caroline in a low voice. - -"What did she do there? What happened there?" - -"I am not sure." - -"But try to tell me, dear." - -"I would if I could, Mrs. Varney, but I was afraid and ran out and -waited for her in the hall. The rest of them----" The girl broke off as -the deep tones of the city bells clanged sharply above the diapason of -artillery. - -"It's the alarm bell," said Mrs. Varney. - -"Yes," said Caroline, "they are calling out the last reserves." - -"Yes; hark to the cannonading. Isn't it awful?" returned Mrs. Varney. -"They must be making a terrible attack to-night. Lieutenant Maxwell was -right; that quiet spell was a signal." - -"There goes another battery of artillery," said Caroline, staring -through the window. "A man told us that they were sending them all over -to Cemetery Hill. That's where the fighting is, Cemetery Hill." - -"General Varney's Division is to the right of that position, or was the -last time I heard from him," said Mrs. Varney anxiously. - -The two women looked at each other for a moment, both of them thinking -the same thought, to which neither dared give utterance. The object of -their thought was the boy, and the continuous flashes of light on the -horizon seemed to make the situation more horrible. - -"I am afraid they are going to have a bad time of it to-night," said -Caroline, drawing the curtains and turning away from the window. - -"I'm afraid so," was the rejoinder. "Now, try to think, dear, who was at -the telegraph office? Can't you tell me something that occurred that -will explain Edith's silence? She looks like death, and----" - -"I can't tell you anything except that they arrested Mr. Arrelsford." - -"Mr. Arrelsford! You don't mean that?" - -"Yes, I do," answered Caroline. "General Randolph,--I went and brought -him there, because they wouldn't send my telegram,--he was in a fearful -temper----" - -"But Edith? Can't you tell me what she did?" - -"I can't, Mrs. Varney, for I don't know. I waited for her in the hall, -and when she came out she couldn't speak. Then we hurried home. I tried -to get her to tell me, but she wouldn't say a word except that her heart -was broken, and that's all I know, Mrs. Varney, truly, truly." - -"I believe you, my dear. I know you would tell me if you could." - -"I certainly would, for I love----" - -There was a loud ring at the front door. It was evidently unlocked, for, -without waiting for an answer, it was thrown open, roughly, and through -the hall and into the drawing-room stalked Mr. Arrelsford. He was wildly -excited, evidently in a tremendous hurry, and utterly oblivious to -manners or anything else. He had been checked and thwarted so many times -that he was in a bad temper for anything. - -"Is your daughter in the house?" he began roughly, without any further -preliminaries or salutation, without even removing his hat. - -Mrs. Varney drew herself up and looked at him. But he paid no attention -to her at all. - -"Answer," he said harshly. - -She bowed her head in the affirmative, scarcely able to speak in her -indignation at his manner and bearing. - -"I wish to see her." - -"I don't believe she will care to receive you at present," returned her -mother quietly. - -"What she cares to do at present is of small consequence. I must see her -at once. Shall I go up to her room with these men, or will you have her -down here?" - -The room had filled with soldiers as the two spoke together. - -"Neither the one nor the other, sir," said Mrs. Varney, who was not in -the least afraid of Mr. Arrelsford or his soldiers, "until I know your -business with her." - -"My business,--a few questions,--I've got a few questions to ask her. -Listen to that noise out yonder? Do you hear those guns and the troops -passing by? Now, you know what 'Attack to-night, Plan 3,' means." - -"Is that the attack!" asked Mrs. Varney. - -"That's the attack. They are breaking through our lines at Cemetery -Hill. That was the place indicated by 'Plan 3.' We are rushing to the -front all the reserves we have, to the last man and boy, but they may -not get there in time." - -"What, may I ask, has my daughter to do with it?" - -"Do with it? She did it!" asserted Arrelsford bitterly. - -"What!" exclaimed Mrs. Varney, in a great outburst of indignation. "How -dare you!" - -"We had him in a trap, under arrest, the telegraph under guard, when she -brought in that commission. We would have shot him in a moment, but they -took me prisoner and let him go." - -"Impossible!" whispered Mrs. Varney. "You don't mean----" - -"Yes, she did. She put the game in his hands. He got control of the -wires and the despatch went through. As soon as I could get to -headquarters I explained, and they saw the trick. They rushed the guard -back, but the scoundrel had got away. Foray was gone, too, and Allison -knew nothing about it, but we're after him, and if she knows where he -is," he turned as if to leave the room and ascend the stairs, "I will -get it out of her." - -"You don't suppose that my daughter would----" began Mrs. Varney. - -"I suppose everything." - -"I will not believe it," persisted the mother. - -"We can't wait for what you believe," said Arrelsford roughly, this time -taking a step toward the door. - -Mrs. Varney caught him by the arm. - -"Let me speak to her," she pleaded. - -"No, I will see her myself." - -But Miss Mitford, who had been the indirect cause of so much trouble, -once more interposed. She had listened to him with scarcely less -surprise than that developing in Mrs. Varney's breast. She took a -malicious joy in thwarting the Secret Service Agent. She barred the way, -her slight figure in the door, with arms extended. - -"Where is your order for this?" she asked. - -Arrelsford stared at her in surprise. - -"Get out of my way," he said curtly; "I have a word or two to say to you -after I have been upstairs." - -"Show me your order," persisted the girl, who made not the slightest -attempt to give way. - -"It's Department business and I don't require an order." - -"You are mistaken about that," said Caroline with astonishing -resourcefulness. "This is a private house, it isn't the telegraph office -or the Secret Service Department. If you want to go upstairs or see -anybody against their will, you will have to bring an order. I don't -know much, but I know enough for that." - -Arrelsford turned to Mrs. Varney. - -"Am I to understand, madam," he began, "that you refuse----" - -But before Mrs. Varney could answer, the soldiers Arrelsford had brought -with him gave way before the advent of a sergeant and another party of -men. The Sergeant advanced directly to Mrs. Varney, touched his cap to -her, and began: - -"Are you the lady that lives here, ma'am?" - -"Yes, I am Mrs. Varney." - -"I have an order from General Randolph's office to search this house -for----" - -"Just in time," said Arrelsford, stepping toward the Sergeant; "I will -go through the house with you." - -"Can't go through on this order," said the Sergeant shortly. - -"You were sent here to----" began Mrs. Varney. - -"Yes; sorry to trouble you, ma'am, but we'll have to be quick about it. -If we don't find him here we've got to follow him down Franklin Street; -he's over this way somewhere." - -"Who are you? What do you want?" - -"Man named Thorne, Captain of Artillery," answered the Sergeant; "that's -what he went by, at least. Here, two of you this way! That room in there -and the back of the house. Two of you outside," pointing to the windows. -"Cut off those windows. The rest upstairs." - -The men rapidly dispersed, obeying the commands of the Sergeant, and -began a thorough search of the house. Caroline Mitford preceded them up -the stairs to Edith's room. Arrelsford, after a moment's hesitation, -stepped toward the door and went out, followed by his men. Without a -word of acknowledgment or even a bow to Mrs. Varney, he and his men -presently left the house. As he did so, two of the Sergeant's men -reëntered the room, shoving old Jonas roughly before them. The man's -livery was torn and dirty, his head was bound up, and he showed signs of -the rough handling he had undergone. - -"Where did you get that?" asked the Sergeant contemptuously. - -"He was locked in a closet, sir." - -"What were you doing in there?" He turned to the old negro. "If you -don't answer me, we will shoot the life out of you." He raised his -revolver threateningly. "Belongs to you, I reckon," he said to Mrs. -Varney. - -"Yes, my butler; they locked him up. Mr. Arrelsford wants him for -carrying a message." - -"That's all right," said the Sergeant. "If he wants him, he can have -him. We're looking for some one else. Put him back in his closet. Here, -this room! Be quick now! Cover that door. Sorry to disturb you, ma'am." - -"Do what you please," said Mrs. Varney; "I have nothing on earth to -conceal." - -As the men hurriedly withdrew to continue their search, the voice of a -newcomer was heard on the porch. The words came to them clearly: - -"Here, lend a hand, somebody, will you?" - -The next moment General Varney's orderly entered the room, caught sight -of the Sergeant, saluted, and then turned to Mrs. Varney. - -"I've brought back your boy, ma'am," he said. - -"Oh!" exclaimed Mrs. Varney faintly; "what do you mean----?" - -"We never got out to General Varney's. We ran into a Yankee raiding -party, cavalry, down here about three miles. Our home-guard was -galloping by on the run to head them off, and before I knew what he was -about, the boy was in with 'em, riding like mad. There was a bit of a -skirmish, and he got a clip across the neck. Nothing at all, ma'am. He -rode back all the way, and----" - -"Oh, my boy! He's hurt--he's hurt----" - -"Nothing serious, ma'am; don't upset yourself," returned the orderly -reassuringly. - -"Where did you----" - -But that moment the object of their solicitude himself appeared on the -scene. The boy was very pale, and his neck was bandaged. Two of the -Sergeant's men supported him. - -"Oh, Wilfred!" cried his mother; "my boy!" - -"It's nothing, mother," said Wilfred, motioning her away. "You don't -understand." The boy tried to free himself from the men who still held -him by the arm. "What do you want to hold me like that for?" he -expostulated, as he drew himself away and took a few steps. "You see I -can walk," he protested. - -His words were brave, but his performance was weak. His mother came -close to him and extended her arms toward him. But Wilfred was a soldier -now, and he did not want any scenes. Therefore, with a great effort, he -took her hand in as casual a manner as possible, quite like a stranger -paying an afternoon call. - -"How do you do, mother?" he said. "You didn't expect me back so soon, -did you? I will tell you how it was. Don't you go away, orderly. I will -just rest a minute, and then I will go back with you." Another outburst -of the cannon and the frantic pealing of the alarm bells caught his -attention. "See, they are ringing the bells calling out the reserves." -He started toward the door. "I will go right now." - -"No, no, Wilfred," said his mother, taking his arm; "not now, my son." - -"Not now?" said Wilfred, whose weakness was growing apparent. "Do you -hear those--those--those bells and--then tell me not--to go--why----" - -He swayed and tottered. - -"Stand by there!" cried the Sergeant. - -The two men immediately caught hold of him as he fainted. They carried -him to the lounge. - -"Find some water, will you?" continued the Sergeant. "Put his head down, -ma'am, and he'll be all right in a minute. He's only fainted." - -One of the privates who had hurried off in search of water soon came -back with a basin full, with which Mrs. Varney laved the boy's head. - -"He'll be all right in a minute," said the Sergeant. "Come, men." - -He turned as he spoke, and, followed by the men, left the room, leaving -Mrs. Varney with Wilfred and the orderly. It was the latter who broke -the silence. - -"If there isn't anything else, ma'am, I believe I'd better report back -to the General." - -"Yes," said Mrs. Varney, "don't wait. The wound is dressed, isn't it?" - -"Yes; I took him to the Winder Hospital. They said he would be on his -feet in a day or two, but he wants to be kept pretty quiet." - -"Tell the General how it happened." - -"Very well, ma'am," said the orderly, touching his cap and going out. - -The next person to enter the room was Caroline Mitford. The noise of the -men searching the house was very plain. Having informed Edith of the -meaning of the tumult, she had come downstairs to enquire if they had -found Thorne. She came slowly within the door--rather listlessly, in -fact. The exciting events of the night in which she had taken part had -somewhat sapped her natural vivacity, but she was shocked into instant -action when she saw Wilfred stretched upon the sofa. - -"Oh!" she breathed in a low, tense whisper; "what is it? Is he----" - -"Caroline dear," said Mrs. Varney, "it is nothing serious. He isn't -badly hurt. He was cut in the neck and fainted. There, there,"--the -woman rose from Wilfred's side and caught the girl,--"don't you faint, -too, dear." - -"I am not going to faint," said Caroline desperately. She took Mrs. -Varney's handkerchief from the latter's hand, and dipped it in the -water. "I can take care of him," she continued, kneeling down by her -boyish lover. "I don't need anybody down here at all. The men are going -all over the house and----" - -"But, Caroline----" began Mrs. Varney. - -"Mrs. Varney," returned the girl, strangely quiet, "there's a heap of -soldiers upstairs, looking in all the rooms. I reckon you'd better go -and attend to them. They will be in Edith's room, or Howard's, in a -minute." - -"Yes, yes," said Mrs. Varney, "and Howard so ill. I must go for a few -minutes, anyway. You know what to do?" - -"Oh, yes," answered the girl confidently. - -"Bathe his forehead. He isn't badly hurt, dear. I won't be long, and he -will soon come to, I am sure," said Mrs. Varney, hastening away. - -Presently Wilfred opened his eyes. He stared about him unmeaningly and -uncomprehendingly for the moment. - -"Wilfred, dear Wilfred," began the girl in soft, low, caressing tones, -"you are not hurt much, are you? Oh, not much! There, you will feel -better in just a moment, dear Wilfred." - -[Illustration: "You are not hurt much, are you?"] - -"Is there--are you----?" questioned Wilfred, striving to concentrate his -mind on the problem of his whereabouts and her presence. - -"Oh, Wilfred, don't you know me?" - -"What are you talking about?" said Wilfred more strongly. "Of course I -know you. Where am I?" And as full consciousness came back to him, "What -am I doing, anyway? Taking a bath?" - -"No, no, Wilfred; you see I am bathing your head. You fainted a little, -and----" - -"Fainted!" exclaimed Wilfred in deep disgust. "I fainted!" He made a -feeble attempt to rise, but sank back weakly. "Yes, of course, I was in -a fight with the Yankees and got wounded somewhere." - -He stopped, puzzled, staring strangely, almost afraid, at Caroline. - -"What is it?" asked the girl. - -"See here," he began seriously; "I will tell you one thing right now. I -am not going to load you up with a cripple, not much." - -His resignation was wonderful. - -"Cripple!" exclaimed Caroline, bewildered. - -"I reckon I've got an arm knocked off, haven't I?" - -"No, you haven't, Wilfred; they are both on all right." - -"Perhaps it was a hand that they shot away?" - -"Not a single one," said Caroline. - -"Are my--my ears on all right?" - -"Yes," answered the girl. "You needn't bother about them for a moment." - -Wilfred staked all on the last question. - -"How many legs have I got left?" - -"All of them," answered Caroline; "every one." - -"Then, if there's enough of me left to--to amount to anything--you'll -take charge of it, just the same? How about that?" - -"That's all right," said the girl, burying her face on his shoulder. - -Wilfred got hold of her hand and kissed it passionately. He seemed quite -strong enough for that. - -"I tried to send you a telegram but they wouldn't let me," whispered -Caroline suddenly, raising her head and looking at him. - -"You did?" - -"Yes." - -"What did you say in it?" - -But here the girl's courage failed her. - -"Tell me what you said," persisted Wilfred. - -"It was something very nice," faltered poor Caroline. - -"It was, eh?" - -"Yes." - -"Was it as nice as this?" asked Wilfred, suddenly lifting his head and -kissing her. - -"I don't know about that," stammered Caroline, blushing a beautiful -crimson, "but it was very nice. I wouldn't have tried to telegraph it if -it was something bad, would I?" - -"Well, if it was so good," said Wilfred, "why on earth didn't you send -it?" - -"Goodness gracious!" exclaimed Caroline; "how could I when they wouldn't -let me?" - -"Wouldn't let you?" - -"I should think not. They had a dreadful time at the telegraph office." - -"At the telegraph office; were you there?" Wilfred made a violent effort -to recollect. "I have it," he said in stronger tones; "they told me at -the hospital. I must get up." - -"No, no; you mustn't," said Caroline, interposing. - -"Don't," said Wilfred; "I have to attend to it." He spoke with a stern, -strange decision, entirely foreign to his previous idle love-making. "I -know all about Thorne. He gets hold of our Department Telegraph and -sends out a false order, weakens our defences at Cemetery Hill." The boy -got to his feet by this time, steadying himself by Caroline's shoulder. -"They are down on us in a moment." A look of pain, not physical, shot -across his face, but he mastered it. "And she gave it to him, the -commission; my sister Edith!" he continued bitterly. - -"Oh!" said Caroline; "you know----" - -"I know this. If my father were here, he'd see her. As he isn't here, I -will attend to it. Send her to me." - -He spoke weakly, but in a clear voice and a most imperative manner. He -took his hand off Caroline's shoulder. If he were to deal with this, so -grave and critical a situation, he must do it without feminine support. -By a great effort he held himself resolutely erect, repeating his -command. - -"Send her to me." - -"No," said Caroline faintly, just as Mrs. Varney reëntered the room. - -"What is it?" asked the mother. - -"He wants to see Edith," returned the girl. - -"Not now, Wilfred," persisted Mrs. Varney; "you are weak and ill, and -Edith----" - -"Tell her to come here, I must see her at once," repeated Wilfred. - -Mrs. Varney instantly divined the reason. Caroline had told him about -the telegraph office, but she could see no advantage to be gained by the -interview he sought. - -"It won't do you any good, Wilfred," she said. "She won't speak a word -to anybody about it." - -"I don't want her to speak to me," returned the boy grimly; "I am going -to speak to her." - -"But some other time, Wilfred," urged his mother. - -"No, no; immediately," but as no one made the slightest effort toward -complying with his demand, "Very well," he continued, moving slowly -toward the door, and by a determined effort keeping his feet. "If you -won't send her to me, I will----" - -"There, there," said Mrs. Varney, interposing swiftly; "if you must, you -must. Since you insist, I will call her." - -"I do insist." - -"Stay with him, dear," said Mrs. Varney to Caroline, "and I will go and -call her." - -"No," said Wilfred, "I want to see her alone." - -Wondering much at this move of her boy-lover, but somehow feeling that -Wilfred represented his father and the law, Caroline, after one long -look at his pale but composed face, turned and followed Mrs. Varney out -of the room. - - - - - CHAPTER XVIII - - CAPTAIN THORNE JUSTIFIES HIMSELF - - -After the two women had left him, Wilfred stood motionless for a moment, -and then sat wearily down to rest. Scarcely had he done so when he heard -shouts far outside in the street, the heavy trampling of feet, cries, -directions, orders. He rose and walked over to the window. The cries -were growing louder and the footsteps more distinct. Men were -approaching the house rapidly, he could tell that they were running. -What could they be? What was toward? A suspicion flashed into his mind. -It had hardly found lodgment there when Thorne sprang upon the porch, -leaped across it, and burst through the other front window into the long -room. A pedestal with a bust of Washington on it was standing between -the windows. As Thorne sprang back from the window, he knocked against -it. It fell to the floor with a tremendous crash. - -He stood staring a moment toward the window, listening while the noise -of the running feet died away in the distance. It seemed that he had -distanced his pursuers or eluded them for the time being. It could only -be for a moment, however; he had other things to think of. Well, that -moment would be enough; it was all he required. He turned to go down the -room, only to find himself confronted by the boy. - -It is hard to say which was the more surprised of the two--Thorne at -seeing Wilfred, or Wilfred at Thorne's appearance. The latter's face was -pale, his breath was coming rapidly, he was bareheaded. His brow was -covered with sweat, and he had the hunted, desperate look of a man at -the very end of his resources. Neither at first said anything to the -other. It was Thorne who first recovered himself. He sought to pass by -the boy, but Wilfred seized him. - -"Halt!" he cried; "you are under arrest." - -"Wait a moment!" gasped out Thorne; "and I will go with you." - -As he spoke he shook himself loose from the weak grasp of the wounded -young man, and started down the room. - -"Halt, I say!" cried Wilfred. "You are my prisoner." - -"All right, all right," said Thorne quietly; "your prisoner, anything -you like. Here,"--he drew his revolver from his pocket and pushed it -into the boy's hand; "take this, shoot the life out of me, if you wish; -but give me a chance to see my brother first." - -"Your brother?" - -"Yes. He was shot here to-night. I want one look at his face; that's -all." - -"Where is he?" - -"Maybe they put him in the room across the hall yonder." - -"What would he be doing there?" asked Wilfred, not yet apprehending the -situation from Thorne's remarks. - -"Nothing," said the other bitterly; "I guess he is dead." - -"Wait," said Wilfred. He stepped across the hall, keeping Thorne covered -with his revolver. "Don't move; I will see." He threw open the door, -glanced in, and then came back. "It's a lie!" he said. - -"What!" exclaimed Thorne. - -"There is no one in there. It is just one of your tricks. Call the -guard!" He shouted toward the hall, and then toward the window. -"Sergeant of the Guard! Captain Thorne is here, in this house." - -He stepped out on the porch and shouted again with astonishing power for -one so painfully wounded as he. Then the boy felt a faintness come over -him. He sank down on a seat on the porch and leaned his head against the -house, and sought to recover his strength, fighting a desperate battle; -fearful lest Thorne should escape while he was thus helpless. - -It was Edith Varney who first replied to his frantic summons by hurrying -into the room. She was as much surprised to see Thorne as he was to see -her. Her heart leaped in her bosom at the sight of him, and she stared -at him as at a wraith or a vision. - -"You wouldn't tell me an untruth, would you?" said Thorne, coming closer -to her. "He was shot in this room an hour ago, my brother Henry. I'd -like to take one look at his dead face before they send me the same way. -Where is he? Can't you tell me that much, Miss Varney? Is he in the -house?" - -Edith looked at his face, shook her head a little, and moved away from -him toward the table. Thorne threw up his hands in a gesture of despair, -and turned toward the window. As he did so, Wilfred, having recovered -from his faintness a little, called out again: - -"The guard! The escaped prisoner, Captain Thorne!" - -This time his frantic outcry was answered. At last they were closing in -upon the wretched man. He turned from the window and faced the girl, -scarcely less wretched than he, and laughed shortly. - -"They are on the scent, you see," he said; "they'll get me in a minute; -and when they do, it won't take them long to finish me off. And as -that'll be the last of me, Miss Varney, maybe you'll listen to one -thing. We can't all die a soldier's death, in the roar and glory of -battle, our friends about us, under the flag we love. No, not all! Some -of us have orders for another kind of work, dare-devil, desperate work, -the hazardous schemes of the Secret Service. We fight our battles alone, -no comrades to cheer us on, ten thousand to one against us, death at -every turn. If we win, we escape with our lives; if we lose, we are -dragged out and butchered like dogs. No soldier's grave, not even a -trench with the rest of the boys--alone, despised, forgotten! These were -my orders, Miss Varney; this is the death I die to-night, and I don't -want you to think for one moment that I am ashamed of it; no, not for -one moment." - -The sound of heavy feet drew nearer. Wilfred called again, while the two -in the room confronted each other, the man erect, and the woman, too. A -strange pain was in her heart. At least here was a man, but before she -could say a word in answer to his impassioned defence, the room filled -with soldiers. - -"There's your man, Sergeant," said Wilfred; "I hand him over to you." - -"You are my prisoner," said the Sergeant. - -His command was reinforced by a number of others, including Corporal -Matson and his squad, and some of the men of the Provost Guard, who had -been chasing Thorne through the streets. At this juncture, Arrelsford, -panting and breathless, also joined the company in the drawing-room. He -came in rapidly, thrusting aside those in his way. - -"Where is he?" he cried. "Ah!" he exclaimed triumphantly, as his eye -fell upon Thorne, standing quietly, surrounded by the soldiers. "We've -got him, have we?" - -"Young Mr. Varney, here, took him, sir," said the Sergeant. - -"So," returned Arrelsford to his prisoner, "run down at last. Now, you -will find out what it costs to play your little game with our Government -Telegraph lines." - -But Thorne did not turn his head, although Arrelsford spoke almost in -his ear. He looked straight at Edith Varney, and she returned his -glance. - -"Don't waste any time, Sergeant," said Arrelsford furiously. "Take him -down the street and shoot him full of lead. Out with him." - -"Very well, sir," said the Sergeant. - -But Wilfred interposed. He came forward, Thorne's revolver still in his -hand. - -"No," he said decisively; "whatever he is, whatever he has done, he has -the right to a trial." - -"The head of the Secret Service Department said to me if I found him, to -shoot him at sight," snarled Arrelsford. - -"I don't care what General Tarleton said. I captured this man; he's in -this house, and he is not going out unless he is treated fairly." - -The Sergeant looked uncertainly from Wilfred to Arrelsford. Mrs. Varney, -who had entered with the rest of them, and who now stood by her -daughter's side, looked her approval at her son. The mettle of his -distinguished father was surely in his veins. - -"Well done," said the woman softly, but not so softly that those about -her did not hear; "your father would have spoken so." - -Arrelsford came to a sudden decision. - -"Well, let him have a trial. We'll give him a drumhead court-martial, -but it will be the quickest ever held on earth. Stack your muskets here, -and organise a court," he said. - -"Fall in here," cried the Sergeant, at which the men quickly took their -places. "Attention! Stack arms! Two of you take the prisoner. Where -shall we find a vacant room, ma'am?" - -"Across the hall," said Mrs. Varney; "where the ladies were sewing this -evening." - -"Very good," said the Sergeant. "Left face! Forward, march!" - -Arrelsford and Wilfred followed the soldiers. - -"I am the chief witness," said the former. - -"I will see that he gets fair play," remarked the latter, as they -marched out. - -"I must go to Howard," said Mrs. Varney; "this excitement is killing -him; I am afraid he will hardly survive the night. Caroline is with him -now." - -"Very well, mother," said Edith, going slowly up the now deserted room -and standing in the window, looking out into the night, thinking her -strange, appalling thoughts. They would convict him, shoot him, there -was no hope. What had he said? He was not ashamed of his work. It was -the highest duty and involved the highest and noblest sacrifice, because -it made the greatest demand; and they would shoot him like a mad dog. - -"Oh, God!" she whispered; "if some bullet would only find my heart as -well." - - - - - CHAPTER XIX - - THE DRUMHEAD COURT-MARTIAL - - -It so happened that the soldiers who had thrust old Jonas back in his -closet, whence they had taken him a short time before, in their haste, -had failed to lock the door upon him. The negro, who had listened for -the click of the key in the lock, had at once known of their -carelessness. So soon as they had withdrawn from the room, and their -search took them to other parts of the house, he had opened the door -cautiously and had made his way toward the hall by the drawing-room, -which he felt instinctively was the place where the exciting events of -the night would soon culminate. - -Thorne's entry and the circumstances of his apprehension had been so -engrossing that no one had given a thought to Jonas, or to any other -part of the house, for that matter, and he had been able to see -everything through the hangings. He was a quick-witted old negro, and he -knew, of course, that there would be but one verdict given by such a -court-martial as had assembled. Now, the men who composed the court -would of necessity be detailed to carry out their own sentence. The long -room was filled with stacks of guns. Every soldier, even those under the -command of Corporal Matson in Arrelsford's Department, had gone to the -court-martial. There was nothing else of interest to attract them in the -house. Every gun was there in that room, unguarded. - -A recent capture of a battalion of Federal riflemen had put the -Confederates into possession of a few hundred breech-loading weapons, -not of the latest and most approved pattern, for the cartridges in these -guns were in cardboard shells, but still better than any the South -possessed. These rifles had been distributed to some of the companies in -garrison at Richmond, and it so happened that the men of the Secret -Service squad and the Provost Guard had received most of them. Every gun -in the stacks was of this pattern. - -In his earlier days, Jonas had been his young master's personal -attendant, his body-servant, and as such he had often gone hunting with -him. During the war he had frequently visited him in camp, charged with -messages of one sort or another, and he knew all about weapons. - -As he stared into the long room after the departing soldiers, he did not -know Edith Varney was still there, nor could he see her at all, for she -was on the other side of the curtain, looking out of the window, and it -seemed to him that the room was empty. - -Jonas was a very intelligent negro, and while under any ordinary -circumstances his devotion to his master and mistress would have been -absolutely sure, yet he had become tinged with the ideas of freedom and -liberty in the air. He had assisted many and many a Union prisoner. -Captain Thorne, by his pleasant ways and nice address, had won his -heart. And he himself was deeply concerned personally that the young man -should not be punished for his attempt to bring about the success of the -Union cause, which Jonas felt to be his own cause. Therefore he had a -double motive to secure the freedom of his principal if it were in any -way possible. Of course, any direct interposition was out of the -question. He was still only a slave. His open interference would have -been fruitless of any consequences except bad ones for himself, and he -was already more than compromised by the events of the night. What he -was to do he must do by stealth. - -As he stared at the pyramids of guns, listening to the hum of -conversation from the room across the hall--the door had been -fortunately closed--a thought came to him. He pushed aside the portières -with which he had concealed himself, and entered the room by the back -door. He glanced about apprehensively. He was not burdened with any -overplus of physical courage, and what he did was the more remarkable, -especially in view of the fact that the soldiers might return at any -moment and catch him at what they could very easily construe as an act -of high treason, which would result in his blood being mingled with that -of Captain Thorne, in the same gutter, probably. - -He moved with cat-like swiftness in the direction of the first stack of -rules. He knelt down by it, seized the nearest gun, which lay across the -other three, swiftly opened the breech-plug, drew out the cartridge, -looked at it a moment, put the end of it in his mouth, and crunched his -strong white teeth down upon it. When he finished, he had the leaden -bullet in his mouth, and the cardboard shell in his hand. He replaced -this latter in the chamber and closed the breech-plug. A smile of -triumph irradiated his sable features. The gun could be fired, but -whatever or whoever stood in front of it would be unharmed. - -He had not been quite sure that he could do this, but the result of his -experiment convinced him. All the other guns were of the same character, -and, given the time, he could render them all harmless. He did not waste -time in reflection, but started in with the same process on the others. -He worked with furious haste until every bullet had been bitten off -every cartridge. It would have been impossible to have drawn the bullets -of the ordinary muzzle-loading rifle, or army musket, in twenty times -the period. - -The noise of Jonas' first entrance had attracted the attention of Edith -Varney. She had turned with the intention of going into the room, but, -on second thought, she had concealed herself further behind the -curtains. Between the wall and the edge of the portières was a little -space, through which she peered. She saw the whole performance, and -divined instantly what was in Jonas' mind, and what the result of his -actions would be. - -In an incredibly short time, considering what he had to do, the old -negro finished his task. He rose to his feet and stood staring -triumphantly at the long stacks of guns. He even permitted himself a low -chuckle, with a glance across the hall to the court. Well, he had at -least done something worthy of a man's approbation in this dramatic game -in which he was so humble a player. - -Now Edith Varney, who had observed him with mingled admiration and -resentment--resentment that he had proven false to her people, her -family; and admiration at his cleverness--stepped further into the room -as he finished the last musket, and, as he started toward the lower end -of the room to make good his escape, she coughed slightly. - -Jonas stopped and wheeled about instantly, frightened to death, of -course, but somewhat relieved when he saw who it was who had had him -under observation, and who had interrupted him. He realised at once that -it was no use to attempt to conceal anything, and he threw himself upon -the mercy of his young mistress, and, with great adroitness, sought to -enlist her support for what he had done. - -"Dey's gwine to shoot him, shoot him down lak a dog, missy," he said in -a low, pleading whisper, "an' Ah couldn't b'ah to see 'em do dat. Ah -wouldn't lak to see him killed, Ah wouldn't lak it noways. You won't say -nuffin' about dis fo' de sake ob old Jonas, what always was so fond ob -you ebah sense you was a little chile. You see, Ah jes' tek dese -yeah"--he extended his hand, full of leaden bullets--"an' den dey won't -be no ha'm cum to him whatsomebah, les'n dey loads 'em up agin. When dey -shoots, an' he jes' draps down, dey'll roll him obah into de guttah, an' -be off lak mad. Den Ah kin be neah by an'"--he stopped, and, if his face -had been full of apprehension before, it now became transformed with -anxiety. "How's he gwine to know?" he asked. "If he don't drap down, -dey'll shoot him agin, an' dey'll hab bullets in dem next time. What Ah -gwine to do, how Ah gwine to tell him?" - -Edith had listened to him as one in a dream. Her face had softened a -little. After all, this negro had done this thing for the man she--God -forgive her--still loved. - -"You tell him," whispered Jonas; "you tell him, it's de on'y way. Tell -him to drap down. Do dis fo' ole Jonas, honey; do it fo' me, an' Ah'll -be a slabe to you as long as Ah lib, no mattah what Mars Linkum does. -Listen," said the old man, as a sudden commotion was heard in the room -across the hall. "Dey gwine to kill him. You do it." - -Nothing could be gained by remaining. He had said all he could, used -every argument possible to him, and, realising his danger, he turned and -disappeared through the back door into the dark rear hall. There was a -scraping of chairs and a trampling of feet, a few words heard -indistinctly, and then the voice of the old Sergeant: - -"Fall in! Right Face! Forward--March!" - -Before they came into the hall, Jonas made one last appeal. He thrust -his old black face through the portieres, his eyes rolling, his jaws -working. - -"Fo' Gawd's sek, missy, tell him to drap down," he whispered as he -disappeared. - -Wilfred, not waiting for the soldiers, came into the room, and Caroline -followed him. - -"Where's mother?" asked Wilfred. - -"She's gone up to Howard; I think he is dying," said Caroline. "She -can't leave him for anybody or anything." - -If Edith heard, she gave no sign. She stood motionless on the other side -of the room, and stared toward the door; they would bring him back that -way, and she could see him again. - -"Wilfred dear," asked Caroline, "what are they going to do?" - -"Shoot him." - -"When?" - -"Now." - -"Where?" - -"Out in the street." - -Caroline's low exclamation of pity struck a responsive chord in -Wilfred's heart. He nodded gravely, and bit his lips. He did not feel -particularly happy over the situation, evidently, but the conversation -was interrupted by the entrance of the men. They came into the room in a -double line, Thorne walking easily between them. They entered the room -by the door, marched down it, came back, and ranged themselves opposite -the stacks of arms. - -"Halt!" cried the Sergeant. "Right Face! Take arms! Carry arms! Left -face! Forward--March!" - -Edith had not taken her eyes off Thorne since he had reëntered the room. -She had watched him as if fascinated. He had shot at her one quick, -searching glance, and then had kept his eyes averted, not because he -would not like to look at her, but because he could not bear himself -like a man in these last swift terrible seconds, if he did. - -As the men moved to carry out their last order, the girl awoke to her -surroundings. - -"Wait," she said. "Who is in command!" - -"I am, miss," answered the Sergeant. - -Arrelsford, who had entered with the soldiers, started at this, but he -said nothing. - -"I'd like to speak to the--the prisoner," continued Edith. - -"I'm sorry, miss," answered the Sergeant respectfully, but abruptly; -"but we haven't the time." - -"Only a word, Sergeant," pleaded the girl, stepping close to him, and -laying her hand on his arm. - -The Sergeant looked at her a moment. What he saw in her eyes touched his -very soul. - -"Very well," he said. "Right face! Fall out the prisoner!" - -Thorne stepped out in front of the ranks. - -"Now, Miss," said the Sergeant; "be quick about it." - -"No!" said Wilfred sternly. - -"Oh, Wilfred!" cried Caroline, laying her hand on his arm. "Let her -speak to him, let her say good-bye." - -There was an instant's pause. Wilfred looked from Caroline's flushed, -eager face, to Edith's pale one. After all, what was the harm? He nodded -his head, but no one moved. It was the Sergeant who broke the silence. - -"The lady," he said, looking at Thorne, and pointing at Edith. As he -spoke, he added another order. "Matson, take your squad and guard the -windows. Prisoner, you can go over to the side of the room." - -The Sergeant's purpose was plain. It would give Edith Varney an -opportunity to say what she had to say to Thorne in a low voice if she -chose, without the possibility of being overheard. The initiative must -come from the woman, the man realised. It was Edith who turned and -walked slowly across the room, Thorne followed her more rapidly, and the -two stood side by side. They were thus so placed by the kindness of the -veteran that she could speak her words, and no one could hear what they -were. - -"One of the servants," began the girl in a low, utterly passionless and -expressionless voice, "Jonas, has taken the bullets from the guns. If -you will drop when they fire, you can escape with your life." - -In exactly the same level, almost monotonous, voice, Thorne whispered a -pertinent question: - -"Shall I do this for you?" - -"It is nothing to me," said the woman quietly, and might God forgive -her, she prayed, for that falsehood. - -Thorne looked at her, his soul in his eyes. If her face had been carved -from marble, it could not have been more expressionless and indifferent. -He could not know how wildly her heart was beating underneath that stony -exterior. Well, she had turned against him. He was nothing to her. There -was no use living any longer. She did not care. - -"Were you responsible in any way for it?" he asked. - -The girl shook her head and turned away without looking at him. She had -not the least idea of what he was about to do. Not one man in a thousand -would have done it. Perhaps if he went to his death in some quixotic -way, he might redeem himself in her eyes, had flashed into Thorne's -mind, as he turned to the guard. - -"Sergeant," he said, saluting. He spoke in a clear, cool, most -indifferent way. "You had better take a look at the rifles of your -command. I understand they have been tampered with." - -"What the hell!" cried the Sergeant, seizing a piece from the nearest -man. He snapped open the breech-plug and drew out the cartridge and -examined it. Some one had bitten off the bullet! He saw everything -clearly. "Squad ready!" he cried. "Draw cartridges!" - -There was a rattling of breech-plugs and a low murmur of astonishment, -as every man found that his cartridge was without a bullet. - -"With ball cartridges, load!" cried the Sergeant. "Carry arms!" - -When this little manoeuvre, which was completed with swiftness and -precision because the men were all veterans, was finished, the Sergeant -turned to the prisoner, who had stood composedly watching the -performance which took away his last opportunity for escape, and saluted -him with distinct admiration. - -"I am much obliged to you, sir," he said. - -How Edith Varney kept her feet, why she did not scream or faint away, -she could not tell. Thorne's words had petrified her. Her pride kept her -from acknowledging what she felt. She had never dreamed of any such -action on his part, and it seemed to her that she had sent him to his -death again. How could she retrace her steps, repair her blunder? There -was nothing to do. But her countenance changed. A look of such desperate -entreaty came into her face as fully betrayed her feelings. Of the -people in the room, only Arrelsford observed her, and even his jealousy -and resentment were slightly softened by her visible anguish. Everybody -was staring at Thorne, for they all knew the result of his remarkable -action, although no one could in the least degree fathom the reason. - -It was Wilfred who broke the silence. He walked slowly up to Thorne and -thrust out his hand. - -"I would like to shake hands with you," he said admiringly, and for the -first time in the long hours a slight smile quivered about the man's -lips. It was the generous, spontaneous tribute of youth that gave him -that moment of melancholy satisfaction. - -"Oh," thought Edith, watching her brother; "if only I dared to do the -like." - -"Is this for yourself?" asked Thorne, "or your father?" - -"For both of us, sir," answered Wilfred. - -Thorne shook him by the hand. The two looked into each other's faces, -and everybody saw the satisfaction and gratification of the older man. - -"That's all, Sergeant," said Thorne, turning away. - -"Fall in the prisoner! Escort left face! Forward--March!" cried the -Sergeant. - -At that moment a man, breathless from having run rapidly, entered the -room by the window. His uniform was that of an officer, and he wore a -Lieutenant's shoulder-straps. - -"Halt!" he cried, as he burst into the room. "Are you in command, -Sergeant?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"General Randolph's on the way here with orders. You will please wait -until----" - -But Arrelsford now interposed. - -"What orders, Lieutenant? Anything to do with this case?" - -The officer looked greatly surprised at this intervention by a civilian, -but he answered civilly enough: - -"I don't know what his orders are. He has been with the President." - -"But I sent word to the Department," said Arrelsford, "that we had got -the man, and were going to drumhead him on the spot." - -"Then this must be the case, sir. The General wishes to be present." - -"It is impossible," returned Arrelsford. "We have already held the -court, and I have sent the findings to the Secretary. The messenger is -to get his approval and meet us at the corner of the street yonder. I -have no doubt he is waiting there now. It is a mere formality." - -"I have no further orders to give, sir," said the Lieutenant. "General -Randolph will be here in a minute, but you can wait for him or not, as -you see fit." - -The Sergeant stood uncertain. For one thing, he was not anxious to carry -out the orders he had been given now. That one little action of Thorne's -had changed the whole situation. For another thing, Arrelsford was only -a civilian, and General Randolph was one of the ranking officers in -Richmond. - -"Move on, Sergeant," said Arrelsford peremptorily. "You have all the -authority you want, and----" - -The Sergeant held back, uncertainly, but the day was saved by the advent -of the General himself. - - - - - CHAPTER XX - - THE LAST REPRIEVE - - -General Randolph was evidently in a great hurry. Public affairs of great -moment pressed upon him, and it was an evidence of the interest he took -in the case of Captain Thorne that he gave him even a minute of his -valuable time. He had come on horseback, and everybody could see that he -was anxious to get through with his appointed task and get away. - -"Ah, Sergeant," he said, answering the latter's salute as he brought the -guard to attention, and then his eye fell upon Captain Thorne. "You have -the prisoner, have you?" - -"Just taking him out, sir," answered the Sergeant, saluting again. - -"To prison?" - -"No, sir." - -"Where, then?" - -"To execute the sentence of the court, sir." - -"Oh!" exclaimed the General, looking hard at the Sergeant. "He has had -his trial, has he?" - -But Arrelsford, who chafed at thus being left out of the game, now -stepped over and took up the burden of the conversation before the -Sergeant could reply. - -"We have done everything according to regulation, sir," he said, -saluting in a rather cavalier manner. He did not like General Randolph. -If it had not been for his interference, the affair would have been -settled long ago, and he still cherished a grudge against the latter for -having arrested a man so important as the trusted agent of the Secret -Service. "The findings have gone to the Secretary." - -"Ah!" said General Randolph blandly. He did not like Mr. Arrelsford any -better than Mr. Arrelsford liked him. - -"Yes, sir." - -"And he was found guilty, I presume?" - -"Certainly, sir." - -"And what are you going to do with him?" - -"There is no time for a hanging now, and the court has ordered him -shot." - -"Oh, indeed. And what were the charges?" - -"Conspiracy against our government and the success of our arms, by -sending a false and misleading despatch containing forged orders, was -the particular specification." - -"Well," said General Randolph, "I regret to say that the court has been -misinformed." - -"What!" cried Arrelsford, in great surprise. "The testimony was very -plain." - -"Yes, indeed, sir," interposed the Sergeant. - -"Nevertheless," returned the General, "the man is not guilty of that -charge. The despatch was not sent." - -Now Edith Varney had scarcely moved. She had expected nothing, she had -hoped for nothing, from the advent of the General. At best it would mean -only a little delay. The verdict was just, the sentence was adequate, -and the punishment must and would be carried out. She had listened, -scarcely apprehending, busy with her own thoughts, her eyes fastened on -Thorne, who stood there so pale and composed. But at this remarkable -statement by General Randolph she was suddenly quickened into life. A -low exclamation broke from her lips. A hope, not that his life might be -saved, but that it might be less shameful to love him, came into her -heart. Wilfred stepped forward also. - -The terse statement of the General had caused a great deal of excitement -and commotion in the room. Only Thorne preserved his calmness. He was -glad that Edith Varney had learned this, and he was more glad that she -had learned it from the lips of the enemy, but it would make no -difference in his fate. He was not guilty of that particular charge, but -there were dozens of other charges for which they could try him, the -punishment of any one of which was death. Besides, he was a spy caught -in the Confederate lines, wearing a uniform not his own. It was enough -that the woman should learn that he had not taken advantage of her -action; at least she could not reproach herself with that. - -"Why, General," began Arrelsford, greatly dismayed, "I hardly understand -what you mean. That despatch--I saw him myself----" - -General Randolph turned on him quickly. - -"I say that that despatch was not sent," he roared, striking the table -with his hand. "I expected to arrive in time for the trial. There is one -here who can testify. Lieutenant Foray?" - -From among the group of staff officers who had followed General -Randolph, Lieutenant Foray stepped forward before the General and -saluted. - -"Did Captain Thorne send out that despatch after we left you with him in -the office an hour ago?" asked the older officer. - -"No, sir," answered Foray promptly, glancing from Arrelsford's thwarted -and flushed and indignant countenance to Edith Varney's face, in which -he saw the light of a great illumination was shining. "No, sir," he -repeated; "I was just about to send it by his orders, when he -countermanded it and tore up the despatch." - -"And what despatch was it?" - -"It was one signed by the Secretary of War, sir, removing Marston's -Division from Cemetery Hill." - -"You hear, gentlemen," said the General, and, not giving them time to -answer, he turned again to Foray. "What were Captain Thorne's words at -the time?" - -"He said he refused to act under that commission, and crumpled it up and -threw it away." - -"That will do, Lieutenant," said General Randolph triumphantly. He -turned to Arrelsford again. "If you are not satisfied, Mr. Arrelsford, I -beg to inform you that we have a despatch, from General Chesney at the -front, in which he says that no orders were received from here. He got -an uncompleted despatch, but could not make anything out of it. -Marston's Division was not withdrawn from Cemetery Hill, and our -position was not weakened in any way. The attack there has failed." -There was a low murmur of astonishment from the group of men in the -room. Edith Varney did one significant thing. She made two steps in -Thorne's direction. That young man did not dare to trust himself to look -at her. "It is quite plain," continued the General, "that the court has -been acting under an error. The President of the Confederacy is, -therefore, compelled to disapprove the finding, and it is set aside. He -happened to be with the Secretary when the finding came in." - -Arrelsford made one last desperate effort. - -"General Randolph," he said, and, to do him justice, he did not lack -courage, "this was put in my hands, and----" - -General Randolph laughed. - -"I take it out of your hands," he said curtly. "Report back to the War -Office, or the Secret Service Office, with my compliments, and----" - -"But there are other charges upon which he could be tried," persisted -Arrelsford. "He is a spy anyway, and----" - -"I believe I gave you your orders, Mr. Arrelsford," interrupted the -General, with suspicious politeness. - -"But hadn't I better wait and see----" - -"By God, sir," thundered Randolph, "do I have to explain my orders to -the whole Secret Service of the Confederacy? Don't wait to see anything. -Go at once, or I will have you escorted by a file of soldiers." - -Arrelsford would have defied the General if there had been the least use -in the world in doing it, but the game was clearly up for the present. -He would try to arrange to have Thorne rearrested and tried as a spy -later. Now he could do nothing. He walked out of the room, pride -enabling him to keep up a brave front, but with disappointment and -resentment raging in his heart. He did not realise that his power over -Thorne had been withdrawn. In the great game that they had played, he -had lost at all points. They all watched him go, not a single one in the -room with sympathy, or even pity. - -"Now, Sergeant," said the General, as they heard the heavy hall door -close; "I want to speak to the prisoner." - -"Order arms!" cried the Sergeant. "Parade rest!" As the squad assumed -these positions in obedience to his commands, the Sergeant continued, -"Fall out the prisoner." - -Thorne stepped forward one pace from the ranks, and saluted the General. -He kept his eyes fixed upon that gentleman, and it was only the -throbbing of his heart that made him aware that Edith Varney was by his -side. She bent her head toward him; he felt her warm breath against his -cheek as she whispered: - -"Oh! Why didn't you tell me? I thought you sent it, I thought you----" - -"Miss Varney!" exclaimed the General in surprise. - -But Edith threw maidenly reserve to the winds. The suddenness of the -revelation overwhelmed her. - -"There is nothing against him, General Randolph, now; is there? He -didn't send it. There's nothing to try him for!" she said. - -General Randolph smiled grimly at her. - -"You are very much mistaken, Miss Varney," he answered. "The fact of his -being caught in our lines without his proper uniform is enough to hang -him in ten minutes." - -Edith caught her heart with her hand with a sharp exclamation, but -General Randolph had turned to speak to the prisoner. - -"Captain Thorne," he said, "or Lewis Dumont, if that is your name; the -President is fully informed regarding the circumstances of your case, -and I needn't say that we look upon you as a cursed dangerous character. -There isn't any doubt whatever that you ought to be shot right now, but, -considering the damned peculiarity of your behaviour, and that you -refused to send out that despatch when you might have done so, we've -decided to keep you out of mischief some other way. You will be held a -prisoner of war." - -Captain Thorne was almost too dazed to realise the purport of the -decree. He mechanically saluted, and from his lips broke a murmured, - -"Thank you, sir." - -The General looked at him severely, and then, seeing Edith Varney, -turned away and engaged in conversation with his staff. His intention -was obvious, and Edith immediately embraced the opportunity. - -"Oh!" she said; "that isn't nearly so bad as death," and before them all -she stretched out her hand to him. - -"No?" queried Thorne in a low voice. - -"No," she said, forcing herself to look at him. "After a while -perhaps--some time----" - -"Oh!" said Thorne. "Some time? If it's some time, that's enough." - -Mrs. Varney, having succeeded in getting Howard quiet and composed, had -been in the room since the advent of General Randolph. - -"Mamma," said Edith, "won't you speak to him, too?" - -Mrs. Varney approached him, but Wilfred was quicker. - -"I would like to shake hands with you," he said, with boyish enthusiasm. - -"What, again?" said Thorne, smiling. "All right." He stretched out his -hand. "Go ahead." - -"And so would I," said Caroline, following the lead of her boy lover. - -"Don't be afraid now," said Wilfred. "Everything will be all right. They -will give you a parole, and----" - -"A parole!" said Caroline. "Goodness gracious, they will give you -hundreds of them, I am sure." - -But General Randolph turned once more. - -"One moment, please," said the officer. As he came forward, the others -fell back. Only Edith Varney kept her place close by Thorne's side. -"There is only one reason on earth why the President has set aside a -certain verdict of death. You held up that false order and made a turn -in our favor. You are not to be tried as a spy, but held as a prisoner -of war. We expect you to make that turn complete and enter our service." - -"Never," replied Thorne instantly. "That's impossible, sir." - -"You can give us your answer later," said the General. - -"You have it now." - -"You will be kept in close confinement until you come to our terms," -continued the older officer. - -"You make me a prisoner for life, then." - -"You will see it in another light before many days, and it wouldn't -surprise me if Miss Varney had something to do with a change in your -views." - -"You are mistaken, General Randolph," quickly interposed Edith. "I think -he is perfectly right." - -"Oh, very well," said the General, smiling a little. "We will see what a -little prison life will do. Sergeant?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"I have turned the prisoner over to Major Whitfield. He requests you to -take the prisoner to his office, where he'll take charge of him." - -"Very good, sir," answered the Sergeant. - -"What is it?" whispered Thorne to Edith. "Love and good-bye?" - -"No," answered the girl; "only the first." She stopped and looked up at -him, her face flushed, her heart throbbing, her eyes shining gloriously. -"And that every day, every hour, every minute, until we meet again." - -"Thank God," whispered Thorne. "Until we meet again." - -"Attention!" cried the Sergeant. "Carry arms! Left face! Fall in the -prisoner! Forward--March!" - - - - - AFTERWORD - - -And so the great adventure is over, the story is told, and the play is -played. It is hard to tell who lost and who won. It made little -difference in the end that Marston's Division had not been withdrawn, -and that the attack on Cemetery Hill had failed. It made little -difference in the end that Arrelsford had been thwarted in his attempts -to wreak his vengeance upon Thorne. It made little difference in the end -that Thorne refused to enter the service of the Confederacy, preferring -imprisonment for life. For the days of that Confederacy were numbered. -It was even then tottering on the verge of its grave, in spite of the -brave front it kept up. - -Three days after the events of that night, and Richmond had fallen, and -presently the last of the Confederate defenders halted at Appomattox. -The Stars and Bars were hauled down for the last time. The Army was -disbanded. The prisoners were released. There was a quiet wedding in the -old house. Howard, happily recovering from his wounds, was present. -General Varney himself gave away the bride--reluctantly, to be sure, yet -he did it. Wilfred took the place of the brother of Captain Thorne--to -continue to call him by the name he had assumed--and acted as the best -man. To whom should be given the coveted privilege of attending the -bride but to Miss Caroline Mitford! And Miss Kittridge and the few other -guests, including General Randolph, saw in the younger couple -indications that when a few more years had made it suitable, the two who -played the second part on this interesting occasion would be principals -themselves. - -There was much opposition, of course, to the wedding of Captain Thorne -and Edith Varney, and many bitter things were said, but there was no -restraining the young people. They had lived and suffered, they had -almost died together. The years of peace and harmony and friendship that -came to the sections at last, and the present happiness that was theirs -immediately, convinced even the most obdurate that what they had done -was exactly right. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - TITLES SELECTED FROM - GROSSET & DUNLAP'S LIST - - May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. - -THE SIEGE OF THE SEVEN SUITORS. By Meredith Nicholson. Illustrated by C. -Coles Phillips and Reginald Birch. - -Seven suitors vie with each other for the love of a beautiful girl, and -she subjects them to a test that is full of mystery, magic and sheer -amusement. - -THE MAGNET. By Henry C. Rowland. Illustrated by Clarence F. Underwood. - -The story of a remarkable courtship involving three pretty girls on a -yacht, a poet-lover in pursuit, and a mix-up in the names of the girls. - -THE TURN OF THE ROAD. By Eugenia Brooks Frothingham. - -A beautiful young opera singer chooses professional success instead of -love, but comes to a place in life where the call of the heart is -stronger than worldly success. - -SCOTTIE AND HIS LADY. By Margaret Morse. Illustrated by Harold M. Brett. - -A young girl whose affections have been blighted is presented with a -Scotch Collie to divert her mind, and the roving adventures of her pet -lead the young mistress into another romance. - -SHEILA VEDDER. By Amelia E. Barr. Frontispiece by Harrison Fisher. - -A very beautiful romance of the Shetland Islands, with a handsome, -strong willed hero and a lovely girl of Gaelic blood as heroine. A -sequel to "Jan Vedder's Wife." - -JOHN WARD, PREACHER. By Margaret Deland. - -The first big success of this much loved American novelist. It is a -powerful portrayal of a young clergyman's attempt to win his beautiful -wife to his own narrow creed. - -THE TRAIL OF NINETY-EIGHT. By Robert W. Service. Illustrated by Maynard -Dixon. - -One of the best stories of "Vagabondia" ever written, and one of the -most accurate and picturesque of the stampede of gold seekers to the -Yukon. The love story embedded in the narrative is strikingly original. - - Ask for complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction - Grosset & Dunlap, 526 West 26th St., New York - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - TITLES SELECTED FROM - GROSSET & DUNLAP'S LIST - - May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. - -A CERTAIN RICH MAN. By William Allen White. - -A vivid, startling portrayal of one man's financial greed, its wide -spreading power, its action in Wall Street, and its effect on the three -women most intimately in his life. A splendid, entertaining American -novel. - -IN OUR TOWN. By William Allen White. Illustrated by F. R. Gruger and W. -Glackens. - -Made up of the observations of a keen newspaper editor, involving the -town millionaire, the smart set, the literary set, the bohemian set, and -many others. All humorously related and sure to hold the attention. - -NATHAN BURKE. By Mary S. Watts. - -The story of an ambitious, backwoods Ohio boy who rose to prominence. -Everyday humor of American rustic life permeates the book. - -THE HIGH HAND. By Jacques Futrelle. Illustrated by Will Grefe. - -A splendid story of the political game, with a son of the soil on the -one side, and a "kid glove" politician on the other. A pretty girl, -interested in both men, is the chief figure. - -THE BACKWOODSMEN. By Charles G. D. Roberts. Illustrated. - -Realistic stories of men and women living midst the savage beauty of the -wilderness. Human nature at its best and worst is well portrayed. - -YELLOWSTONE NIGHTS. By Herbert Quick. - -A jolly company of six artists, writers and other clever folks take a -trip through the National Park, and tell stories around camp fire at -night. Brilliantly clever and original. - -THE PROFESSOR'S MYSTERY. By Wells Hastings and Brian Hooker. Illustrated -by Hanson Booth. - -A young college professor, missing his steamer for Europe, has a -romantic meeting with a pretty girl, escorts her home, and is enveloped -in a big mystery. - - Ask for complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction - Grosset & Dunlap, 526 West 26th St., New York - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - TITLES SELECTED FROM - GROSSET & DUNLAP'S LIST - - May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. - -THE SECOND WIFE. By Thompson Buchanan. Illustrated by W. W. Fawcett. -Harrison Fisher wrapper printed in four colors and gold. - -An intensely interesting story of a marital complication in a wealthy -New York family involving the happiness of a beautiful young girl. - -TESS OF THE STORM COUNTRY. By Grace Miller White. Illustrated by Howard -Chandler Christy. - -An amazingly vivid picture of low class life in a New York college town, -with a heroine beautiful and noble, who makes a great sacrifice for -love. - -FROM THE VALLEY OF THE MISSING. By Grace Miller White. Frontispiece and -wrapper in colors by Penrhyn Stanlaws. - -Another story of "the storm country." Two beautiful children are -kidnapped from a wealthy home and appear many years after showing the -effects of a deep, malicious scheme behind their disappearance. - -THE LIGHTED MATCH. By Charles Neville Buck. Illustrated by R. F. -Schabelitz. - -A lovely princess travels incognito through the States and falls in love -with an American man. There are ties that bind her to someone in her own -home, and the great plot revolves round her efforts to work her way out. - -MAUD BAXTER. By C. C. Hotchkiss. Illustrated by Will Grefe. - -A romance both daring and delightful, involving an American girl and a -young man who had been impressed into English service during the -Revolution. - -THE HIGHWAYMAN. By Guy Rawlence. Illustrated by Will Grefe. - -A French beauty of mysterious antecedents wins the love of an Englishman -of title. Developments of a startling character and a clever untangling -of affairs hold the reader's interest. - -THE PURPLE STOCKINGS. By Edward Salisbury Field. Illustrated in colors; -marginal illustrations. - -A young New York business man, his pretty sweetheart, his sentimental -stenographer, and his fashionable sister are all mixed up in a -misunderstanding that surpasses anything in the way of comedy in years. -A story with a laugh on every page. - - Ask for complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction - Grosset & Dunlap, 526 West 26th St., New York - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - The Master's Violin - By MYRTLE REED - -[Illustration: small image of book cover] - -A Love Story with a musical atmosphere. A picturesque, old German -virtuoso is the reverent possessor of a genuine Cremona. He consents to -take as his pupil a handsome youth who proves to have an aptitude for -technique, but not the soul of the artist. The youth has led the happy, -careless life of a modern, well-to-do young American, and he cannot, -with his meagre past, express the love, the longing, the passion and the -tragedies of life and its happy phases as can the master who has lived -life in all its fulness. But a girl comes into his existence, a -beautiful bit of human driftwood that his aunt had taken into her heart -and home; and through his passionate love for her, he learns the lessons -that life has to give--and his soul awakens. - -Founded on a fact well known among artists, but not often recognized or -discussed. - - --------------------- - -If you have not read "Lavender and Old Lace" by the same author, you -have a double pleasure in store--for these two books show Myrtle Reed in -her most delightful, fascinating vein--indeed they may be considered as -masterpieces of compelling interest. - - Ask for complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction - Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - The Prodigal Judge - By VAUGHAN KESTER - -This great novel--probably the most popular book in this country -to-day--is as human as a story from the pen of that great master of -"immortal laughter and immortal tears," Charles Dickens. - -The Prodigal Judge is a shabby outcast, a tavern hanger-on, a genial -wayfarer who tarries longest where the inn is most hospitable, yet with -that suavity, that distinctive politeness and that saving grace of humor -peculiar to the American man. He has his own code of morals--very -exalted ones--but honors them in the breach rather than in the -observance. - -Clinging to the Judge closer than a brother, is Solomon -Mahaffy--fallible and failing like the rest of us, but with a sublime -capacity for friendship; and closer still, perhaps, clings little -Hannibal, a boy about whose parentage nothing is known until the end of -the story. Hannibal is charmed into tolerance of the Judge's picturesque -vices, while Miss Betty, lovely and capricious, is charmed into placing -all her affairs, both material and sentimental, in the hands of this -delightful old vagabond. - -The Judge will be a fixed star in the firmament of fictional characters -as surely as David Harum or Col. Sellers. He is a source of infinite -delight, while this story of Mr. Kester's is one of the finest examples -of American literary craftmanship. - - Ask for complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction - Grosset & Dunlap, 526 West 26th St., New York - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - A FEW OF - GROSSET & DUNLAP'S - Great Books at Little Prices - -WHEN A MAN MARRIES. By Mary Roberts Rinehart. Illustrated by Harrison -Fisher and Mayo Bunker. - -A young artist, whose wife had recently divorced him, finds that a visit -is due from his Aunt Selina, an elderly lady having ideas about things -quite apart from the Bohemian set in which her nephew is a shining -light. The way in which matters are temporarily adjusted forms the motif -of the story. - -A farcical extravaganza, dramatized under the title of "Seven Days." - -THE FASHIONABLE ADVENTURES OF JOSHUA CRAIG. By David Graham Phillips. -Illustrated. - -A young westerner, uncouth and unconventional, appears in political and -social life in Washington. He attains power in politics, and a young -woman of the exclusive set becomes his wife, undertaking his education -in social amenities. - -"DOC." GORDON. By Mary E. Wilkins-Freeman. Illustrated by Frank T. -Merrill. - -Against the familiar background of American town life, the author -portrays a group of people strangely involved in a mystery. "Doc." -Gordon, the one physician of the place, Dr. Elliot, his assistant, a -beautiful woman and her altogether charming daughter are all involved in -the plot. A novel of great interest. - -HOLY ORDERS. By Marie Corelli. - -A dramatic story, in which is pictured a clergyman in touch with society -people, stage favorites, simple village folk, powerful financiers and -others, each presenting vital problems to this man "in holy -orders"--problems that we are now struggling with in America. - -KATRINE. By Elinor Macartney Lane. With frontispiece. - -Katrine, the heroine of this story, is a lovely Irish girl, of lowly -birth, but gifted with a beautiful voice. - -The narrative is based on the facts of an actual singer's career, and -the viewpoint throughout is a most exalted one. - -THE FORTUNES OF FIFI. By Molly Elliot Seawell. Illustrated by T. de -Thulstrup. - -A story of life in France at the time of the first Napoleon. Fifi, a -glad, mad little actress of eighteen, is the star performer in a third -rate Parisian theatre. A story as dainty as a Watteau painting. - -SHE THAT HESITATES. By Harris Dickson. Illustrated by C. W. Relyea. - -The scene of this dashing romance shifts from Dresden to St. Petersburg -in the reign of Peter the Great, and then to New Orleans. - -The hero is a French Soldier of Fortune, and the princess, who -hesitates--but you must read the story to know how she that hesitates -may be lost and yet saved. - - Grosset & Dunlap, 526 West 26th St., New York - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - A FEW OF - GROSSET & DUNLAP'S - Great Books at Little Prices - -CY WHITTAKER'S PLACE. By Joseph C. Lincoln. Illustrated by Wallace -Morgan. - -A Cape Cod story describing the amusing efforts of an elderly bachelor -and his two cronies to rear and educate a little girl. Full of honest -fun--a rural drama. - -THE FORGE IN THE FOREST. By Charles G. D. Roberts. Illustrated by H. -Sandham. - -A story of the conflict in Acadia after its conquest by the British. A -dramatic picture that lives and shines with the indefinable charm of -poetic romance. - -A SISTER TO EVANGELINE. By Charles G. D. Roberts. Illustrated by E. -McConnell. - -Being the story of Yvonne de Lamourie, and how she went into exile with -the villagers of Grand Pré. Swift action, fresh atmosphere, wholesome -purity, deep passion and searching analysis characterize this strong -novel. - -THE OPENED SHUTTERS. By Clara Louise Burnham. Frontispiece by Harrison -Fisher. - -A summer haunt on an island in Casco Bay is the background for this -romance. A beautiful woman, at discord with life, is brought to realize, -by her new friends, that she may open the shutters of her soul to the -blessed sunlight of joy by casting aside vanity and self love. A -delicately humorous work with a lofty motive underlying it all. - -THE RIGHT PRINCESS. By Clara Louise Burnham. - -An amusing story, opening at a fashionable Long Island resort, where a -stately Englishwoman employs a forcible New England housekeeper to serve -in her interesting home. How types so widely apart react on each others' -lives, all to ultimate good, makes a story both humorous and rich in -sentiment. - -THE LEAVEN OF LOVE. By Clara Louise Burnham. Frontispiece by Harrison -Fisher. - -At a Southern California resort a world-weary woman, young and beautiful -but disillusioned, meets a girl who has learned the art of living--of -tasting life in all its richness, opulence and joy. The story hinges -upon the change wrought in the soul of the blasè woman by this glimpse -into a cheery life. - - Grosset & Dunlap, 526 West 26th St., New York - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - B. M. Bower's Novels - Thrilling Western Romances - - Large 12 mos. Handsomely bound in cloth. Illustrated - -CHIP, OF THE FLYING U - -A breezy wholesome tale, wherein the love affairs of Chip and Delia -Whitman are charmingly and humorously told. Chip's jealousy of Dr. Cecil -Grantham, who turns out to be a big, blue eyed young woman is very -amusing. A clever, realistic story of the American Cow-puncher. - -THE HAPPY FAMILY - -A lively and amusing story, dealing with the adventures of eighteen -jovial, big hearted Montana cowboys. Foremost amongst them, we find -Ananias Green, known as Andy, whose imaginative powers cause many lively -and exciting adventures. - -HER PRAIRIE KNIGHT - -A realistic story of the plains, describing a gay party of Easterners -who exchange a cottage at Newport for the rough homeliness of a Montana -ranch-house. The merry-hearted cowboys, the fascinating Beatrice, and -the effusive Sir Redmond, become living, breathing personalities. - -THE RANGE DWELLERS - -Here are everyday, genuine cowboys, just as they really exist. Spirited -action, a range feud between two families, and a Romeo and Juliet -courtship make this a bright, jolly, entertaining story, without a dull -page. - -THE LURE OF DIM TRAILS - -A vivid portrayal of the experience of an Eastern author, among the -cowboys of the West, in search of "local color" for a new novel. "Bud" -Thurston learns many a lesson while following "the lure of the dim -trails" but the hardest, and probably the most welcome, is that of love. - -THE LONESOME TRAIL - -"Weary" Davidson leaves the ranch for Portland, where conventional city -life palls on him. A little branch of sage brush, pungent with the -atmosphere of the prairie, and the recollection of a pair of large brown -eyes soon compel his return. A wholesome love story. - -THE LONG SHADOW - -A vigorous Western story, sparkling with the free, outdoor, life of a -mountain ranch. Its scenes shift rapidly and its actors play the game of -life fearlessly and like men. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at <a -href="http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></p> -<p>Title: Secret Service</p> -<p> Being the Happenings of a Night in Richmond in the Spring of 1865 Done into Book Form from the Play by WIlliam Gillette</p> -<p>Author: Cyrus Townsend Brady</p> -<p>Release Date: January 14, 2014 [eBook #44659]</p> -<p>Language: English</p> -<p>Character set encoding: UTF-8</p> -<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SECRET SERVICE***</p> <p> </p> -<h3 class="nf-center">E-text prepared by Roger Frank<br /> - and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> - (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> <p> </p> <hr class="full" /> <p> </p> @@ -11067,360 +11053,6 @@ start to finish.</p> </table> -<hr class="full" /> -<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SECRET SERVICE***</p> -<p>******* This file should be named 44659-h.txt or 44659-h.zip *******</p> -<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> -<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/4/4/6/5/44659">http://www.gutenberg.org/4/4/6/5/44659</a></p> -<p> -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed.</p> - -<p> -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - - - - -Title: Secret Service - Being the Happenings of a Night in Richmond in the Spring of 1865 Done into Book Form from the Play by WIlliam Gillette - - -Author: Cyrus Townsend Brady - - - -Release Date: January 14, 2014 [eBook #44659] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SECRET SERVICE*** - - -E-text prepared by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed Proofreading -Team (http://www.pgdp.net) - - - -Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this - file which includes the original illustrations. - See 44659-h.htm or 44659-h.zip: - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/44659/44659-h/44659-h.htm) - or - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/44659/44659-h.zip) - - - - - -[Illustration: "If he wanted to fight, he'd hardly be in an office"] - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - -SECRET SERVICE - -Being the Happenings of a Night in Richmond in the Spring of 1865 -Done into Book Form from the Play by William Gillette - -by - -CYRUS TOWNSEND BRADY - -Illustrated by the Kinneys - - - - - - - -New York -Grosset & Dunlap -Publishers - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - -Copyright, 1912, by -Dodd, Mead and Company - -Published, January, 1912 - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - I DEDICATE MY SHARE OF THIS JOINT PRODUCTION - TO - -The many people of the stage, personally known and unknown by me, who -have so often interested, amused, instructed, and inspired me by their -presentations of life in all its infinite variety. They are a much -misunderstood people by the public generally, and I take this occasion -to testify that, in my wide acquaintance with stage people, I have found -them as gentle, as generous, as refined, and as considerate as any group -of people with whom I have associated in my long and varied career. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - PREFACE - -Once upon a time a novel of mine was turned into a play. The dramatist -who prepared the story for stage production sent me a copy of his -efforts toward that end. About the only point of resemblance between his -production and mine was the fact that they both bore the same title, the -hero in each had the same name, and the action in both cases took place -on this earth. - -I was a young author then, and timid. I ventured humbly to enquire why -the drama differed so entirely from the novel; and this ingenious, I -might almost say ingenuous, explanation was vouchsafed me: - -"Well, to tell you the truth, after I had read a chapter or two of your -book, I lost it, and I just wrote the play from my own imagination." - -I do not wish to criticise the results of his efforts, for he has since -proved himself to be a dramatist of skill and ability, but to describe -that particular effort as a dramatisation of my book was absurd. -Incidentally, it was absurd in other ways and, fortunately for the -reputation of both of us, it never saw the light. - -When my dear friends, the publishers, asked me to turn this play into a -novel, I recalled my experience of by-gone days, and the idea flashed -into my mind that here was an opportunity to get even, but I am a -preacher as well as a story-writer, and in either capacity I found I -could not do it. Frankly, I did not want to do it. - -My experience, however, has made me perhaps unduly sensitive, and I -determined, since I had undertaken this work, to make it represent Mr. -Gillette's remarkable and brilliant play as faithfully as I could, and I -have done so. I have used my own words only in those slight changes -necessitated by book presentation instead of production on the stage. I -have entered into as few explanations as possible and have limited my -own discussion of the characters, their motives, and their actions, to -what was absolutely necessary to enable the reader to comprehend. On the -stage much is left to the eye which has to be conveyed by words in a -book, and this is my excuse for even those few digressions that appear. - -I have endeavoured to subordinate my own imagination to that of the -accomplished playwright. I have played something of the part of the old -Greek Chorus which explained the drama, and there has been a touch of -the scene-painter's art in my small contribution to the book. - -Otherwise, I have not felt at liberty to make any departure from the -setting, properties, episodes, actions, or dialogue. Mine has been a -very small share in this joint production. The story and the glory are -Mr. Gillette's, not mine. And I am cheerfully determined that as the -author of the first, he shall have all of the second. - - Cyrus Townsend Brady. - - St. George's Rectory, - Kansas City, Mo., November, 1911. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - -CONTENTS - - BOOK I - WHAT HAPPENED AT EIGHT O'CLOCK - - I The Battery Passes 3 - II A Commission from the President 18 - III Orders to Captain Thorne 34 - IV Miss Mitford's Intervention 49 - V The Unfaithful Servant 69 - VI The Confidence of Edith Varney 86 - - BOOK II - WHAT HAPPENED AT NINE O'CLOCK - - VII Wilfred Writes a Letter 105 - VIII Edith Is Forced to Play the Game 133 - IX The Shot That Killed 154 - - BOOK III - WHAT HAPPENED AT TEN O'CLOCK - - X Caroline Mitford Writes a Despatch 173 - XI Mr. Arrelsford Again Interposes 187 - XII Thorne Takes Charge of the Telegraph 204 - XIII The Tables Are Turned 217 - XIV The Call of the Key 229 - XV Love and Duty at the Touch 247 - - BOOK IV - WHAT HAPPENED AT ELEVEN O'CLOCK - - XVI The Tumult in Human Hearts 261 - XVII Wilfred Plays the Man 271 -XVIII Captain Thorne Justifies Himself 292 - XIX The Drumhead Court-Martial 301 - XX The Last Reprieve 318 - - Afterword 330 - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - BOOK I - - WHAT HAPPENED AT EIGHT O'CLOCK - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - CHAPTER I - - THE BATTERY PASSES - - -Outside, the softness of an April night; the verdure of tree and lawn, -the climbing roses, already far advanced in that southern latitude, -sweetly silvered in the moonlight. Within the great old house apparently -an equal calm. - -Yet, neither within nor without was the night absolutely soundless. Far -away to the southward the cloudless horizon, easily visible from the -slight eminence on which the house stood, was marked by quivering -flashes of lurid light. From time to time, the attentive ear might catch -the roll, the roar, the reverberation of heavy sound like distant -thunder-peals intermingled with sharper detonations. The flashes came -from great guns, and the rolling peals were the sound of the cannon, the -detonations explosions of the shells. There was the peace of God in the -heaven above; there were the passions of men on the earth beneath. - -Lights gleamed here and there, shining through the twining rose foliage, -from the windows of the old house, which stood far back from the street. -From a room on one side of the hall, which opened from the broad -pillared portico of Colonial fashion, a hum of voices arose. - -A group of women, with nervous hands and anxious faces, working while -they talked, were picking lint, tearing linen and cotton for bandages. -Their conversation was not the idle chatter of other days. They "told -sad stories of the death of kings!" How "Tom" and "Charles" and "Allen" -and "Page" and "Burton" had gone down into the Valley of the Shadow of -Death, whence they had not come back. How this fort had been hammered -yesterday, the other, the day before. How So-and-So's wounds had been -ministered to. How Such-a-One's needs had been relieved. How the enemy -were drawing closer and closer and closer, and how they were being held -back with courage, which, alas! by that time was the courage of despair. -And much of their speech was of their own kind, of bereft women and -fatherless children. And ever as they talked, the busy fingers flew. - -Upstairs from one of the front rooms the light shone dimly through a -window partly covered by a half-drawn Venetian blind. One standing at -the side of the house and listening would have heard out of the chamber -low moanings, muttered words from feverish lips and delirious brain. The -meaningless yet awful babble was broken now and again by words of -tenderness and anguish. Soft hands were laid on the burning brow of the -poor sufferer within, while a mother's eyes dropped tears upon -bloodstained bandages and wasted frame. - -And now the gentle wind which swept softly through the trees bore a -sudden sharper, stranger sound toward the old house in the garden. The -tramp of horse, the creak of wheels, the faint jingling of arms and -sabres drew nearer and rose louder. Sudden words of command punctured -the night. Here came a battery, without the rattle of drum or the blare -of bugles, with no sound but its own galloping it rolled down the -street. Lean, gaunt horses were ridden and driven by leaner and gaunter -men in dusty, worn, ragged, tattered uniforms. Only the highly polished -brass guns--twelve-pounder Napoleons--gleamed bright in the moonlight. - -The sewing women came out on the porch and the blind of the window above -was lifted and a white-haired woman stood framed in the light. - -No, those watchers did not cheer as the battery swept by on its way to -the front. For one thing, a soldier lay upstairs dying; for another, -they had passed the time when they cheered that tattered flag. Now they -wept over it as one weeps as he beholds for the last time the face of a -friend who dies. Once they had acclaimed it as the sunrise in the -morning, now they watched it silently go inevitably to the sunset of -defeat. - -The men did not cheer either. They were not past cheering--oh, no! They -were made of rougher stuff than the women, and the time would come when, -in final action, they would burst forth into that strange, wild yell -that struck terror to the hearts of the hearers. They could cheer even -in the last ditch, even in the jaws of death--face the end better for -their cheering perhaps; but women are more silent in the crisis. They -bear and give no tongue. - -The officer in command saw the little group of women on the porch. The -moonlight shone from the street side and high-lighted them, turning the -rusty black of most of the gowns, home-dyed mourning,--all that could be -come at in those last awful days in Richmond,--into soft shadows, above -which their faces shone angelic. He saw the woman's head in the window, -too. He knew who lay upon the bed of death within the chamber. He had -helped to bring him back from the front several days before. He bit his -lips for a moment and then, ashamed of his emotion, his voice rang -harsh. With arm and sabre the battery saluted the women and passed on, -while from the window of the great drawing-room, opposite the room of -the lint-pickers and bandage-tearers, a slender boy stared and stared -after the disappearing guns, his eyes full of envy and vexatious tears -as he stamped his foot in futile protest and disappointment. - -The noise made by the passing cannon soon died away in the distance. -Stillness supervened as before; workers whispered together, realising -that some of those passing upon whom they had looked would pass no more, -and that they would look upon them never again. Upstairs the moans of -the wounded man had died away, the only thing that persisted was the -fearful thundering of the distant guns around beleaguered Petersburg. -Within the drawing-room, the boy walked up and down restlessly, -muttering to himself, evidently nerving himself to desperate resolution. - -"I won't do it," he said. "I won't stay here any longer." - -He threw up his hands and turned to the portraits that adorned the room, -portraits that carried one back through centuries to the days of the -first cavalier of the family, who crossed the seas to seek his fortune -in a new land, and it was a singular thing that practically every one of -them wore a sword. - -"You all fought," said the boy passionately, "and I am going to." - -The door at the other end was softly opened. The great room was but -dimly lighted by candles in sconces on the wall; the great chandelier -was not lighted for lack of tapers, but a more brilliant radiance was -presently cast over the apartment by the advent of old Martha. She had -been the boy's "Mammy" and the boy's father's "Mammy" as well, and no -one dared to speculate how much farther into the past she ran back. - -"Is dat you, Mars Wilfred?" said the old woman, waddling into the room, -both hands extended, bearing two many-branched candle-sticks, which she -proceeded to deposit upon the handsome mahogany tables with which the -long drawing-room was furnished. - -"Yes, it is I, Aunt Martha. Did you see Benton's Battery go by?" - -"Lawd lub you, chile, Ah done seed so many guns an' hosses an' soljahs -a-gwine by Ah don't tek no notice ob 'em no mo'. 'Peahs lak dey keep on -a-passin' by fo'ebah." - -"Well, there won't be many more of them pass by," said the boy in a -clear accent, but with that soft intonation which would have betrayed -his Southern ancestry anywhere, "and before they are all gone, I would -like to join one of them myself." - -"Why, my po' li'l lamb!" exclaimed Martha, her arms akimbo, "dat Ah done -nussed in dese ahms, is you gwine to de fight!" - -The boy's demeanour was anything but lamb-like. He made a fierce step -toward her. - -"Don't you call me 'lamb' any more," he said, "it's ridiculous and----" - -Mammy Martha started back in alarm. - -"'Peahs mo' lak a lion'd be better," she admitted. - -"Where's mother?" asked the boy, dismissing the subject as unworthy of -argument. - -"I reckon she's upstaihs wid Mars Howard, suh. Yo' bruddah----" - -"I want to see her right away," continued the boy impetuously. - -"Mars Howard he's putty bad dis ebenin'," returned Martha. "Ah bettah go -an' tell her dat you want her, but Ah dunno's she'd want to leab him." - -"Well, you tell her to come as soon as she can. I'm awfully sorry for -Howard, but it's living men that the Confederacy needs most now." - -"Yas, suh," returned the old nurse, with a quizzical look out of her -black eyes at the slender boy before her. "Dey suah does need men," she -continued, and as the youngster took a passionate step toward her, she -deftly passed out of the room and closed the door behind her, and he -could hear her ponderous footsteps slowly and heavily mounting the -steps. - -The boy went to the window again and stared into the night. In his -preoccupation he did not catch the sound of a gentler footfall upon the -stairs, nor did he notice the opening of the door and the silent -approach of a woman, the woman with white hair who had stood at the -window. The mother of a son dead, a son dying, and a son living. No -distinctive thing that in the Confederacy. Almost any mother who had -more than one boy could have been justly so characterised. She stopped -half-way down the room and looked lovingly and longingly at the slight, -graceful figure of her youngest son. Her eyes filled with tears--for the -dying or the living or both? Who can say? She went toward him, laid her -hand on his shoulder. He turned instantly and at the sight of her tears -burst out quickly: - -"Howard isn't worse, is he?" for a moment forgetful of all else. - -The woman shook her head. - -"I am afraid he is. The sound of that passing battery seemed to excite -him so. He thought he was at the front again and wanted to get up." - -"Poor old Howard!" - -"He's quieter now, perhaps----" - -"Mother, is there anything I can do for him?" - -"No, my son," answered the woman with a sigh, "I don't think there is -anything that anybody can do. We can only wait--and hope. He is in God's -hands, not ours." - -She lifted her face for a moment and saw beyond the room, through the -night, and beyond the stars a Presence Divine, to Whom thousands of -other women in that dying Confederacy made daily, hourly, and momentary -prayers. Less exalted, more human, less touched, the boy bowed his head, -not without his own prayer, too. - -"But you wanted to see me, Wilfred, Martha said," the woman presently -began. - -"Yes, mother, I----" - -The boy stopped and the woman was in no hurry to press him. She divined -what was coming and would fain have avoided it all. - -"I am thankful there is a lull in the cannonading," she said, listening. -"I wonder why it has stopped?" - -"It has not stopped," said Wilfred, "at least it has gone on all -evening." - -"I don't hear it now." - -"No, but you will--there!" - -"Yes, but compared to what it was yesterday--you know how it shook the -house--and Howard suffered so through it." - -"So did I," said the boy in a low voice fraught with passion. - -"You, my son?" - -"Yes, mother, when I hear those guns and know that the fighting is going -on, it fairly maddens me----" - -But Mrs. Varney hastily interrupted her boy. Woman-like she would thrust -from her the decision which she knew would be imposed upon her. - -"Yes, yes," she said; "I know how you suffered,--we all suffered, -we----" She turned away, sat down in a chair beside the table, leaned -her head in her hands, and gave way to her emotions. "There has been -nothing but suffering, suffering since this awful war began," she -murmured. - -"Mother," said Wilfred abruptly, "I want to speak to you. You don't like -it, of course, but you have just got to listen this time." - -Mrs. Varney lifted her head from her hands. Wilfred came nearer to her -and dropped on his knees by her side. One hand she laid upon his -shoulder, the other on his head. She stared down into his up-turned -face. - -"I know--I know, my boy--what you want." - -"I can't stay here any longer," said the youth; "it is worse than being -shot to pieces. I just have to chain myself to the floor whenever I hear -a cannon-shot or see a soldier. When can I go?" - -The woman stared at him. In him she saw faintly the face of the boy -dying upstairs. In him she saw the white face of the boy who lay under -the sun and dew, dead at Seven Pines. In him she saw all her kith and -kin, who, true to the traditions of that house, had given up their lives -for a cause now practically lost. She could not give up the last one. -She drew him gently to her, but, boy-like, he disengaged himself and -drew away with a shake of his head, not that he loved his mother the -less, but honour--as he saw it--the more. - -"Why don't you speak?" he whispered at last. - -"I don't know what to say to you, Wilfred," faltered his mother, -although there was but one thing to say, and she knew that she must say -it, yet she was fighting, woman-like, for time. - -"I will tell you what to say," said the boy. - -"What?" - -"Say that you won't mind if I go down to Petersburg and enlist." - -"But that would not be true, Wilfred," said his mother, smiling faintly. - -"True or not, mother, I can't stay here." - -"Oh, Wilfred, Russell has gone, and Howard is going, and now you want to -go and get killed." - -"I don't want to be killed at all, mother." - -"But you are so young, my boy." - -"Not younger than Tom Kittridge," answered the boy; "not younger than -Ell Stuart or Cousin Steven or hundreds of other boys down there. See, -mother--they have called for all over eighteen, weeks ago; the seventeen -call may be out any moment; the next one after that takes me. Do you -want me to stay here until I am ordered out! I should think not. Where's -your pride?" - -"My pride? Ah, my son, it is on the battlefield, over at Seven Pines, -and upstairs with Howard." - -"Well, I don't care, mother," he persisted obstinately. "I love you and -all that, you know it,--but I can't stand this. I've got to go. I must -go." - -Mrs. Varney recognised from the ring of determination in the boy's voice -that his mind was made up. She could no longer hold him. With or without -her consent he would go, and why should she withhold it? Other boys as -young as hers had gone and had not come back. Aye, there was the rub: -she had given one, the other trembled on the verge, and now the last -one! Yes, he must go, too,--to live or die as God pleased. If they -wanted her to sacrifice everything on the altar of her country, she had -her own pride, she would do it, as hundreds of other women had done. She -rose from her chair and went toward her boy. He was a slender lad of -sixteen but was quite as tall as she. As he stood there he looked -strangely like his father, thought the woman. - -"Well," she said at last, "I will write to your father and----" - -"But," the boy interrupted in great disappointment, "that'll take -forever. You never can tell where his brigade is from day to day. I -can't wait for you to do that." - -"Wilfred," said his mother, "I can't let you go without his consent. You -must be patient. I will write the letter at once, and we will send it by -a special messenger. You ought to hear by to-morrow." - -The boy turned away impatiently and strode toward the door. - -"Wilfred," said his mother gently. The tender appeal in her voice -checked him. She came over to him and put her arm about his shoulders. -"Don't feel bad, my boy, that you have to stay another day with your -mother. It may be many days, you know, before----" - -"It isn't that," said Wilfred. - -"My darling boy--I know it. You want to fight for your country--and I'm -proud of you. I want my sons to do their duty. But with your father at -the front, one boy dead, and the other wounded, dying----" - -She turned away. - -"You will write father to-night, won't you?" - -"Yes--yes!" - -"I'll wait, then, until we have had time to get a reply," said the boy. - -"Yes, and then you will go away. I know what your father's answer will -be. The last of my boys--Oh, God, my boys!" - - - - - CHAPTER II - - A COMMISSION FROM THE PRESIDENT - - -The door giving entrance to the hall was opened unceremoniously by the -rotund and privileged Martha. She came at an opportune time, relieving -the tension between the mother and son. Wilfred was not insensible to -his mother's feelings, but he was determined to go to the front. He was -glad of the interruption and rather shamefacedly took advantage of it by -leaving the room. - -"Well, Martha, what is it?" asked Mrs. Varney, striving to regain her -composure. - -"Deys one ob de men fum de hossiple heah, ma'am." - -"Another one?" - -"Ah 'clah to goodness, ma'am, dey jes' keeps a-comin' an' a-comin'. -'Peahs like we cain't keep no close fo' ourse'f; de sheets an' -tablecloths an' napkins an' eben de young misstess' petticoats, dey all -hab to go." - -"And we have just sent all the bandages we have," said Mrs. Varney, -smiling. - -"Den we got to git some mo'. Dey says dey's all used up, an' two mo' -trains jes' come in crowded full o' wounded sojahs--an' mos' all ob 'em -dreffeul bad!" - -"Is Miss Kittridge here yet, Martha?" - -"Yas'm, Ah jes' seed her goin' thu de hall into de libr'y." - -"Ask her if they have anything to send. Even if it's only a little let -them have it. What they need most is bandages. There are some in -Howard's room, too. Give them half of what you find there. I think what -we have left will last long enough to--to----" - -"Yas'm," said old Martha, sniffing. "Ah'm a-gwine. Does you want to see -de man?" - -"Yes, send him in," said Mrs. Varney. - -There was a light tap on the door after Martha went out. - -"Come in," said the mistress of the house, and there entered to her a -battered and dilapidated specimen of young humanity, his arm in a sling. -"My poor man!" exclaimed Mrs. Varney. "Sit down." - -"Thank you, ma'am." - -"Martha," she called to the old woman, who paused at the door on her way -to the stairs, "can't you get something to eat and drink for this -gentleman?" - -"Well, the pantry ain't obahflowin', as you know, Mrs. Varney. But Ah -reckon Ah might fin' a glass o' milk ef Ah jes' had to." - -"All our wine has gone long ago," said Mrs. Varney to the soldier, "but -if a glass of milk----" - -"I haven't seen a glass of milk for three years, ma'am," answered the -man, smiling; "it would taste like nectar." - -"Martha will set it for you in the dining-room while you are waiting. -What hospital did you come from, by the way?" - -"The Winder, ma'am." - -"And is it full?" - -"They are laying them on blankets on the floor. You can hardly step for -wounded men." - -"I suppose you need everything?" - -"Everything, but especially bandages." - -"Have you been over to St. Paul's Church? The ladies are working there -to-night." - -"Yes, ma'am, I've been over there, but they're not working for the -hospital; they're making sand-bags for fortifications." - -"And where are you from?" - -"I'm a Louisiana Tiger, ma'am," answered the man proudly. - -"You don't look much like it now," said the woman, smiling. - -"No, I guess the lamb is more like me now, but just wait until I get -well enough to go to the front again," admitted the soldier cheerfully. - -At this moment one of the ladies who had been working in the other room -came in carrying a small packet of bandages done up in a coarse brown -paper. - -"Oh, Miss Kittridge," said Mrs. Varney, "here is the gentleman who----" - -Miss Kittridge was a very business-like person. - -"This is every scrap we have," she said, handing the soldier the parcel -with a little bow. "If you will come back in an hour or two, perhaps we -shall have more for you." - -"Thank you, ladies, and God bless you. I don't know what our poor -fellows in the hospitals would do if it weren't for you." - -"Don't forget your milk in the dining-room," said Mrs. Varney. - -"I'm not likely to, ma'am," returned the soldier, as, in spite of his -wounded arm, he bowed gracefully to the women. - -In the hall Martha's voice could be heard exclaiming: - -"Come right dis way, you po' chile, an' see what Ah's got fo' you in de -dinin'-room." - -"You must be tired to death," said Mrs. Varney to Miss Kittridge, -looking at the white face of the other woman. Her brother had been -killed a few days before, but the clods had scarcely rattled down upon -his coffin before she was energetically at work again--for other women's -brothers. - -"No, no," she said bravely; "and our tiredness is nothing compared to -the weariness of our men. We are going to stay late to-night, Mrs. -Varney, if you will let us. There's so many more wounded come in it -won't do to stop now. We have found some old linen that will make -splendid bandages, and----" - -"My dear girl," said the matron, "stay as long as you possibly can. I -will see if Martha can't serve you something to eat after a while. I -don't believe there is any tea left in the house." - -"Bread and butter will be a feast," said Miss Kittridge. - -"And I don't believe there is much butter either," smiled the older -woman. - -"Well, it doesn't matter," said the other. "Is--is your son--is there -any change?" - -"Not for the better," was the reply. "I am afraid his fever is -increasing." - -"And has the surgeon seen him this evening?" - -"Not to-night." - -"Why not!" exclaimed Miss Kittridge in great surprise. "Surely his -condition is sufficiently critical to demand more than one brief visit -in the morning." - -"I can't ask him to come twice with so many waiting for him," said Mrs. -Varney. - -"But they would not refuse you, Mrs. Varney," said Miss Kittridge -quickly. "There's that man going back to the hospital, he's in the -dining-room yet. I'll call him and send word that----" - -She started impulsively toward the door, but Mrs. Varney caught her by -the arm. - -"No," she said firmly; "I can't let you." - -"Not for your own son?" - -"I am thinking of the sons of other mothers. The surgeon has done all -that he can for him. And think how many other sons would have to be -neglected if he visited mine twice. He will come again to-morrow." - -The second woman stood looking at her in mingled sympathy and amazement, -and there was a touch of pride in her glance, too. She was proud of her -sex, and she had a right to be there in Richmond that spring, if ever. - -"I understand," said Miss Kittridge at last. "I suppose you are right." - -They stared at each other, white-faced, a moment, when there entered to -them youth and beauty incarnate. There was enough resemblance between -the pale, white-haired mother and the girlish figure in the doorway to -proclaim their relationship. The girl's cheek had lost some of its bloom -and some of its roundness. There was too much that was appalling and -fearful in and about Richmond then not to leave its mark even upon the -most youthful and the most buoyant, yet things did not come home to the -young as they did to those older. She was still a lovely picture, -especially in the soft radiance of the candles. She carried her hat in -her hand. The flowers upon it were assuredly those of yester-year, it -would not have passed muster as the mode anywhere except in besieged -Richmond; and her dress, although it fitted her perfectly, was worn and -faded and had been turned and patched and altered until it was quite -beyond further change, yet she wore it as airily as if it had been -tissue of silver or cloth of gold. - -The mother's face brightened. - -"Edith dear," she exclaimed, "how late you are! It is after eight -o'clock. You must be tired out." - -"I am not tired at all," answered the girl cheerily. "I have not been at -the hospital all afternoon; this is my day off. How is Howard?" - -"I wish I could say just the same, but he seems a little worse." - -The girl's face went suddenly grave. She stepped over to her mother, -took her hand and patted it softly. - -"Is there nothing you can do?" - -"My dear," said her mother, "Howard--we--are all in God's hands." - -She drew a long breath and lifted her head bravely. - -"Miss Kittridge," said the girl, "I have something very important to -tell mother, and----" - -Miss Kittridge smiled back at her. - -"I am going right away, honey. There is lots of work for us to do -and----" - -"You don't mind, I hope," said Edith Varney, calling after her as she -went into the hall. - -"No, indeed," was the reply. - -Mrs. Varney sat down wearily by the table, and Edith pulled up a low -stool and sat at her feet. - -"Well, my dear?" - -"Mamma--what do you think? What do you think?" - -"I think a great many things," said Mrs. Varney, "but----" - -"Yes, but you wouldn't ever think of this." - -"Certainly I shall not, unless you tell me." - -"Well, I have been to see the President." - -"The President--Mr. Davis!" - -"Yes." - -"And what did you go to see the President for?" - -"I asked him for an appointment for Captain Thorne." - -"For Captain Thorne! My dear----" - -"Yes, mother, for the War Department Telegraph Service. And he gave it -to me, a special commission. He gave it to me for father's sake and for -Captain Thorne's sake,--he has met him and likes him,--and for my own." - -"What sort of an appointment?" - -"Appointing him to duty here in Richmond, a very important position. He -won't be sent to the front, and he will be doing his duty just the -same." - -"But, Edith, you don't--you can't----" - -"Yes, it will, mother. The President,--I just love him,--told me they -needed a man who understood telegraphing and who was of high enough rank -to take charge of the service. As you know, most of the telegraph -operators are privates, and Captain Thorne is an expert. Since he's been -here in Richmond he's helped them in the telegraph office often. -Lieutenant Foray told me so." - -Mrs. Varney rose and moved away. Edith followed her. - -"Now, mamma!" she exclaimed; "I feel you are going to scold me, and you -must not, because it's all fixed and the commission will be sent over -here in a few minutes--just as soon as it can be made out--and when it -comes I am going to give it to him myself." - -Mrs. Varney moved over toward the table and lifted a piece of paper, -evidently a note. - -"He is coming this evening," she said. - -"How do you know?" asked her daughter. - -"Well, for one thing," said her mother, "I can remember very few -evenings when he hasn't been here since he was able to walk out of the -hospital." - -"Mamma!" - -"And for another thing, this note came about half an hour ago." - -"Is it for me?" - -"For me, my dear, else I shouldn't have opened it. You can read it, if -you like." - -"Has it been here all this time?" exclaimed Edith jealously. - -"All this time. You will see what he says. This will be his last call; -he has his orders to leave." - -"Why, it's too ridiculous!" said the girl; "just as if the commission -from the President wouldn't supersede everything else. It puts him at -the head of the Telegraph Service. He will be in command of the -Department. He says it is a good-bye call, does he?" She looked at the -note again and laughed, "All the better, it will be that much more of a -surprise. Now, mamma, don't you breathe a word about it, I want to tell -him myself." - -"But, Edith dear--I am sorry to criticise you--but I don't at all -approve of your going to the President about this. It doesn't seem quite -the proper thing for a young lady to interest herself so far----" - -"But listen, mamma," and as she spoke the light went out of Miss Edith's -face at her mother's grave and somewhat reproving aspect. "I couldn't go -to the War Department people. Mr. Arrelsford is there in one of the -offices, and ever since I--I refused him, you know how he has treated -me! If I had applied for anything there, it would have been refused at -once, and he would have got them to order Captain Thorne away right off. -I know he would--why, that is where his orders came from!" - -"But, my dear----" - -"That is where they came from. Isn't it lucky I got that commission -to-day. There's the bell; I wonder who it can be?" She stopped and -listened while the door opened and Jonas, the butler, entered. "Is it -Captain Thorne?" asked Edith eagerly. - -"No, ma'am." - -"Oh!" - -"It's another offisuh, ma'am. He says he's fum de President an' he's got -to see Miss Edith pussonally." - -Jonas extended a card which, as he spoke, Edith took and glanced at -indifferently. - -"Lieutenant Maxwell," she read. - -"Ask the gentleman in, Jonas," said Mrs. Varney. - -"It's come," whispered Edith to her mother. - -"Do you know who he is?" - -"No--but he's from the President--it must be that commission." - -At this moment old Jonas ushered into the drawing-room a very dashing -young officer, handsome in face, gallant in bearing, and dressed in a -showy and perfectly fitting uniform, which was quite a contrast to the -worn habiliments of the men at the front. Mrs. Varney stepped forward a -little, and Lieutenant Maxwell bowed low before her. - -"Good-evening, ma'am. Have I the honour of addressing Miss Varney?" - -"I am Mrs. Varney, sir." - -"Madam," said the Lieutenant, "I am very much afraid this looks like an -intrusion on my part, but I come from the President, and he desires me -to see Miss Varney personally." - -"Any one from the President could not be otherwise than welcome, sir. -This is my daughter. Edith, let me present Lieutenant Maxwell." - -The young Lieutenant, greatly impressed, bowed profoundly before her, -and taking a large brown envelope from his belt, handed it to her. - -"Miss Varney," he said, "the President directed me to deliver this into -your hands, with his compliments. He is glad to be able to do this, he -says, not only at your request, but because of your father and for the -merits of the gentleman in question." - -"Oh, thank you," cried the girl, taking the envelope. - -"Won't you be seated, Lieutenant Maxwell?" said Mrs. Varney. - -"Yes, do," urged the girl, holding the envelope pressed very tightly to -her side. - -"Nothing would please me so much, ladies," answered the Lieutenant, "but -I must go back to the President's house right away. I'm on duty this -evening. Would you mind writing me off a line or two, Miss Varney, just -to say you have received the communication?" - -"Why, certainly, you want a receipt. I'll go upstairs to my desk; it -won't take a moment. And could I put in how much I thank him for his -kindness?" - -"I am sure he would be more than, pleased," smiled Lieutenant Maxwell, -as Edith left the room and hastened up the stairs. - -"We haven't heard so much cannonading to-day, Lieutenant," said Mrs. -Varney. "Do you know what it means?" - -"I don't think they are quite positive, ma'am, but they can't help -looking for a violent attack to follow." - -"I don't see why it should quiet down before an assault." - -"Well, there is always a calm before a storm," said the Lieutenant. "It -might be some signal, or it might be they are moving their batteries to -open on some special point of attack. They are trying every way to break -through our defences, you know." - -"It's very discouraging. We can't seem to drive them back this time." - -"We're holding them where they are, though," said Maxwell proudly. -"They'll never get in unless they do it by some scurvy trick; that's -where the danger lies. We are always looking out for it, and----" - -At this moment Edith Varney reentered the room. She had left her hat -upstairs with the official-looking envelope, and had taken time to -glance at a mirror and then to thrust a red rose in her dark hair. The -impressionable young Lieutenant thought she looked prettier than ever. - -"Lieutenant Maxwell," she said, extending a folded paper, "here is your -receipt----" - -The butler's words to some one in the hall interrupted her further -speech. - -"Will you jes' kin'ly step dis way, suh!" she heard Jonas say, and as -Edith turned she found herself face to face with Captain Thorne! - - - - - CHAPTER III - - ORDERS TO CAPTAIN THORNE - - -On the sleeves of Captain Thorne's coat the insignia of a Captain of -Confederate Artillery were displayed; his uniform was worn, soiled, and -ill-fitting, giving honourable evidence of hard service; his face was -pale and thin and showed signs of recent illness, from which he had -scarcely recovered. In every particular he was a marked contrast to -Lieutenant Maxwell. - -"Miss Varney," he said, bowing low. - -"We were expecting you," answered Edith, giving her hand to Thorne. -"Here's Captain Thorne, mamma!" - -Mrs. Varney shook hands with him graciously while her daughter turned -once more to the other man, with the acknowledgment of the order, which -she handed to him. - -"I wasn't so very long writing it, was I, Lieutenant Maxwell?" she -asked. - -"I've never seen a quicker piece of work, Miss Varney," returned that -young man, putting the note in his belt and smiling as he did so. "When -you want a clerkship over at the Government offices, you must surely let -me know." - -"You would better not commit yourself," said Edith jestingly; "I might -take you at your word." - -"Nothing would please me more," was the prompt answer. "All you have got -to do is just apply, and refer to me, of course." - -"Lots of the other girls are doing it," continued Edith half-seriously. -"They have to live. Aren't there a good many where you are?" - -"Well, we don't have so many as they do over at the Treasury. I believe -there are more ladies over there than men. And now I must go." - -"A moment," said Mrs. Varney, coming forward with Thorne. "Do you -gentlemen know each other?" - -Captain Thorne shook his head and stepped forward, looking intently at -the other. - -"Let me have the pleasure of making you acquainted, then. Captain -Thorne--Lieutenant Maxwell." - -Thorne slowly inclined his head. Maxwell also bowed. - -"I have not had the pleasure of meeting Captain Thorne before, although -I have heard of him a great many times," he said courteously. - -"Yes?" answered the other, who seemed to be a man of few words. - -"In fact, Captain, there is a gentleman in one of our offices who seems -mighty anxious to pick a fight with you." - -"Really!" exclaimed Captain Thorne, smiling somewhat sarcastically; -"pick a fight with me! To what office do you refer, sir?" - -"The War Office, sir," said Lieutenant Maxwell, rather annoyed, he could -not exactly say why. - -"Dear, dear!" continued Thorne urbanely; "I didn't suppose there was -anybody in the War Office who wanted to fight!" - -"And why not, sir?" asked Lieutenant Maxwell haughtily, while Edith -barely stifled a laugh, and her mother even smiled. - -"Well, if he wanted to fight, he'd hardly be in an office at a time like -this, would he?" - -Captain Thorne's sarcasm seemed to perturb the youngster, but his good -breeding got the better of his annoyance. - -"I'd better not tell him that, Captain," he said with a great effort at -lightness; "he would certainly insist upon having you out." - -"That would be too bad," said the Captain. "It might interfere with his -office hours and----" - -"He doesn't believe it, Miss Varney," said Maxwell, turning to the -younger woman, "but it is certainly true. I dare say you know the -gentleman----" - -"Please don't, Lieutenant," interrupted Edith quickly. "I would rather -not talk about it, if you please." - -"Of course," said Maxwell, "I didn't know there was anything----" - -"Yes," said Edith. "Let's talk about something else. You know there is -always the weather to fall back on----" - -"I should say so," laughed the Lieutenant, "and mighty bad weather for -us, too." - -"Yes, isn't it?" - -They turned away, talking and laughing somewhat constrainedly, while -Mrs. Varney picked up the note that was still lying on the table. - -"From your note, I suppose you are leaving us immediately, Captain -Thorne. Your orders have come?" - -"Yes, Mrs. Varney," said the Captain. "I am afraid this must be the last -of my pleasant calls." - -"Isn't it rather sudden? Are you quite well? It seems to me they ought -to give you a little more time to recover." - -"I have no doubt that I am, or feel, much better than I look," said the -Captain, "and we have to be ready for anything, you know. I have been -idle too long already." - -"Yes, I suppose so," said Mrs. Varney. "Well, it has been a great -pleasure to have you call upon us. When you are away, we shall greatly -miss your visits." - -"Thank you; I shall never forget what they have been to me." - -"Lieutenant Maxwell is going, mamma," said Edith. - -"So soon! Please excuse me a moment, Captain. I am very sorry you have -to hurry away, Lieutenant; we shall hope for the pleasure of seeing you -again, if your duties permit." - -"I shall certainly avail myself of your invitation, if you will allow -me." He saluted Captain Thorne. "Good-evening, sir." - -Thorne, of course, returned the courteous salute of his junior. - -"Lieutenant Maxwell," he said pleasantly, as Mrs. Varney followed -Lieutenant Maxwell into the hall. - -"Now remember, you are to come some time when duty doesn't call you away -so soon," she said, as he bowed himself out. - -"Trust me not to forget that, Mrs. Varney," said the Lieutenant, as he -disappeared on the porch. - -Captain Thorne and Edith were left alone. The girl stepped over to a -small table on which stood a vase of roses, and, with somewhat nervous -hands, she busied herself arranging them. The young officer watched her -in silence for a little while, the moments tense with emotion. - -"Shall I see Mrs. Varney again?" he began at last. - -"Oh, I suppose so, but not now. I heard her go upstairs to Howard." - -"How is he?" - -"Desperately ill." - -"I am sorry." - -"Yes," said the girl. - -"I have a very little time to stay and----" - -"Oh--not long?" asked Edith. - -"No, I am sorry to say." - -"Well, do you know," she looked at him archly, "I believe you will have -more time than you really think you have. It would be odd if it came out -that way, wouldn't it?" she continued, as she played with the flower in -her hand. - -"Yes, but it won't come out that way," said Thorne, as he stepped closer -to her. - -"You don't know," she faltered, as Thorne drew the flower from her and -took her hand in his. They stood there quiet a moment, and she did not -draw her hand away. "Well, it makes no difference how soon you are going -away; you can sit down in the meantime if you want to." - -"It is hardly worth while," he said; "my time is so short." - -"You would better," interrupted the girl; "I have a great many things to -say to you." - -"Have you?" he asked, sitting down on the little sofa by her side in -compliance with her invitation. - -"Yes." - -"But I have only one thing to say to you--Miss Varney and--that -is"--Thorne took her other hand in both of his--"good-bye." - -Very different words had trembled on his lips, as he knew and as the -girl knew. - -"But I don't really think you will have to say that, Captain Thorne," -said Edith slowly. - -"I know I will." - -"Then," said Edith more softly, "it will be because you want to say it." - -"No," said Thorne, resolutely and of his own motion releasing her hands, -which she had allowed him to hold without remonstrance; "it will be -because I must." - -He rose to his feet and took up his hat from the table as if, the thing -being settled, he had only to go. But the girl observed with secret joy -that he made no other effort at departure. - -"Oh, you think you must, do you, Captain Thorne?" said Edith, looking up -at him mischievously. "You are a very wise person, but you don't know -all that I know." - -"I think that is more than likely, Miss Varney, but won't you tell me -some of the things that you know that I don't, so that I can approach -your knowledge in that respect?" - -"I wouldn't mind telling you one thing, and that is that it is very -wrong for you to think of leaving Richmond now." - -"Oh, but you don't know." - -"Yes, I do." - -"Well, what do you know?" asked Thorne curiously. - -"Whatever you were going to say. Most likely it was that there's -something or other I don't know about, but I do know this. You were sent -here to recover, and you haven't nearly had enough time for it yet." - -"I do look as if a high wind would blow me away, don't I?" he laughed. - -"No matter how you look, you ought not to go. You are just making fun of -it, as you always do of everything. No matter, you can have all the fun -you like, but the whole thing is settled; you are not going away at all, -you are going to stay here," she concluded with most decided but winning -emphasis. - -"Oh, I'm not going? Well, that is quite a change for me," said Thorne -composedly. He laid his hat back on the table and came closer to Edith. -"Perhaps you wouldn't mind telling me what I am going to do." - -"I don't mind at all, and it is this. You see, I have been to see--I am -almost afraid to tell you." - -"Don't tell me," said the man with sudden seriousness, laying aside all -his pleasantry, "because it can't be true. I have my orders, and I am -leaving to-night." - -"Where--to Petersburg--to the front?" - -"We can't always tell where orders will take us," he said evasively, -again sitting down beside her on the lounge. - -He could scarcely tear himself away from her, from the delicious yet -painful emotion aroused by her presence. He ought to have gone long -since, yet he was with her, as he supposed, for the last time. Surely he -might indulge himself a little. He loved her so desperately, so -hopelessly. - -"But listen," said the girl; "supposing there were other orders, orders -from a higher authority, appointing you to duty here?" - -"It would not make any difference." - -"You don't mean you would go in spite of them!" cried the girl in sudden -alarm. - -Thorne looked at her gravely and nodded his head. - -"But if it were proved that your first orders were a mistake----" - -She stretched out her hand toward him, which Thorne clasped closely -again. - -"But it wasn't a mistake, and I must go," he said slowly, rising to his -feet once more, but still holding her hand. - -"Is it something dangerous?" asked the girl apprehensively. - -"Oh, well, enough to make it interesting." - -But Edith did not respond to his well simulated humour. She drew her -hand away, and Thorne fancied with a leap of his heart that she did it -with reluctance. She began softly: - -"Don't be angry with me if I ask you again about your orders. I must -know." - -"But why?" asked Thorne curiously. - -"No matter, tell me." - -"I can't do that. I wish I could," he answered with a slight sigh. - -"You needn't," said the girl triumphantly; "I do know." - -The Captain started and, in spite of his control, a look of dismay and -apprehension flitted across his face as the girl went on: - -"They're sending you on some mission where death is almost certain. They -will sacrifice your life, because they know you are fearless and will do -anything. There is a chance for you to stay here, and be just as much -use, and I am going to ask you to take it. It isn't your life -alone--there are--others to think of and--that's why I ask you. It may -not sound well, perhaps I ought not--you won't understand, but you----" - -As she spoke she rose to her feet, confronting him, while she -impulsively thrust out her hand toward him again. Once more he took that -beloved hand in his own, holding it close against him. Burning avowals -sprang to his lips, and the colour flamed into her face as she stood -motionless and expectant, looking at him. She had gone as far as a -modest woman might. Now the initiative was his. She could only wait. - -"No," said the man at last, by the exercise of the most iron -self-control and repression, "you shall not have this against me, too." - -Edith drew closer to him, leaving her hand in his as she placed her -other on his shoulder. She thought she knew what he would have said. And -love gave her courage. The frankness of war was in the air. If this man -left her now, she might never see him again. She was a woman, but she -could not let him go without an effort. - -"Against you! What against you? What do you mean?" she asked softly. - -The witchery of the hour was upon him, too, and the sweetness of her -presence. He knew he had but to speak to receive his answer, to summon -the fortress and receive the surrender. Her eyes dropped before his -passionately searching look, her colour came and went, her bosom rose -and fell. She thought he must certainly hear the wild beating of her -heart. He pressed her hands closely to his breast for a moment, but -quickly pulled himself together again. - -"I must go," he said hoarsely; "my business is--elsewhere. I ought never -to have seen you or spoken to you, but I had to come to this house and -you were here, and how could I help it? Oh--I couldn't for my -whole--it's only you in this----" He stopped and thrust her hands away -from him blindly and turned away. As there was a God above him he would -not do it. "Your mother--I would like to say good-bye to her." - -"No, you are not going," cried the girl desperately, playing her last -card. "Listen, they need you in Richmond: the President told me so -himself--your orders are to stay here. You are to be given a special -commission on the War Department Telegraph Service, and you----" - -"No, no, I won't take it--I can't take it, Miss Varney." - -"Can't you do that much for--me?" said the girl with winning sweetness, -and again she put out her hands to him. - -"It is for you that I will do nothing of the kind," he answered quickly; -"if you ever think of me again after--well, when I am gone, remember -that I refused." - -"But you can't refuse; it is the President's desire, it is his order, -you have got to obey. Wait a moment, I left it upstairs. I will fetch it -for you and you will see." - -She turned toward the door. - -"No," said Thorne, "don't get it, I won't look at it." - -"But you must see what it is. It puts you at the head of everything. You -have entire control. When you see it I know you will accept it. Please -wait." - -"No, Miss Varney, I can't----" - -"Oh, yes, you can," cried Edith, who would hear no denial as she ran -swiftly toward the door. - - - - - CHAPTER IV - - MISS MITFORD'S INTERVENTION - - -The Captain stared after her departing figure; he listened to her -footfalls on the stair, and then came to an instant resolution. He would -take advantage of her opportune withdrawal. He turned back to the table, -seized his hat, and started for the door, only to come face to face with -another charming young woman, who stood breathless before him to his -great and ill-concealed annoyance. Yet the newcomer was pretty enough -and young enough and sweet enough to give any man pause for the sheer -pleasure of looking at her, to say nothing of speaking to her. - -The resources of an ancient wardrobe, that looked as though it had -belonged to her great-grandmother, had been called upon for a costume -which was quaint and old-fashioned and altogether lovely. She was -evidently much younger than Edith Varney, perhaps just sixteen, -Wilfred's age. With outstretched arms she barred the door completely, -and Thorne, of course, came to an abrupt stop. - -"Oh, good-evening," she panted, as soon as she found speech; she had run -without stopping from her house across the street. - -"Good-evening, Miss Mitford," he answered, stepping to one side to let -her pass, but through calculation or chance she kept her position at the -door. - -"How lucky this is!" she continued. "You are the very person I wanted to -see. Let's sit down and then I'll tell you all about it. Goodness me, I -am all out of breath just running over from our house." - -Thorne did not accept her invitation, but stood looking at her. An idea -came to him. - -"Miss Mitford," he said at last, stepping toward her, "will you do -something for me?" - -"Of course I will." - -"Thank you very much, indeed. Just tell Miss Varney when she comes -down--just say good-night for me and tell her that I've gone." - -"I wouldn't do such a thing for the wide, wide world," returned Caroline -Mitford in pretended astonishment. - -"Why not?" - -"It would be a wicked, dreadful story, because you wouldn't be gone." - -"I am sorry you look at it that way," said Thorne, "because I am going. -Good-night, Miss Mitford." - -But before he could leave the room, the girl, who was as light on her -feet as a fairy, caught him by the arm. - -"No--you don't seem to understand. I've got something to say to you." - -"Yes, I know," said Thorne; "but some other time." - -"No, now." - -Of course, he could have freed himself by the use of a little force, but -such a thing was not to be thought of. Everything conspired to keep him -when his duty called him away, he thought quickly. - -"There isn't any other time," said Caroline, "it is to-night. We are -going to have a Starvation party." - -"Good Heavens!" exclaimed Thorne; "another!" - -"Yes, we are." - -"I can't see how it concerns me." - -"It is going to be over at our house, and we expect you in half an -hour." - -"I shouldn't think you would want to play at this time." - -"We are not going to play. We are going to make bandages and sandbags -and----" - -"You won't need me." - -"Yes, you can tell us the best way to----" - -"Thank you, Miss Mitford, I can't come. I have my orders and I am -leaving to-night." - -"Now, that won't do at all," said the girl, pouting. "You went to Mamie -Jones' party; I don't see why you should treat me like this." - -"Mamie Jones!" said Thorne. "Why, that was last Thursday, and now I have -got orders, I tell you, and----" - -But Caroline was not to be put off. - -"Now, there's no use talking about it," she said vehemently. - -"Yes, I see that." - -"Didn't you promise to obey orders when I gave them? Well, these are -orders." - -"Another set," laughed Thorne. - -"I don't know anything about any others. These are mine." - -"Well, but this time----" - -"This time is just the same as all the other times, only worse; besides -I told her you would be there." - -"What's that?" - -"I say she expects you, that's all." - -"Who expects me?" - -"Why, Edith, of course; who do you suppose I was talking about all this -time?" - -"Oh, she expects me to----" - -"Why, of course, she does. You are to take her over. You needn't stay if -you don't want to. Now I will go and tell her you are waiting." - -"Oh, very well," said Thorne, smiling; "if she expects me to take her -over I will do so, of course, but I can't stay a moment." - -"Well," said Caroline, "I thought you would come to your senses some -time or another. See here, Mr. Captain, was she 'most ready?" - -"Well, how do I know." - -"What dress did she have on?" - -"Dress?" - -"Oh, you men! Why, she's only got two." - -"Yes; well, very likely, this was one of them, Miss Mitford." - -"No matter, I am going upstairs to see, anyway. Captain Thorne, you can -wait out there on the veranda or, perhaps, it would be pleasanter if you -were to smoke a cigar out in the summerhouse at the side of the garden. -It is lovely there in the moonlight, and----" - -"I know, but if I wait right here----" - -"Those are my orders. It's cooler outside, you know, anyway, and----" - -"Pardon me, Miss Mitford, orders never have to be explained, you know," -interrupted the Captain, smiling at the charming girl. - -"That's right; I take back the explanation," she said, as Thorne stepped -toward the window; "and, Captain," cried the girl. - -"Yes?" - -"Be sure and smoke." - -Thorne laughed, as he lighted his cigar and stepped out onto the porch, -and thence into the darkness of the garden path. - -"Oh," said Caroline to herself, "he is splendid. If Wilfred were only -like that!" she pouted. "But then--our engagement's broken off anyway, -so what's the difference. If he were like that--I'd---- No!--I don't -think I'd----" - -Her soliloquy was broken by the entrance of Mrs. Varney, who came slowly -down the room. - -"Why, Caroline dear! What are you talking about, all to yourself?" - -"Oh--just--I was just saying, you know--that--why, I don't know what I -was---- Do you think it is going to rain?" she returned in great -confusion. - -"Dear me, child; I haven't thought about it. Why, what have you got on? -Is that a new dress, and in Richmond?" - -"A new dress? Well, I should think so. These are my great-grandmother's -mother's wedding clothes. Aren't they lovely? Just in the nick of time, -too. I was on my very last rags, or, rather, they were on me, and I -didn't know what to do. Mother gave me a key and told me to open an old -horsehair trunk in the attic, and these were in it." She seized the -corners of her dress and pirouetted a step or two forward to show it -off, and then dropped the older woman an elaborate, old-fashioned -courtesy. "I ran over to show them to Edith," she resumed. "Where is -she? I want her to come over to my house." - -"Upstairs, I think. I am afraid she can't come. I have just come from -her room," Mrs. Varney continued as Caroline started to interrupt, "and -she means to stay here." - -"I will see about that," said Caroline, running out of the room. - -Mrs. Varney turned and sat down at her desk to write a letter which -evidently, from her sighs, was not an easy task. In a short time the -girl was back again. Mrs. Varney looked up from writing and smiled at -her. - -"You see it was no use, Caroline," she began. - -"No use," laughed the girl; "well, you will see. I didn't try to -persuade her or argue with her. I just told her that Captain Thorne was -waiting for her in the summerhouse. Yes," she continued, as Mrs. Varney -looked her astonishment; "he is still here, and he said he would take -her over. You just watch which dress she has on when she comes down. Now -I will go out there and tell him she'll be down in a minute. I have more -trouble getting people fixed so that they can come to my party than it -would take to run a blockade into Savannah every fifteen minutes." - -Mrs. Varney looked at her departing figure pleasantly for a moment, and -then, with a deep sigh, resumed her writing, but she evidently was not -to conclude her letter without further interruption, for she had -scarcely begun again when Wilfred came into the room with a bundle very -loosely done up in heavy brown paper. As his mother glanced toward him -he made a violent effort to conceal it under his coat. - -"What have you got there, Wilfred?" she asked incuriously. - -"That? Oh, nothing; it is only--say, mother, have you written that -letter yet?" - -"No, my dear, I have been too busy. I have been trying to write it, -though, since I came down, but I have had one interruption after -another. I think I will go into your father's office and do it there." -She gathered up her paper and turned to leave the room. "It is a hard -letter for me to write, you know," she added as she went away. - -Wilfred, evidently much relieved at his mother's departure, took the -package from under his coat, put it on the table, and began to undo it. -He took from it a pair of very soiled, dilapidated, grey uniform -trousers. He had just lifted them up when he heard Caroline's step on -the porch, and the next moment she came into the room through the long -French window. Wilfred stood petrified with astonishment at the sudden -and unexpected appearance of his young beloved, but soon recovered -himself and began rolling the package together again, hastily and -awkwardly, while Caroline watched him from the window. She coldly -scrutinised his confusion while he made his ungainly roll, and, as he -moved toward the door, she broke the silence. - -"Ah, good-evening, Mr. Varney," she said coolly. - -"Good-evening," he said, his voice as cold as her own. - -They both of them had started for the hall door and in another second -they would have met. - -"Excuse me," said Caroline, "I'm in a hurry." - -"That's plain enough. Another party, I suppose, and dancing." - -"What of it? What's the matter with dancing, I'd like to know." - -"Nothing is the matter with dancing if you want to, but I must say that -it is a pretty way of going on, with the cannon roaring not six miles -away." - -"Well, what do you want us to do? Cry about it! I have cried my eyes out -already; that would do a heap of good now, wouldn't it?" - -"Oh, I haven't time to talk about such petty details. I have some -important matters to attend to," he returned loftily. - -"It was you that started it," said the girl. - -Wilfred turned suddenly, his manner at once losing its badly assumed -lightness. - -"Oh, you needn't try to fool me," he reproached her; "I know well enough -how you have been carrying on since our engagement was broken off. Half -a dozen officers proposing to you--a dozen for all I know." - -"What difference does it make?" she retorted pertly. "I haven't got to -marry them all, have I?" - -"Well, it isn't very nice to go on like that," said Wilfred with an air -into which he in vain sought to infuse a detached, judicial, and -indifferent appearance. "Proposals by the wholesale!" - -"Goodness me!" exclaimed Caroline, "what's the use of talking about it -to me. They're the ones that propose, I don't. How can I help it?" - -"Oh," said Wilfred loftily, "you can help it all right. You helped it -with me." - -"Well," she answered, with a queer look at him, "that was different." - -"And ever since you threw me over----" he began. - -"I didn't throw you over, you just went over," she interrupted. - -"I went over because you walked off with Major Sillsby that night we -were at Drury's Bluff," said the boy, "and you encouraged him to -propose. You admit it," he said, as the girl nodded her head. - -"Of course I did. I didn't want him hanging around forever, did I? -That's the only way to finish them off. What do you want me to -do--string a placard around my neck, saying, 'No proposals received -here. Apply at the office'? Would that make you feel any better? Well," -she continued, as the boy shrugged his shoulders, "if it doesn't make -any difference to you what I do, it doesn't even make as much as that to -me." - -"Oh, it doesn't? I think it does, though. You looked as if you enjoyed -it pretty well while the Third Virginia was in the city." - -"I should think I did," said Caroline ecstatically. "I just love every -one of them. They are going to fight for us and die for us, and I love -them." - -"Why don't you accept one of them before he dies, then, and have done -with it? I suppose it will be one of those smart young fellows with a -cavalry uniform." - -"It will be some kind of a uniform, I can tell you that. It won't be any -one that stays in Richmond." - -"Now I see what it was," said Wilfred, looking at her gloomily. "I had -to stay in Richmond, and----" - -The boy choked up and would not finish. - -"Well," said Caroline, "that made a heap of difference. Why, I was the -only girl on Franklin Street that didn't have a--some one she was -engaged to--at the front. Just think what it was to be out of it like -that! You have no idea how I suffered; besides, it is our duty to help -all we can. There aren't many things a girl can do, but Colonel -Woolbridge--he's one of Morgan's new men, you know--said that the boys -fight twice as well when they have a--sweetheart at home. I couldn't -waste an engagement on----" - -"And is that why you let them all propose to you?" rejoined the youth -bitterly. - -"Certainly; it didn't hurt me, and it pleased them. Most of 'em will -never come back to try it again, and it is our duty to help all we can." - -"And you really want to help all you can, do you?" asked Wilfred -desperately. "Well, if I were to join the army would you help me--that -way?" - -This was a direct question. It was the _argumentum ad feminam_ with a -vengeance. Caroline hesitated. A swift blush overspread her cheek, but -she was game to the core. - -"Why, of course I would, if there was anything I--could do," she -answered. - -"Well, there is something you can do." He unrolled his package and -seized the trousers by the waistband and dangled them before her eyes. -"Cut those off," he said; "they are twice too long. All you have to do -is to cut them here and sew up the ends, so that they don't ravel out." - -Caroline stared at him in great bewilderment. She had expected something -quite different. - -"Why, they are uniform trousers," she said finally. "You are going to -join the army?" She clapped her hands gleefully. "Give them to me." - -"Hush! don't talk so loud, for Heaven's sake," said Wilfred. "I've got a -jacket here, too." He drew out of the parcel a small army jacket, a -private soldier's coat. "It's nearly a fit. It came from the hospital. -Johnny Seldon wore it, but he won't want it any more, you know, and he -was just about my size, only his legs were longer. Well," he continued, -as the girl continued to look at him strangely, "I thought you said you -wanted to help me." - -"I certainly do." - -"What are you waiting for, then?" asked Wilfred. - -The girl took the trousers and dropped on her knees before him. - -"Stand still," she said, as she measured the trousers from the waistband -to the floor. - -"This is about the place, isn't it?" - -"Yes, just there." - -"Wait," she continued, "until I mark it with a pin." - -Wilfred stood quietly until the proper length had been ascertained, and -then he assisted Caroline to her feet. - -"Do you see any scissors about?" she asked in a businesslike way. - -"I don't believe there are any in the drawing-room, but I can get some -from the women sewing over there. Wait a moment." - -"No, don't," said the girl; "they would want to know what you wanted -with them, and then you would have to tell them." - -"Yes," said the boy; "and I want to keep this a secret between us." - -"When are you going to wear them?" - -"As soon as you get them ready." - -"But your mother----" - -"She knows it. She is going to write to father to-night. She said she -would send it by a special messenger, so we ought to get an answer by -to-morrow." - -"But if he says no?" - -"I am going anyway." - -"Oh, Wilfred, I am so glad. Why, it makes another thing of it," cried -the girl. "When I said that about staying in Richmond, I didn't know---- -Oh, I do want to help all I can." - -"You do? Well, then, for Heaven's sake, be quick about it and cut off -those trousers. So long as I get them in the morning," said Wilfred, "I -guess it will be in plenty of time." - -"When did you say your mother was going to write?" - -"To-night." - -"Of course, she doesn't want you to go, and she'll tell your father not -to let you. Yes," she continued sagely, as Wilfred looked up, -horror-stricken at the idea; "that's the way mothers always do." - -"What can I do, then?" he asked her. - -"Why don't you write to him yourself, and then you can tell him just -what you like." - -"That's a fine idea. I'll tell him that I can't stay here, and that I'm -going to enlist whether he says so or not. That'll make him say yes, -won't it?" - -"Why, of course; there'll be nothing else for him to say." - -"Say, you are a pretty good girl," said Wilfred, catching her hand -impulsively. "I'll go upstairs and write it now. You finish these as -soon as you can. You can ask those women for some scissors, and when -they are ready leave them in this closet, but don't let any one see you -doing it, whatever happens." - -"No, I won't," said Caroline, as Wilfred hurried off. - -She went over to the room where the women were sewing, and borrowed a -pair of scissors; then she came back and started to cut off the trousers -where they were marked. The cloth was old and worn, but it was, -nevertheless, stiff and hard, and her scissors were dull. Men spent -their time in sharpening other things than women's tools during those -days in Richmond, and her slender fingers made hard work of the -amputations. Beside, she was prone to stop and think and dream of her -soldier boy while engaged in this congenial work. She had not finished -the alteration, therefore, when she heard a step in the hall. She caught -up the trousers, striving to conceal them, entirely forgetful of the -jacket which lay on the table. - -"Oh," said Mrs. Varney, as she came into the room; "you haven't gone -yet?" - -"No," faltered the girl; "we don't assemble for a little while, and----" - -"Don't assemble?" - -"I mean for the party. It doesn't begin for half an hour yet, and----" - -"Oh; then you have plenty of time." - -"Yes," said Caroline. "But I will have to go now, sure enough." She -turned away and, as she did so, her scissors fell clattering to the -floor. - -"You dropped your scissors, my dear," said Mrs. Varney. - -"I thought I heard something fall," she faltered in growing confusion. - -She came back for her scissors, and, in her agitation and nervousness, -she dropped one of the pieces of trouser leg on the floor. - -"What are you making, Caroline?" asked Mrs. Varney, looking curiously at -the little huddled-up soiled piece of grey on the carpet, while Caroline -made a desperate grab at it. - -"Oh, just altering an old--dress, Mrs. Varney. That's all." - -Mrs. Varney looked at her through her glasses. As she did so, Caroline's -agitated movement caused the other trouser leg, with its half-severed -end hanging from it, to dangle over her arm. - -"And what is that?" asked Mrs. Varney. - -"Oh--that's--er--one of the sleeves," answered Caroline desperately, -hurrying out in great confusion. - -Mrs. Varney laughed softly to herself. As she did so, her glance fell -upon the little heap of grey on the table. She picked it up and opened -it. It was a grey jacket, a soldier's jacket. It looked as if it might -be about Wilfred's size. There was a bullet hole in the breast, and -there was a dull brown stain around the opening. Mrs. Varney kissed the -worn coat. She saw it all now. - -"For Wilfred," she whispered. "He has probably got it from some dead -soldier at the hospital, and Caroline's dress that she was altering----" - -She clasped the jacket tightly to her breast, looked up, and smiled and -prayed through her tears. - - - - - CHAPTER V - - THE UNFAITHFUL SERVANT - - -But Mrs. Varney was not allowed to indulge in either her bitter -retrospect or her dread anticipations very long. Her reverie was -interrupted by the subdued trampling of heavy feet upon the floor of the -back porch. The long drawing-room extended across the house, and had -porches at front and back, to which access was had through long French -windows. The sound was so sudden and so unexpected that she dropped the -jacket on the couch and turned to the window. The sound of low, hushed -voices came to her, and the next moment a tall, fine-looking young man -of rather distinguished appearance entered the room. He was not in -uniform, but wore the customary full-skirted frock coat of the period, -and carried his big black hat in his hand. For the rest, he was a very -keen, sharp-eyed man, whose movements were quick and stealthy, and whose -quick, comprehensive glance seemed to take in not only Mrs. Varney, but -everything in the room. Through the windows and the far door soldiers -could be seen dimly. Mrs. Varney was very indignant at the entrance of -this newcomer in this unceremonious manner. - -"Mr. Arrelsford!" she exclaimed haughtily. - -In two or three quick steps Mr. Benton Arrelsford of the Confederate -Secret Service was by her side. Although she was alone, through habit -and excessive caution he lowered his voice when he spoke to her. - -"Your pardon, Mrs. Varney," he said, with just a shade too much of the -peremptory for perfect breeding, "I was compelled to enter without -ceremony. You will understand when I tell you why." - -"And those men----" said Mrs. Varney, pointing to the back windows and -the far door. "What have we done that we should be----" - -"They are on guard." - -"On guard!" exclaimed the woman, greatly surprised and equally -resentful. - -"Yes, ma'am; and I am very much afraid we shall be compelled to put you -to a little inconvenience; temporary, I assure you, but necessary." He -glanced about cautiously and pointed to the door across the hall. "Is -there anybody in that room, Mrs. Varney?" - -"Yes, a number of ladies sewing for the hospital; they expect to stay -all night." - -"Very good," said Arrelsford. "Will you kindly come a little farther -away? I would not have them overhear by any possibility." - -There was no possibility of any one overhearing their conversation, but -if Mr. Arrelsford ever erred it was not through lack of caution. Still -more astonished, Mrs. Varney followed him. They stopped by the -fireplace. - -"One of your servants has got himself into trouble, Mrs. Varney, and -we're compelled to have him watched," he began. - -"Watched by a squad of soldiers?" - -"It is well not to neglect any precaution, ma'am." - -"And what kind of trouble, pray?" asked the woman. - -"Very serious, I am sorry to say. At least that is the way it looks now. -You've got an old white-haired butler here----" - -"You mean Jonas?" - -"I believe that's his name," said Arrelsford. - -"And you suspect him of something?" - -Mr. Arrelsford lowered his voice still further and assumed an air of -great importance. - -"We don't merely suspect him; we know what he has done." - -"And what has he done, sir?" - -"He has been down to Libby Prison under pretence of selling things to -the Yankees we've got in there, and he now has on his person a written -communication from one of them which he intends to deliver to some -Yankee spy or agent, here in Richmond." - -Mrs. Varney gasped in astonishment at this tremendous charge, which was -made in Arrelsford's most impressive manner. - -"I don't believe it," she said at last. "He has been in the family for -years; he wouldn't dare." - -Arrelsford shook his head. - -"I am afraid it is true," he said. - -"Very well," said Mrs. Varney decidedly, apparently not at all -convinced. "I will send for the man. Let us see----" - -She reached out her hand to the bell-rope hanging from the wall, but Mr -Arrelsford caught her arm, evidently to her great repugnance. - -"No, no!" he said quickly, "not yet. We have got to get that paper, and -if he's alarmed he will destroy it, and we must have it. It will give us -the clue to one of their cursed plots. They have been right close on -this town for months, trying to break down our defences and get in on -us. This is some rascally game they are at to weaken us from the inside. -Two weeks ago we got word from our secret agents that we keep over there -in the Yankee lines, telling us that two brothers, Lewis and Henry -Dumont----" - -"The Dumonts of West Virginia?" interrupted Mrs. Varney, who was now -keenly attentive to all that was said. - -"The very same." - -"Why, their father is a General in the Yankee Army." - -"Yes; and they are in the Federal Secret Service, and they are the -boldest, most desperately determined men in the whole Yankee Army. -They've already done us more harm than an army corps." - -"Yes?" - -"They have volunteered to do some desperate piece of work here in -Richmond, we have learned. We have close descriptions of both these men, -but we have never been able to get our hands on either of them until -last night." - -"Have you captured them?" - -"We've got one of them, and it won't take long to get the other," said -Arrelsford, in a fierce, truculent whisper. - -"The one you caught, was he here in Richmond?" asked Mrs. Varney, -greatly affected by the other's overwhelming emotion. - -"No, he was brought in last night with a lot of men we captured in a -little sortie." - -"Taken prisoner?" - -"Yes, but without resistance." - -"I don't understand." - -"He let himself be taken. That's one of their tricks for getting into -our lines when they want to bring a message or give some signal." - -"You mean that they deliberately allow themselves to be taken to Libby -Prison?" - -"Yes, damn them!" said Arrelsford harshly. "I beg your pardon, ma'am, -but----" - -Mrs. Varney waved her hand as if Mr. Arrelsford's oaths, like his -presence, were nothing to her. - -"We were on the lookout for this man, and we spotted him pretty quickly. -I gave orders not to search him, and not to have his clothes taken away -from him, but to put him in with the others and keep the closest watch -on him that was ever kept on a man. We knew from his coming in that his -brother must be here in the city, and he'd send a message to him the -first chance he got." - -"But Jonas, how could he----" - -"Easily enough. He comes down to the prison to sell things to the -prisoners with other negroes. We let him pass in, watching him as we -watch them all. He fools around a while, until he gets a chance to brush -against this man Dumont. My men are keeping that fellow under close -observation, and they saw a piece of paper pass between them. By my -orders they gave no sign. We want to catch the man to whom he is to -deliver the paper. He has the paper on him now." - -"I will never believe it." - -"It is true, and that is the reason for these men on the back porch that -you see. I have put others at every window at the back of the house. He -can't get away; he will have to give it up." - -"And the man he gives it to will be the man you want?" said Mrs. Varney. - -"Yes; but I can't wait long. If that nigger sees my men or hears a -sound, he will destroy it before we can jump in on him. I want the man, -but I want the paper, too. Excuse me." He stepped to the back window. -"Corporal!" he said softly. The long porch window was open on account of -the balmy air of the night, and a soldier, tattered and dusty, instantly -appeared and saluted. "How are things now?" asked Arrelsford. - -"All quiet now, sir." - -"Very good," said Arrelsford. "I was afraid he would get away. We've got -to get the paper. If we have the paper, perhaps we can get the man. It -is the key to the game they are trying to play against us, and without -it the man is helpless." - -"No, no," urged Mrs. Varney. "The man he is going to give it to, get -him." - -"Yes, yes, of course," assented Arrelsford; "but that paper might give -us a clue. If not, I'll make the nigger tell. Damn him, I'll shoot it -out of him. How quickly can you get at him from that door, Corporal?" - -"In no time at all, sir. It's through a hallway and across the -dining-room. He is in the pantry." - -"Well," said Arrelsford, "take two men, and----" - -"Wait," said Mrs. Varney; "I still doubt your story, but I am glad to -help. Why don't you keep your men out of sight and let me send for him -here, and then----" - -Arrelsford thought a moment. - -"That may be the better plan," he admitted. "Get him in here and, while -you are talking to him, they can seize him from behind. He won't be able -to do a thing. Do you hear, Corporal?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"Keep your men out of sight; get them back there in the hall, and while -we're making him talk, send a man down each side and pin him. Hold him -stiff. He mustn't destroy any paper he's got." - -The Corporal raised his hand in salute and left the room. The men -disappeared from the windows, and the back porch looked as empty as -before. The whole discussion and the movements of the men had been -practically noiseless. - -"Now, Mr. Arrelsford, are you ready?" - -"Yes, ma'am." - -Mrs. Varney rang the bell on the instant. The two watched each other -intently, and in a moment old Martha appeared at the door. - -"Did you-all ring, ma'am?" - -"Yes," said Mrs. Varney; "I want some one to send to the hospital." - -"Luthah is out heah, ma'am." - -"Luther? He's too small, I don't want a boy." - -"Well, den, Jonas----" - -"Yes, Jonas will do; tell him to come in here immediately." - -"Yas'm." - -"Perhaps you had better sit down, Mrs. Varney," said Arrelsford; "and if -you will permit me, I will stand back by the front window yonder." - -"That will be just as well," said Mrs. Varney, seating herself near the -table, while Arrelsford, making no effort at concealment, stepped over -to the window. Old Jonas entered the door just as they had placed -themselves. He bowed low before Mrs. Varney, entirely unsuspicious of -anything out of the ordinary until his eye fell on the tall form of -Arrelsford. He glanced furtively at the man for a moment, stiffened -imperceptibly, but, as there was nothing else to do, came on. - -"Jonas," said Mrs. Varney, her voice low and level in spite of her -agitation. - -"Yes'm." - -"Have you any idea why I sent for you?" - -"Ah heahd you was gwine send me to de hossiple, ma'am." - -"Oh, then Martha told you," said Mrs. Varney. - -While the little dialogue was taking place, Mr. Arrelsford had made a -signal, and the Corporal and two men had entered the room silently, and -now swiftly advanced to the side of the still unobserving old negro. - -"She didn't ezzactly say whut you----" he began. - -The next instant the two men fell upon him. He might have made some -struggle, although it would have been useless. The windows were -instantly filled with men, and an order would have called them into the -room. He was an old man, and the two soldiers that seized him were -young. He was too surprised to fight, and stood as helpless as a lamb -about to be slaughtered, his face fairly grey with sudden terror. The -Corporal flung open the butler's faded livery coat, and for the moment -Jonas, menaced now by a search, and knowing what the result would be, -struggled furiously, but the men soon mastered him, and the Corporal, -continuing his search, presently drew from an inside pocket a small -folded paper. - -"Jonas! Jonas!" said Mrs. Varney, in bitter disappointment; "how could -you?" - -"I told you so," said Mr. Arrelsford truthfully, triumphantly, and most -aggravatingly under the circumstances, taking the folded paper. -"Corporal," he added, "while I read this, see if he has got anything -more." - -A further search, however, revealed nothing. Arrelsford had scarcely -completed the reading of the brief note when the Corporal reported: - -"That is all he has, sir." - -Arrelsford nodded. The men had released Jonas, but stood by his side, -and the Secret Service Agent now approached him. - -"Who was this for?" he asked sharply and tensely. - -The negro stared at him stolidly and silently, his face ashen with -fright. - -"Look here," continued the other, "if you don't tell me it is going to -make it pretty bad for you." - -The words apparently made no further impression upon the servant. -Arrelsford tried another tack. He turned to Mrs. Varney, who was -completely dismayed at this breach of trust by one who had been attached -to the family fortunes for so many years. - -"I am right sorry, ma'am," he said very distinctly, "but it looks like -we have got to shoot him." - -"Oh!" cried Mrs. Varney at that. "Jonas, speak!" - -But even to that appeal he remained silent. Arrelsford waited a moment -and then: - -"Corporal," he said; "take him outside and get it out of him. String him -up until he talks. But don't let him yell or give any alarm; gag him -until he's ready to tell. You understand?" - -The Corporal nodded and turned toward the hall door. - -"Not that way," said Arrelsford; "take him to the back of the house and -keep him quiet, whatever you do. Nobody must know about this, not a -soul." - -"Very good, sir," said the Corporal, saluting. He gave an order to the -men, and they marched Jonas off, swiftly and silently. Nothing that had -been said or done had disturbed the women across the hall. Mrs. Varney -glanced up at the unfolded piece of paper in Mr. Arrelsford's hand. He -was smiling triumphantly. - -"Was there anything in that?" she asked. - -"Yes, there was. We know the trick they meant to play." - -"But not the man who was to play it?" - -"I didn't say that, ma'am." - -"Does it give you a clue to it?" - -"It does." - -"Will it answer?" - -"It will." - -"Then you know----" - -"As plain as if we had his name." - -"Thank God for that," exclaimed the woman. "May I see it?" - -Arrelsford hesitated. - -"I see no reason why you should not." - -He extended his hand toward her, and she glanced at the paper. - -"_Attack to-night. Plan 3. Use telegraph!_" she read. She looked up. - -"What does it mean?" she asked tremulously. - -"They are to attack to-night, and the place where they are to strike is -indicated by Plan 3." - -"Plan 3?" questioned the woman. - -"Yes; the man this is sent to will know what is meant by that. It has -been arranged beforehand, and----" - -"But the last words," said Mrs. Varney. "Use telegraph?" - -"That is plain, too. He is to use our War Department Telegraph and send -some false order to weaken that position, the one they indicate by 'Plan -3,' so that when they assault it, they will find it feebly defended or -not at all, and break through and come down on the city and swamp us." - -"But," exclaimed Mrs. Varney in deepest indignation and excitement, "the -man who was to do this? Who is he? There is nothing about him that I can -see." - -"But I can see something." - -"What? Where?" - -"In the words, 'Use Telegraph.' We know every man on the telegraph -service, and every one of them is true. There is some one who will try -to get into that service if the game is carried out, and----" - -"Then he will be the man," said Mrs. Varney. - -"Yes; there aren't so many men in Richmond that can do that. It isn't -every man that's expert enough----Mrs. Varney, Jonas brought this paper -to your house, and----" - -"To my house?" exclaimed the woman in great astonishment, and then she -stopped, appalled by a sudden thought which came to her. - -"At the same time," said Arrelsford, "your daughter has been trying to -get an appointment for some one on the telegraph service. Perhaps she -could give us some idea, and----" - -Mrs. Varney rose and stood as if rooted to the spot. - -"You mean----" - -"Captain Thorne," said Arrelsford impressively. - - - - - CHAPTER VI - - THE CONFIDENCE OF EDITH VARNEY - - -Mrs. Varney had, of course, divined toward whom Arrelsford's suspicion -pointed. She had been entirely certain before he had mentioned the name -that the alleged spy or traitor could be none other than her daughter's -friend; indeed, it would not be stretching the truth to say that Thorne -was her friend as well as her daughter's, and her keen mother's wit was -not without suspicion that if he were left to himself, or if he were -permitted to follow his own inclinations, the relation between himself -and the two women might have been a nearer one still and a dearer one, -yet, nevertheless, the shocking announcement came to her with sudden, -sharp surprise. - -We may be perfectly certain, absolutely sure, of a coming event, but -when it does occur its shock is felt in spite of previous assurance. We -may watch the dying and pray for death to end anguish, and know that it -is coming, but when the last low breath has gone, it is as much of a -shock to us as if it had not been expected, or even dreamed of. - -The announcement of the name was shattering to her composure. She knew -very well why Arrelsford would rejoice to find Thorne guilty of -anything, and she would have discounted any ordinary accusation that he -brought against him, but the train of the circumstances was so complete -in this case and the coincidences so unexplainable upon any other -theory, the evidence so convincing, that she was forced to admit that -Arrelsford was fully justified in his suspicion, and that without regard -to the fact that he was a rejected suitor of her daughter's. - -Surprise, horror, and conviction lodged in her soul, and were mirrored -in her face. Arrelsford saw and divined what was passing in her mind, -and, eager to strike while the iron was hot, bent forward open-mouthed -to continue his line of reasoning and denunciation, but Mrs. Varney -checked him. She laid her finger upon her lips and pointed with the -other hand to the front of the house. - -"What!" exclaimed the Confederate Secret Service agent; "is he there?" - -Mrs. Varney nodded. - -"He may be. He went out to the summerhouse some time ago to wait for -Edith; they were going over to Caroline Mitford's later on. I saw him go -down the walk." - -"Do you suppose my men could have alarmed him?" asked Arrelsford, -greatly perturbed at this unexpected development. - -"I don't know. They were all at the back windows. They didn't seem to -make much noise. I suppose not. You have a description of the man for -whom the letter was intended?" - -"Yes, at the office; but I remember it perfectly." - -"Does it fit this--this Captain Thorne?" - -"You might as well know sooner as later, Mrs. Varney, that there is no -Captain Thorne. This is an assumed name, and the man you have in your -house is Lewis Dumont." - -"Do you mean that he came here to----" - -"He came to this town, to this house," said Arrelsford vindictively, his -voice still subdued but full of fury, "knowing your position, the -influence of your name, your husband's rank and service, for the sole -purpose of getting recognised as a reputable person, so that he would be -less likely to be suspected. He has corrupted your servants--you saw old -Jonas--and he has contrived to enlist the powerful support of your -daughter. His aim is the War Department Telegraph Office. He is friends -with the men at that office. What else he hasn't done or what he has, -the Lord only knows. But Washington is not the only place where they -have a secret service; we have one at Richmond. Whatever game he plays, -it is one that two can play; and now it is my play." - -The patter of light footsteps was heard on the stairs, a flash of white -seen through the open door into the hall dimly lighted, and Edith Varney -came rapidly, almost breathlessly, into the room. She had changed her -dress, and if Caroline Mitford had been there, she would have known -certainly from the little air of festivity about her clean but faded and -darned, sprigged and flowered white muslin frock that she was going to -accept the invitation. In one hand she held her hat, which she swung -carelessly by its long faded ribbons, and in the other that official -envelope which had come to her from the President of the Confederacy. -She called to her mother as she ran down. - -"Mamma!" Her face was white and her voice pitched high, fraught with -excited intensity. "Under my window, in the rosebushes, at the back of -the house! They're hurting somebody frightfully, I am sure!" - -She burst into the room with the last word. Mrs. Varney stared at her, -understanding fully who, in all probability, was being roughly dealt -with in the rosebushes, and realising what a terrible effect such -disclosures as she had listened to would produce upon the mind of the -girl. - -"Come," said Edith, turning rapidly toward the rear window; "we must -stop it." - -Mrs. Varney stood as if rooted to the floor. - -"Well," said the girl, in great surprise, "if you aren't coming, I will -go myself." - -These words awakened her mother to action. - -"Wait, Edith," she said. - -Now, and for the first time, Edith noticed Mr. Arrelsford, who had -stepped back and away from her mother. She replied to his salutation -with a cold and distant bow. The man's face flushed; he turned away. - -"But, mamma, the men outside," persisted the girl. - -"Wait, my dear," said her mother, taking her gently by the arm; "I must -tell you something. It will be a great shock to you, I am afraid." - -"What is it, mamma? Has father or----" - -"No, no, not that," said Mrs. Varney. "A man we have trusted as a friend -has shown himself a conspirator, a spy, a traitor." - -"Who is it?" cried the girl, at the same time instinctively -divining--how or why she could not tell, and that thought smote her -afterward--to whom the reference was being made. - -Mrs. Varney naturally hesitated to say the name. Arrelsford, carried -away by his passion for the girl and his hatred for Thorne, was not so -reticent. He stepped toward her. - -"It is the gentleman, Miss Varney, whose attentions you have been -pleased to accept in the place of mine," he burst out bitterly. - -His manner and his meaning were unmistakable. The girl stared at him -with a white, haughty face, in spite of her trembling lips. Mechanically -she thrust the envelope with the commission into her belt, and -confronted the man who loved her and whom she did not love, who accused -of this hateful thing the man whom, in the twinkling of an eye, she -realised she did love. Then the daughter turned to her mother. - -"Is it Mr Arrelsford who makes this accusation?" she asked. - -"Yes," said Arrelsford, again answering for Mrs. Varney, "since you wish -to know. From the first I have had my suspicions about this----" - -But Edith did not wait for him to finish his sentence. She turned away -from him with loathing, and moved rapidly toward the front window. - -"Where are you going!" asked Arrelsford. - -"For Captain Thorne." - -"Not now," he said peremptorily. - -The colour flamed in the girl's cheek again. - -"Mr. Arrelsford, you have said something to me about Captain Thorne. Are -you afraid to say it to him?" - -"Miss Varney," answered Arrelsford hotly, "if you--if you----" - -"Edith," said Mrs. Varney, "Mr. Arrelsford has good reasons for not -meeting Captain Thorne now." - -"I should think he had," returned the girl swiftly; "for a man who made -such a charge to his face would not live to make it again." - -"My dear, my dear," said her mother, gently but firmly, "you don't -understand, you don't----" - -"Mamma," said the girl, "this man has left his desk in the War -Department so that he can have the pleasure of persecuting me." - -Both the mother and the rejected suitor noticed her identification of -herself with Captain Thorne in the pronoun "me," one with sinking heart -and the other with suppressed fury. - -"He has never attempted anything active in the service before," -continued Edith, "and when I ask him to face the man he accuses, he -turns like a coward!" - -"Mrs. Varney, if she thinks----" - -"I think nothing," said the girl furiously; "I know that Captain -Thorne's character is above suspicion." - -Arrelsford sneered. - -"His character! Where did he come from--what is he?" - -"For that matter," said Edith intensely, "where did you come from, and -what are you?" - -"That is not the question," was the abrupt reply. - -"Neither," said the girl, "is it the question who he is. If it were, I'd -answer it--I'd tell you that he is a soldier who has fought and been -wounded in service, while you----" - -Arrelsford made a violent effort to control himself under this bitter -jibing and goading, and to his credit, succeeded in part. - -"We are not so sure of that, Miss Varney," he said more coolly. - -"But I am sure," answered the girl. "Why, he brought us letters from -Stonewall Jackson himself." - -"Has it occurred to you that General Jackson was dead before his letters -were presented?" asked Arrelsford quickly. - -"What does that signify if he wrote them before he was killed?" - -"Nothing certainly," assented the other, "if he wrote them." - -"The signatures and the letters were verified." - -"They may have been written for some one else and this Thorne may have -possessed himself of them by fraud, or----" - -"Mr. Arrelsford," cried the girl, more and more angry, "if you mean----" - -"My dear child," said Mrs Varney, "you don't understand. They have -proofs of a conspiracy. The Yankees are going to try to break through -our lines to-night, some one is going to use the telegraph, and two men -in the Northern Secret Service have been sent here to do this work. One -is in Libby Prison. Our faithful Jonas has been corrupted. He went there -to-day and took a message from one and brought it here to deliver it to -the other. They are trying to make him speak out there to tell -who----Our country, our cause, is at stake." - -"Is this Mr. Arrelsford's story?" asked the daughter stubbornly, -apparently entirely unconvinced. - -"No; these are facts. We had Jonas in here," answered her mother; -"caught him off his guard, and found the incriminating paper on him." - -"But he has not said it was for----" persisted Edith desperately. - -"Not yet," whispered Mr. Arrelsford, "but he will. You may be sure of -that; we have means to--Oh, Corporal," he broke off eagerly, looking -toward the door where the Corporal stood, his hand at salute. "Well, -speak out, what does he say?" - -"Nothing, sir." - -"What have you done with him?" - -"Strung him up three times, and----" - -"Well, string him up again," snarled Arrelsford. "If he won't speak, -shoot it out of him, kill the dog. We don't need his evidence any way, -there's enough without it." - -"There is nothing," said Edith tersely. - -"By midnight," answered Arrelsford, "you shall have all the proof----" - -"There is no proof to have," persisted the girl. - -"I will show it to you at the telegraph office, if you dare to go with -me." - -"Dare! I will go anywhere, even with you, for that----" - -"I will call for you in half an hour then," said Arrelsford, going -toward the door. - -"Wait," interrupted Edith; "what are you going to do?" - -"I am going to let him get this paper," said Arrelsford, coming back to -the table. "He will know what they want him to do, and then we'll see -him try to do it." - -"You are going to spy on him, are you?" - -"I am going to prove what he is." - -"Then prove it openly at once. It is shameful to let such a suspicion -rest upon an honourable man. Let him come in here, and----" - -"It is impossible." - -"Then do something, something, but do it now!" cried the girl. "You will -soon know that he is innocent, you must know it. Wait! You say the -prisoner in Libby is his brother--that's what you said--his brother. -Bring him here. Go to the prison and bring that man here." - -"What?" - -"Let them meet. Bring them face to face, then you can see whether----" - -"You mean bring them together here?" - -"Yes." - -"As if the prisoner were trying to escape?" - -"Exactly." - -"There is something in that," said Arrelsford; "when do you suggest----" - -"Now." - -"I am willing to try it, but it depends upon you. Can you keep Thorne -here?" - -"I can." - -"It won't take more than half an hour. Be out there on the veranda. When -I tap on the glass bring him into this room and leave him alone. And I -can rely upon you to give him no hint or sign that we suspect----" - -"Mr. Arrelsford!" said the girl, indignant and haughty, and her mother -stepped swiftly toward her, looking at him contemptuously, as if he -should have known that such an action would be impossible for either of -them. - -Arrelsford gazed at them a minute or two, smiled triumphantly, and -passed out of the room. - -"Mamma, mamma!" moaned the girl, her eyes shut, her hand extended. -"Mamma," she repeated in anguish. - -"I am here, Edith dear; I am here," said Mrs. Varney, coming toward her -and taking her tenderly in her arms. - -"Do you think--do you think--that he--he could be what they say?" Her -hand fell upon the commission in her belt "This commission I got for him -this afternoon----" - -"Yes?" - -"The commission, you know, from the President, for the Telegraph -Service--why, he refused to take it," her voice rose and rang -triumphantly through the room; "he refused to take it! That doesn't look -as if he wanted to use the telegraph to betray us." - -"Refused! That's impossible!" said her mother. - -"He said that it was for me that he couldn't take it." - -"For you! Then it is true," answered Mrs. Varney. - -"No, no," said the girl; "don't say it." - -"Yes," said her mother; "the infamous----" The girl tried to stifle with -her hand upon her mother's lips the words, but Mrs. Varney shook off her -hand. "The spy, the traitor," she added witheringly. - -"No, no!" cried the girl, but as she spoke, conviction seemed to come to -her. Why was it that her faith was not more substantially based and -enduring? she asked herself. "Mamma," she wailed, "it can't be." She -buried her face in her hands for a moment and then tore them away and -confronted her mother boldly. "Won't you leave me alone for a little -while, mamma?" she asked plaintively. "I must get----" - -"I will go to Howard; I will be back in a short time, my dear," said her -mother, gently laying her hand on her daughter's bent head. - -Left alone, the girl took the commission from her belt, opened it, -smoothed it out, and read it through, as if bewildered and -uncomprehending. She folded it up again, and walked slowly over to one -of the front windows, drew aside the curtains, and pushed it open. All -was still. She listened for she knew not what. There was a footstep from -the far end of the walk leading from the summerhouse, a footstep she -knew. Edith moved rapidly away from the window to the table and stood by -it, her hand resting upon it, her knees fairly trembling in her emotion, -as she waited. The next moment the open space framed the figure of -Captain Thorne. He entered fearlessly, but when his eye fell upon her -there was something so strained about her attitude that a spark of -suspicion was kindled in his soul. Yet his action was prompt enough. He -came instantly toward her and took her hand. - -"Miss Varney," he said. - -Edith watched his approach fascinated, as a bird by a serpent. His touch -awakened her to action. She snatched her hand away and shrank back. - -"No; don't touch me!" she cried. - -He looked at her in amazement. The spark of suspicion burst into flame, -but she recovered herself instantly. - -"Oh, it was you," she faltered. She forced a smile to her lips. "How -perfectly absurd I am. I am sure I ought to be ashamed of myself. Come, -let's go out on the veranda. I want to talk to you about so many things. -There's--there's half an hour--yet before we must go to Caroline's." - -She had possessed herself of his hand again as she spoke. She now -stepped swiftly toward the window. He followed her reluctantly until -they reached the opening. She stepped through it and archly looked back -at him, still in the room. - -"How lovely is the night," she said with tender persuasiveness. "Come -with me." - -The man looked around him hastily. Every moment was precious to him. Did -Miss Varney know. If so, what did she know? What was to be gained or -lost by half an hour's delay on his part? He drew out his watch and -glanced at it swiftly. There was time. He would never see her again. He -might say he would possibly never see any one again after the hazards of -this night. He was entitled to one brief moment of happiness. How long -had she said? Half an hour. He would take it. - -"Aren't you coming, Captain Thorne?" cried the girl from the porch, all -the coquettish witchery of youth and the South in her voice. - -"I am coming," answered the officer, deliberately stepping through the -window, "for just half an hour," he added. - -"That will be time enough," replied the girl, laughing. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - BOOK II - - WHAT HAPPENED AT NINE O'CLOCK - - - - - CHAPTER VII - - WILFRED WRITES A LETTER - - -Half an hour is a short or a long time, depending upon the individual -mood or the exigencies of the moment. It was a short half hour to -Captain Thorne--to continue to give him the name by which he was -commonly known--out in the moonlight and the rose garden with Edith -Varney. It was short to him because he loved her and because he realised -that in that brief space must be packed experience enough to last him -into the long future, it might be into the eternal future! - -It was short to Edith Varney, in part at least for the same reason, but -it was shorter to him than to her, for at the end of that period the -guilt or innocence of the man she loved and who loved her would be -established beyond peradventure; either he was the brave, devoted, -self-sacrificing Confederate soldier she thought him, or he was a spy; -and since he came of a Virginia family, although West Virginia had -separated from the Old Dominion, she coupled the word spy with that of -traitor. Either or both would be enough to condemn him. Fighting against -suspicion, she would fain have postponed the moment of revelation, of -decision, therefore too quickly passed the flying moments. - -It was a short half hour to Thorne, because he might see her no more. It -was a short half hour again to Edith because she might see him no more, -and it might be possible that she could not even allow herself to dream -upon him in his absence in the future. The recollection of the woman -would ever be sweet and sacred to the man, but it might be necessary for -the woman to blot out utterly the remembrance of the man. - -It was a short half hour to young Wilfred in his own room, waiting -impatiently for old Martha to bring him the altered uniform, over which -Caroline was busily working in the large old-fashioned kitchen. She had -chosen that odd haven of refuge because there she was the least likely -to be interrupted and could pursue her task without fear of observation -by any other eyes than those of old Martha. The household had been -reduced to its smallest limit and the younger maids who were still -retained in the establishment had been summarily dismissed to their -quarters for the night by the old mammy. - -Now that Wilfred had taken the plunge, his impatience to go was at fever -heat. He could not wait, he felt, for another moment. He had spent some -of his half hour in composing a letter with great care. It was a short -letter and therefore was soon finished, and he was now pacing up and -down his room with uneasy steps waiting for old Martha's welcome voice. - -It was a long half hour for little Caroline Mitford, busily sewing away -in the kitchen. It seemed to her that she was taking forever to turn up -the bottoms of the trouser legs and make a "hem" on each, as she -expressed it. She was not very skilful at such rough needlework and her -eyes were not so very clear as she played at tailoring. This is no -reflection upon their natural clarity and brightness, but they were -quite often dimmed with tears, which once or twice brimmed over and -dropped upon the coarse fabric of the garment upon which she worked. She -had known the man who had worn them last, he had been a friend of hers, -and she knew the boy who was going to wear them next. - -If she could translate the emotions of her girlish heart, the new wearer -was more than a friend. Was the same fate awaiting the latter that the -former had met? - -The half hour was very long to Jonas, the old butler, trembling with -fright, suffering from his rough usage and terror-stricken with -anticipation of the further punishment that awaited him. - -The half hour was longest of all to Mrs. Varney. After her visit to -Howard, who had enjoyed one of his lucid moments and who seemed to be a -little better, she had come down to the drawing-room, at Mr. -Arrelsford's suggestion, to see that no one from the house who might -have observed, or divined, or learned, in any way what was going on -within should go out into the garden and disturb the young couple, or -give an alarm to the man who was the object of so much interest and -suspicion, so much love and hatred. - -About the only people who took no note of the time were the busy -sempstresses in the room across the hall, and the first sign of life -came from that room. Miss Kittridge, who appeared to have been -constituted the messenger of the workers, came out of the room, went -down the hall to the back of the house, and presently entered the -drawing-room, by the far door. - -"Well," she began, seeing Mrs. Varney, "we have just sent off another -batch of bandages." - -"Did the same man come for them?" asked the mistress of the house. - -"No, they sent another one." - -"Did you have much?" - -"Yes, quite a lot. We have all been at the bandages, they say that that -is what they need most. So long as we have any linen left we will work -at it." She turned to go away, but something in the elder woman's face -and manner awakened a slight suspicion in her mind. She stopped, turned, -and came back. "You look troubled, Mrs. Varney," she began. "Do you want -anything?" - -"No, nothing, thank you." - -"Is there anything I can do or anything any of us can do?" - -"Not a thing, my dear," answered Mrs. Varney, trying to smile and -failing dismally. - -"Is it Howard?" persisted the other, anxious to be of service. - -"He seems to be a little better," returned the woman. - -"I am glad to hear it, and if there is anything any of us could do for -you, you would certainly tell me." - -The elder woman nodded and Miss Kittridge turned decisively away and -stepped briskly toward the door. On second thought, there was something -she could do, reflected Mrs. Varney, and so she rose, stepped to the -door in turn, and called her back. - -"Perhaps it would be just as well," she said, "if any of the ladies want -to go to let them out the other way. You can open the door into the back -hall. We're expecting some one here on important business, you know, and -we----" - -"I understand," said Miss Kittridge. - -"And you will see to this?" - -"Certainly; trust me." - -"Thank you." - -Mrs. Varney turned with a little sigh of relief and went back to her -place by the table, where her work basket sat near to hand. No woman in -Richmond was without a work basket with work in it for any length of -time during those days. The needle was second only to the bayonet in the -support of the dying Confederacy! She glanced at it, but, sure evidence -of the tremendous strain under which she laboured, she made no motion to -take it up. Instead, after a moment of reflection, she crossed to the -wall and pulled the bell rope. In a short time, considering her bulk and -unwieldiness, old Martha appeared at the far door. - -"Did you ring, ma'am?" she asked. - -"Yes," was the answer. "Has Miss Caroline gone yet?" - -"No, ma'am," answered Martha, smilingly displaying a glorious set of -white teeth. "She's been out in de kitchen fo' a w'ile." - -"In the kitchen?" - -"Yas'm. Ah took her out dere. She didn't want to be seed by no one." - -"And what is she doing there?" - -"She's been mostly sewin' an' behabin' mighty strange about sumfin a -gret deal ob de time. She's a-snifflin' an' a-weepin', but Ah belieb -she's gittin' ready to gwine home now." - -"Very well," said Mrs. Varney, "will you please ask her to come in here -a moment before she goes." - -"Yas'm, 'deed Ah will," said old Martha, turning and going out of the -door through which, presently, Caroline herself appeared. - -She looked very demure and the air of innocence, partly natural but -largely assumed, well became her although it did not deceive Mrs. Varney -for a moment, or would not have deceived her if she had had any special -interest in Caroline's actions or emotions. The greater strain under -which she laboured made the girl of small moment; she would simply use -her, that was all. - -"Caroline, dear," she began immediately, "are you in a great hurry to go -home?" - -"No, ma'am, not particularly, especially if I can do anything for you -here," answered the girl readily, somewhat surprised. - -"It happens that you can," said Mrs. Varney; "if you can stay here a few -minutes while I go upstairs to Howard it will be a great help to me." - -"You want me just to wait here, is that it?" asked the girl, somewhat -mystified. - -Why on earth anybody should be required to wait in a vacant room was -something which Caroline could not understand, but Mrs. Varney's next -words sought to explain it. - -"I don't want you merely to wait here but--well, in fact, I don't want -anybody to go out on the veranda, or into the garden, from the front of -the house, under any circumstances." - -Caroline's eyes opened in great amazement. She did not in the least -understand what it was all about until Mrs. Varney explained further. - -"You see Edith's there with----" - -"Oh, yes," laughed the girl, at last, as she thought, comprehending, -"you want them to be left alone. I know how that is, whenever I am--when -some--that is of course I will see to it," she ended rather lamely and -in great confusion. - -"Just a few minutes, dear," said Mrs. Varney, smiling faintly at the -girl's blushing cheeks and not thinking it worth while to correct the -misapprehension, "I won't be long." She stepped across the room, but -turned in the doorway for her final injunction, "Do be careful, won't -you?" - -"Careful!" said Caroline to herself, "I should think I would be careful. -As if I didn't know enough for that. I can guess what is going on out -there in the moonlight. I wouldn't have them disturbed for the world. -Why, if I were out there with--with--Wil--with anybody, I wouldn't----" - -She stopped in great dismay at her own admissions and stood staring -toward the front windows, over which Mrs. Varney had most carefully -drawn the heavy hangings. - -Presently her curiosity got the better of her sense of propriety. She -went to the nearest window, pulled the curtains apart a little, and -peered eagerly out. She saw nothing, nothing but the trees in the -moonlight, that is; Edith and Captain Thorne were not within view nor -were they within earshot. She turned to the other window. Now that she -had made the plunge, she determined to see what was going on if she -could. She drew the couch up before the window and knelt down upon it, -and parting the curtains, looked out, but with the same results as -before. In this questionable position she was unfortunately caught by -Wilfred Varney. - -He was dressed in the grey jacket and the trousers which she had -repaired. She had not made a skilful job of her tailoring but it would -serve. The whole suit was worn, ill-fitting, and soiled; but it was -whole. That was more than could be said of ninety-nine per cent. of the -uniforms commonly seen round about Richmond. Measured by these, Wilfred -was sumptuously, even luxuriously, dressed, and the pride expressed in -his port and bearing was as complete as it was naive. He walked softly -up the long room, intending to surprise the girl, but boy-like, he -stumbled over a stool on his way forward, and the young lady turned -about quickly and confronted him with an exclamation. Wilfred came close -to her and spoke in a low, fierce whisper. - -"Mother isn't anywhere about, is she?" - -"No," said Caroline in the same tone, "she's just gone upstairs to see -Howard, but she is coming back in a few minutes, she said." - -"Well," returned Wilfred, throwing his chest out impressively, "I am not -running away from her, but if she saw me with these on she might feel -funny." - -"I don't think," returned Caroline quickly, "that she would feel very -funny." - -"Well, you know what I mean," said Wilfred, flushing a little. "You know -how it is with a fellow's mother." - -Caroline nodded gravely. - -"Yes, I have learned how it is with mothers," she said, thinking of the -mothers she had known since the war began, young though she was. - -"Other people don't care," said Wilfred, "but mothers are different." - -"Some other people don't care," answered Caroline softly, fighting hard -to keep back a rush of tears. - -In spite of herself her eyes would focus themselves upon that little -round blood-stained hole in the left breast of the jacket. She had not -realised before how straight that bullet had gone to the heart of the -other wearer. There was something terribly ominous about it. But Wilfred -blundered blindly on, unconscious of this emotion or of its cause. He -drew from the pocket in his blouse a paper. He sat down at the table, -beckoning Caroline as he did so. The girl came closer and looked over -his shoulder as he unfolded the paper. - -"I have written that letter," he said, "to the General, my father, that -is. Here it is. I have got to send it to him in some way. It is all -written but the last words and I am not sure about them. I'm not going -to say 'your loving son' or anything of that kind. This is a man's -letter, a soldier's letter. I love him, of course, but this is not the -time or the place to put that sort of a thing in. I have been telling -him----" He happened to glance up as he spoke and discovered to his -great surprise that Caroline had turned away from him and was no longer -looking at him. "Why, what's the matter?" he exclaimed. - -"Nothing, nothing," answered the girl, forcing herself to face him once -more. - -"I thought you wanted to help me," he continued. - -"Oh, yes! I do, I do." - -"Well, you can't help me way off there," said Wilfred. "Come closer." - -He spoke like a soldier already, thought the girl, but she meekly, for -her, obeyed the imperious command. He stared at her, as yet unconscious -but strangely agitated nevertheless. The silence was soon insupportable, -and Caroline herself broke it. - -"The--the----" she pointed at the trousers, "are they how you wanted -them?" - -"Fine," replied Wilfred; "they are just perfect. There isn't a girl in -Richmond who could have done them better. Now about the letter. I want -your advice on it; what do you think?" - -"Tell me what you said." - -"You want to hear it?" asked Wilfred. - -"I've got to, haven't I? How could I help you if I didn't know what it -was all about?" - -"You're a pretty good girl, Caroline. You will help me, won't you?" - -Her hand rested on the table as she bent over him, and he laid his own -hand upon it and squeezed it warmly, too warmly thought Caroline, as she -slowly drew it away and was sorry she did it the moment she had done so. - -"Yes, I will help you," she said. "But about the letter? You will have -to hurry. I am sure your mother will be here in a short time." - -"Well, that letter is mighty important, you know. Everything depends -upon it, much more than on mother's letter, I am sure." - -"I should think so," said the girl. - -She drew a chair up to the table and sat down by the side of the boy. - -"I am just going to give it to him strong," said Wilfred. - -"That's the way to give it to him," said Caroline. "He's a soldier and -he's accustomed to such things." - -"You can't fool much with father. He means business," said Wilfred; "but -he will find that I mean business, too." - -"That's right," assented Caroline sapiently, "everybody has got to mean -business now. What did you say to him?" - -"I said this," answered the youngster, reading slowly and with great -pride, "'General Ransom Varney, Commanding Division, Army of Northern -Virginia, Dear Papa'----" - -"I wouldn't say 'dear papa' to a General," interrupted Caroline -decisively. - -"No? What would you say?" - -"I would say 'Sir,' of course; that is much more businesslike and -soldiers are always so awfully abrupt." - -"You are right," said the boy, beginning again, "'General Ransom Varney, -Commanding Division, Army of Northern Virginia, Sir'--that sounds fine, -doesn't it?" - -"Splendid," said the girl, "go on." - -"'This is to notify you that I want you to let me join the Army right -now. If you don't, I will enlist anyway, that's all. The seventeen call -is out and I am not going to wait for the sixteen. Do you think I am a -damned coward'----" - -Wilfred paused and looked apprehensively at Caroline, who nodded with -eyes sparkling brightly. - -"That's fine," she said. - -"I thought it sounded like a soldier." - -"It does; you ought to have heard the Third Virginia swear----" - -"Oh," said Wilfred, who did not quite relish that experience; but he -went on after a little pause. "'Tom Kittridge has gone; he was killed -yesterday at Cold Harbor. Billie Fisher has gone and so has Cousin -Stephen. He is not sixteen, he lied about his age, but I don't want to -do that unless you make me. I will, though, if you do. Answer this right -now or not at all.'" - -"I think that is the finest letter I have ever heard," said Caroline -proudly, as Wilfred stopped, laid the paper down, and stared at her. - -"Do you really think so?" - -"It is the best letter I----" - -"I am glad you are pleased with it. Now the next thing is how to end -it." - -"Why, just end it." - -"But how?" - -"Sign your name, of course." - -"Nothing else?" - -"What else is there?" - -"Just Wilfred?" - -"No, Wilfred Varney." - -"That's the thing." He took up a pen from the table and scrawled his -name at the bottom of this interesting and historical document. "And you -think the rest of it will do?" - -"I should think it would," she assented heartily. "I wish your father -had it now." - -"So do I," said Wilfred. "Maybe it will take two or three days to get it -to him and I just can't wait that long." - -Caroline rose to her feet suddenly under the stimulus of a bright idea -that came into her mind. - -"I tell you what we can do." - -"What?" - -"We can telegraph him," she exclaimed. - -"Good idea," cried Wilfred, more and more impressed with Caroline's -wonderful resourcefulness, but a disquieting thought immediately struck -him. "Where am I going to get the money?" he asked dubiously. - -"It won't take very much." - -"It won't? Do you know what they are charging now? Over seven dollars a -word only to Petersburg." - -"Well, let them charge it," said Caroline calmly, "we can cut it down to -only a few words and the address won't cost anything." - -"Won't it?" - -"No, they never charge for that," continued the girl. "That's a heap of -money saved, and then we can use what we save on the address for the -rest." - -Wilfred stared at her as if this problem in economics was not quite -clear to his youthful brain, but she gave him no time to question her -ingenious calculations. - -"What comes after the address?" she asked in her most businesslike -manner. - -"'Sir.'" - -"Leave that out." - -Wilfred swept his pen through it. - -"He knows it already," said Caroline. "What's next?" - -"'This is to notify you that I want you to let me come right now.'" - -"We could leave out that last 'to,'" said Caroline. - -Wilfred checked it off, and then read, "'I want you--let me come right -now.' That doesn't sound right, and anyway it is such a little word." - -"Yes, but it costs seven dollars just the same as a big word," observed -Caroline. - -"But it doesn't sound right without it," argued the boy; "we have got to -leave it in. What comes after that?" - -Caroline in turn took up the note and read, - -"'If you don't, I'll come anyhow, that's all.'" - -"You might leave out 'that's all,'" said Wilfred. - -"No, don't leave that out. It's very important. It doesn't seem to be so -important, but it is. It shows--well--it shows that that's all there is -about it. That one thing might convince him." - -"Yes, but we've got to leave out something." - -"Not that, though. Perhaps there is something else. 'The seventeen call -is out'--that's got to stay." - -"Yes," said Wilfred. - -"'The sixteen comes next.' That's just got to stay." - -"Of course. Now, what follows?" - -"'I'm not going to wait for it,'" read Caroline. - -"We can't cut that out," said Wilfred; "we don't seem to be making much -progress, do we?" - -"Well, we will find something in a moment. 'Do you think I am'----" she -hesitated a moment, "'a damned coward,'" she read with a delicious -thrill at her rash, vicarious wickedness. - -Wilfred regarded her dubiously. He felt as an author does when he sees -his pet periods marked out by the blue pencil of the ruthless editor. - -"You might leave that out," he began, cutting valiantly at his most -cherished and admired phrase. - -"No," protested Caroline vehemently, "certainly not! That is the best -thing in the whole letter." - -"That 'damn' is going to cost us seven dollars, you know." - -"It is worth it," said Caroline, "it is the best thing you have written. -Your father is a General in the army, he'll understand that kind of -language. What's next? I know there's something now." - -"'Tom Kittridge has gone. He was killed yesterday at Cold Harbor.'" - -"Leave out that about"--she caught her breath, and her eyes fixed -themselves once more on that little round hole in the breast of his -jacket--"about his being killed." - -"But he was killed and so was Johnny Sheldon--I have his uniform, you -know." - -"I know he was, but you don't have to tell your father," said Caroline, -choking up, "you don't have to telegraph him the news, do you?" - -"No, of course not, but----" - -"That's all there is to the letter except the end." - -"Why, that leaves it just the same except the part about----" - -"Yes," said Caroline in despair, "and after all the work we have done." - -"Let's try it again," said Wilfred. - -"No," said Caroline, "there is no use. Everything else has got to stay." - -"Well, then we can't telegraph it. It would cost hundreds of dollars." - -"Yes, we can telegraph it," said Caroline determinedly, "you give it to -me. I'll get it sent." - -"But how are you going to send it?" asked Wilfred, extending the letter. - -"Never you mind," answered the girl. - -"See here!" the boy cried. "I am not going to have you spend your money, -and----" - -"There's no danger of that, I haven't any to spend." She took the letter -from his hand. "I reckon Douglass Foray'll send it for me. He's in the -telegraph office and he'll do most anything for me." - -"No," said Wilfred sternly. - -"What's the reason he won't?" asked the girl. - -"Because he won't." - -"What do you care so long as he sends it?" - -"Well, I do care and that's enough. I'm not going to have you making -eyes at Dug Foray on my account." - -"Oh, well," said the girl, blushing. "Of course if you feel that way -about it, I----" - -"That's the way I feel all right. But you won't give up the idea of -helping me, will you, because I--feel like that?" - -"No," answered Caroline softly, "I'll help you all I can--about that -letter, do you mean?" - -"Yes, about that letter and about other things, too." - -"Give it to me," said the girl, "I will go over it again." - -She sat down at the desk, and as she scanned it, Wilfred watched her -anxiously. To them Mrs. Varney entered. She had an open letter in one -hand and a cap and belt in the other. She stopped in the doorway and -motioned for some one in the hall to follow her, and an orderly entered -the room. His uniform was covered with dust, his sunburned, grim face -was covered with sweat and dust also. He stood in the doorway with the -ease of a veteran soldier, that is without the painful effort to be -precise or formal which marks the young aspirant for military honours. - -"Wilfred," said Mrs. Varney, quickly approaching him, "here is a letter -from your father." She extended the paper. "He sent it by his orderly." - -Wilfred stepped closer to the elder woman while Caroline slowly rose -from her chair, her eyes fixed on Mrs. Varney. - -"What does he say, mother?" asked Wilfred. - -"He says----" answered his mother with measured quietness, and -controlling herself with the greatest difficulty, "he tells me -that--that you--are----" in spite of her tremendous effort, her voice -failed her. "Read it yourself, my boy," she whispered pitifully. - -The letter was evidently exceedingly brief. A moment put Wilfred in -possession of its contents. His mother stood with head averted. Caroline -stared with trembling lips, a pale face, and a heaving bosom. It was to -the orderly that Wilfred addressed himself. - -"I am to go back with you?" - -"General's orders, sir," answered the soldier, saluting, "to enter the -service. God knows we need everybody now." - -"When do we start?" asked Wilfred eagerly, his face flushing as he -realised that his fondest desire was now to be gratified. - -"As soon as you are ready, sir. I am waiting." - -"I am ready now," said Wilfred. He turned to his mother. "You won't -mind, mother," he said, his own lips trembling a little for the first -time at the sight of her grief. - -Mrs. Varney shook her head. She stepped nearer to him, smoothed the hair -back from his forehead, and stretched out her arms to him as if she fain -would embrace him, but she controlled herself and handed him the cap and -belt. - -"Your brother," she said slowly, "seems to be a little better. He wants -you to take his cap and belt. I told him your father had sent for you, -and I knew you would wish to go to the front at once." - -Wilfred took the belt from her trembling hands, and buckled it about -him. His mother handed him the cap. - -"Howard says he can get another belt when he wants it, and you are to -have his blankets, too. I will go and get them." - -She turned and left the room. She was nearly at the end of her resisting -power, and but for the welcome diversion incident to her departure, she -could not have controlled herself longer. The last one! One taken, one -trembling, and now Wilfred! - -The boy entered into none of the emotions of his mother. He clapped the -cap on his head and threw it back. - -"Fits me just as if it were made for me," he said, settling the cap -firmly in place. "Orderly, I will be with you in a jiffy." - -Caroline stood still near the table, her eyes on the floor. - -"We won't have to send it now, will we?" he pointed to the letter. - -Caroline, with a long, deep sigh, shook her head, and slowly handed the -letter to him. Wilfred took it mechanically, his eyes fixed on the girl, -who had suddenly grown very white of face, trembly of lip, and teary of -eye-lashes. - -"You are very good," he said, tearing the letter into pieces, "to help -me like you did." - -"It was nothing," whispered the girl. - -"You can help me again, if you want to." - -Caroline lifted her eyes to his face, and he saw within their depths -that which encouraged him. - -"I can fight twice as well, if----" - -Poor little Caroline couldn't trust herself to speak. She nodded through -her tears. - -"Good-bye," said Wilfred, "you will write to me about helping me to -fight twice as well, won't you. You know what I mean?" - -Caroline nodded again. - -"I wouldn't mind if you telegraphed me that you would." - -What might have happened further will never be determined, for at this -juncture Mrs. Varney came back with an old faded blanket tied in a roll. -She handed it to the boy without speaking. Wilfred threw it over his -shoulder, and kissed his mother hurriedly. - -"You won't mind much, will you, mother. I will soon be back. Orderly!" -he cried. - -"Sir." - -"I am ready," said Wilfred. - -He threw one long, meaning look at Caroline, and followed the soldier -out of the door and across the hall. The opening and closing of an -outside door was heard, and then all was still. Mrs. Varney held her -hand to her heart, and long, shuddering breaths came from her. He might -soon be back, but how. She knew all about the famous injunction of the -Spartan woman, "With your shield or on it," but somehow she had had no -idea of the full significance until it came to her last boy, and for a -moment she was forgetful of poor, little Caroline until she saw the girl -wavering toward the door, and there was no disguise about the real tears -in her eyes now. - -"Are you going, dear?" asked Mrs. Varney, forcing herself to speak. - -Caroline nodded her head as before. - -"Oh, yes," continued the older woman, "your party, you have to be -there." - -At that the girl found voice, and without looking back she murmured, -"There won't be any party to-night." - - - - - CHAPTER VIII - - EDITH IS FORCED TO PLAY THE GAME - - -Caroline's departure was again interrupted by the inopportune reentrance -from the back hall of Mr. Arrelsford, who was accompanied by two -soldiers, whom he directed to remain by the door. As he advanced rapidly -toward Mrs. Varney, Caroline stepped aside toward the rear window. - -"Is he----" began Arrelsford, turning toward the window, and starting -back in surprise as he observed Caroline for the first time. - -"Yes, he is there," answered the woman. - -"Oh, Mrs. Varney," cried Caroline, "there's a heap of soldiers out in -your backyard here. You don't reckon anything's the matter, do you?" - -The girl did not lower her voice, and was greatly surprised at the -immediate order for silence which proceeded from Mr. Arrelsford, whose -presence she acknowledged with a very cool, indifferent bow. - -"No, there is nothing the matter, dear," said Mrs. Varney. "Martha," she -said to the old servant who had come in response to her ring, "I want -you to go home with Miss Mitford. You must not go alone, dear. -Good-night." - -"Thank you very much, Mrs. Varney," answered Caroline. "Come, Martha." -As she turned, she hesitated. "You don't reckon she could go with me -somewhere else, do you?" - -"Why, where else do you want to go at this hour, my dear girl?" asked -Mrs. Varney. - -"Just to--to the telegraph office," answered Caroline. - -Mr. Arrelsford, who had been waiting with ill-concealed impatience -during this dialogue, started violently. - -"Now!" exclaimed Mrs. Varney in great surprise, not noticing the actions -of her latest guest. "At this time of night?" - -"Yes," answered Caroline, "it is on very important business, and--I----" - -"Oh," returned Mrs. Varney, "if that is the case, Martha must go with -you." - -"You know we haven't a single servant left at our house," Caroline said -in explanation of her request. - -"I know," said Mrs. Varney, "and, Martha, don't leave her for an -instant." - -"No'm," answered Martha, "Ah'll take ca' ob huh." - -As soon as she had left the room, passing between the two soldiers, -Arrelsford took up the conversation. He spoke quickly and in a sharp -voice. He was evidently greatly excited. - -"What is she going to do at the telegraph office?" he asked. - -"I have no idea," answered the woman. - -"Has she had any conversation with him?" said Arrelsford, pointing to -the front of the house. - -"They were talking together in this room early this evening before you -came the first time, but it isn't possible she could----" - -"Anything is possible," snapped Arrelsford impatiently. He was evidently -determined to suspect everybody, and leave no stone unturned to prevent -the failure of his plans. "Corporal," he cried, "have Eddinger follow -that girl. He must get to the telegraph office as soon as she does, and -don't let any despatch she tries to send get out before I see it. Let -her give it in, but hold it. Make no mistake about that. Get an order -from the department for you to bring it to me." As the Corporal saluted -and turned away to give the order, Arrelsford faced Mrs. Varney again. -"Are they both out there?" - -"Yes," answered the woman. "Did you bring the man from Libby Prison?" - -"I did, the guards have him out in the street on the other side of the -house. When we get Thorne in here alone I'll have him brought over to -that back window and shoved into the room." - -"And where shall I stay?" - -"Out there," said Arrelsford, "by the lower door, opening upon the back -hall. You can get a good view of everything from there." - -"But if he sees me?" - -"He won't see you if it is dark in the hall." He turned to the Corporal -who had reentered and resumed his station. "Turn out those lights out -there," he said. "We can close these curtains, can't we?" - -"Certainly," said Mrs. Varney, opening the rear door and drawing the -heavy portieres, but leaving space between them so that any one in the -dark hall could see through them but not be seen from the room. - -"I don't want too much light in here, either," said Arrelsford. As he -spoke he blew out the candles in the two candelabra which had been -placed on the different tables, and left the large, long room but dimly -illuminated by the candles in the sconces on the walls. - -Mrs. Varney watched him with fascinated awe. In spite of herself there -still lingered a hope that Arrelsford might be mistaken. Thorne had -enlisted her interest, and he might under other conditions have aroused -her matronly affections, and she was hoping against hope that he might -yet prove himself innocent, not only because of his personality but as -well because the thought that she might have entertained a spy was -repugnant to her, and because of the honour of the Dumont family, which -was one of the oldest and most important ones in the western hills of -the Old Dominion. - -Arrelsford meantime completed his preparations by moving the couch which -Caroline Mitford had placed before the window back to the wall. - -"Now, Mrs. Varney," he said, stepping far back out of sight of the -window, "will you open the curtains? Do it casually, carelessly, please, -so as not to awaken any suspicion if you are seen." - -"But your soldiers, won't they----" - -"They are all at the back of the house. They came in the back way, and -the field in front is absolutely clear, although I have men concealed in -the street to stop any one who may attempt to escape that way." - -Mrs. Varney walked over to the window and drew back the curtains. She -stood for a moment looking out into the clear, peaceful quietness of a -soft spring night. The moon was full, and being somewhat low shone -through the long windows and into the room, the candle light not being -bright enough to dim its radiance. Her task being completed, she turned, -and once more the man who was in command pointed across the hall toward -the room on the other side. - -"Are those women in there yet?" he asked peremptorily. - -"Yes." - -"Where is the key?" - -Mrs. Varney left the room and went to the door. - -"It is on this side," she said. - -"Will you lock it, please?" - -The woman softly turned the key in the lock, and returned to the -drawing-room without a sound. As she did so the noise of the opening of -one of the long French windows in the front of the room attracted the -attention of both of them. Edith Varney entered the room nervously and -stepped forward. She began breathlessly, in a low, feverishly excited -voice. - -"Mamma!" - -Mrs. Varney hurried toward her and caught her outstretched hand. - -"I want to speak to you," whispered the girl. - -"We can't wait," said Arrelsford, stepping forward. - -"You must," persisted the girl. She turned to her mother again, "I can't -do it, I can't! Oh, let me go!" - -"But, my dear," said her mother, "you were the one who suggested -that----" - -"But I was sure then, and now----" - -"Has he confessed?" asked Mrs. Varney. - -"No, no," answered the girl with a glance of fear and apprehension -toward Arrelsford, who stood staring menacingly at her elbow. - -"Don't speak so loud," whispered the Secret Service Agent. - -"Edith," said her mother soothingly, "what is it that has changed you?" - -She waited for an answer, but none came. The girl's face had been very -pale but it now flushed suddenly with colour. - -"Dear," said her mother, "you must tell me." - -Edith motioned Mr. Arrelsford away. He went with ill-concealed -impatience to the far side of the room and waited nervously to give the -signal, anxious lest something should miscarry because of this -unfortunate unwillingness of the girl to play her part. - -"What is it, dear?" whispered her mother. - -"Mamma," said Edith, she forced the words out, "he--he--loves me." - -"Impossible!" returned Mrs. Varney, controlling her voice so that the -other occupant of the room could not hear. - -"Yes," faltered the girl, "and I--some one else must do it." - -"You don't mean," said Mrs. Varney, "that you return----" - -But Mr. Arrelsford's patience had been strained to the breaking point. -He did not know what interchange was going on between the two women, but -it must be stopped. He came forward resolutely. The girl saw his -determination in his face. - -"No, no," she whispered, "not that, not now!" - -She shrank away from him as she spoke. - -"But, Edith," said Mrs. Varney, "more reason now than ever." - -"I don't know what you are talking about," said Mr. Arrelsford, "but we -must go on." - -"But why--why are you doing this?" asked Edith, pleading desperately. - -"Because I please," snapped out the Secret Service Agent, and it was -quite evident that he was pleased. Some of his satisfaction was due to -the fact that he had by his own efforts at last succeeded in unearthing -a desperate plot, and had his hands on the plotters. That he was thereby -serving his country and demonstrating his fitness for his position of -responsibility and trust also added to his satisfaction, but this was -greatly enhanced by the fact that Thorne was his rival, and he could -make a guess that he was a successful rival in love as well as in war. - -"You have never pleased before," persisted Edith. "Hundreds of -suspicious cases have come up--hundreds of men have been run down--but -you preferred to sit at your desk in the War Department, until----" - -"Edith! Edith!" interposed her mother. - -"I can't discuss that now," said Arrelsford. - -"No, we will not discuss it. I will have nothing more to do with the -affair." - -"You won't," whispered Arrelsford threateningly. - -"Don't say that," urged Mrs. Varney. - -"Nothing, nothing at all," said Edith. - -"At your own suggestion, Miss Varney," persisted the Secret Service -Agent vehemently, "I agreed to accept a plan by which we could criminate -this friend of yours or establish his innocence. When everything is -ready you propose to withdraw and make the experiment a failure, perhaps -allowing him to escape altogether and being a party to treason against -your own country." - -Edith looked from Arrelsford's set face, with his bitter words, the -truth of which she was too just not to acknowledge, ringing in her ears, -to the face of her mother. It was a sweet face, full of sympathy and -love, but it was set in the same way as the man's. The patriotism of the -woman was aroused. The kind of help that Edith wanted in her mother's -look she did not find there. - -"You mustn't do this, Edith; you must do your part," said Mrs. Varney. - -The resolution of the girl gave way. - -"He is there," she faltered piteously, "he is there at the further end -of the veranda. What more do you want of me?" Her voice rose in spite of -her efforts to control herself. - -"Call him to the room, and do it naturally. If any one else should do it -he would suspect something immediately and be on his guard." - -"Very well," said the girl helplessly. "I will call him." - -She turned toward the window. - -"Wait," said Arrelsford, "one thing more. I want him to have this -paper." He handed Edith the communication which had been taken from -Jonas earlier in the evening. - -"What am I to do with this?" asked the girl, taking it. - -"Give it to him, and tell him where it came from. Tell him old Jonas got -it from a prisoner at Libby Prison and brought it to you." - -"But why am I to do this?" asked the girl. - -"Why not? If he is innocent, what's the harm? If not, if he is in the -plot and we can't catch him otherwise, the message on the paper will -send him to the telegraph office to-night, and that's where we want -him." - -"But I never promised that," said the girl with obvious reluctance to do -anything not only that might tend to harm the suspected, but that might -work to the furtherance of Arrelsford's designs. - -"Do you still believe him innocent?" sneered the man. - -Edith lifted her head and for the first time she looked Arrelsford full -in the face. - -"I still believe him innocent," answered the girl, slowly and with -deliberate emphasis. - -"Then why are you afraid to give him the paper?" asked Arrelsford, -directly with cunning adroitness. - -The girl, thus entrapped, clasped the paper to her breast, and turned -toward the window. Her mind was made up, but it was not necessary for -her to call. Her ear, tuned to every sound he made, caught the noise of -his footfall on the porch. She turned her head and spoke to the other -two. - -"Captain Thorne is coming," she whispered expressionlessly, "unless you -want to be seen, you had better go." - -"Here, this way, Mrs. Varney," said Arrelsford, taking that lady by the -arm and going down to the far end to the door covered by the portieres. - -The two disappeared, and it was impossible for a soul to see them in the -darkness of the hall, although they could see clearly enough, even in -the dimly lighted drawing-room, everything that would happen. Edith -stood as if rooted to the floor, the paper still in her hand, when -Thorne opened the sash which she had closed behind her and entered in -his turn the window through which she had come a short time before. He -stepped eagerly toward her. - -"You were so long," he whispered, "coming for me, that----" He stopped -abruptly, and looked at her face, "is anything the matter?" - -"No." - -"You had been away such a long time that I thought----" - -"Only a few minutes." - -"Only a few years," said the man passionately. His voice was low and -gently modulated, not because he had anything to conceal but because of -the softness of the moonlight and the few candles dimly flickering upon -the walls of the great room, the look in the girl's eyes, and the -feeling in his heart. A few minutes, the girl had said!--Ah, it was -indeed a few years to him. - -"If it was a few years to you," returned the girl with a violent effort -at lightness, although her heart was torn to pieces with the emotions of -the moment, "what a lot of time there is." - -"No," said Thorne, "there is only to-night." - -Edith threw out her hand to check what she would fain have heard, but -Thorne caught it. He came closer to her. - -"There's only to-night, and you in the world," he said. - -"You overwhelm me." - -"I can't help myself. I came here determined not to tell you how I loved -you, and for the last half hour I have been telling you nothing else. I -could tell you all my life and never finish. Ah, my darling, my -darling,--there's only to-night and you." - -Edith swayed toward him for a moment, completely influenced by his -ardour, but then drew back. - -"No, no," she faltered. "You mustn't." She glanced around the room -apprehensively. "No, no, not now!" - -"You are right," said the man. She dragged herself away from him. He -would not retain her against her will, and without a struggle he -released her hand. "You are right. Don't mind what I said, Miss Varney. -I have forgotten myself, believe me." He drew further away from her. "I -came to make a brief call, to say good-bye, and----" - -He turned and walked toward the hall door, after making her a low bow, -and it was not without a feeling of joy that she noticed that he walked -unsteadily, blindly. - -"Oh, Captain Thorne," she said, just as he had reached the door, "I----" - -He stopped and looked back. - -"Before you go I want to ask your advice about something." - -"My advice!" - -"Yes, it seems to be a military matter, and----" - -"What is it?" asked Thorne, turning back. - -"What do you think this means?" said the girl, handing him the folded -despatch. - -She had intended to look him full in the face as he took it, but at the -last moment her courage failed her. She looked away and did not see the -instant but quickly mastered start of surprise. She was only conscious -that Thorne had possessed himself of the document. - -"What is it?" asked Thorne, holding it in his hand. - -"That is what I want you to tell me," said the girl. - -"Oh, don't you know?" said Thorne, now entirely master of himself. - -"No," answered the girl, but there was something in her voice which now -fully aroused the suspicions of the man. - -"It appears to be a note from some one," he said casually, "but it is so -dark in here. With your permission, I will light some of the candles on -the table, and then we can see what it is." - -He took one of the candles from the sconces on the wall and lighted the -candelabra that stood on the nearest table. Holding the paper near the -light, he glanced around rapidly, and then read it, giving no outward -evidence of his surprise and alarm, although the girl was now watching -him narrowly. He glanced at her and then looked at the paper again, and -slowly read aloud its message. - -"'_Attack to-night?_'" he said very deliberately. "Umph, '_Plan 3? -Attack to-night, plan 3!_' This seems to be in some code, Miss Varney, -or a puzzle." - -"It was taken from a Yankee prisoner." - -"From a Yankee prisoner!" he exclaimed in brilliantly assumed surprise. - -"Yes, one captured to-day. He is down at Libby now. He gave it to one of -our servants, old Jonas, and----" - -"That's a little different," said Thorne, examining the paper again. "It -puts another face on the matter. This may be something important. -'_Attack to-night_,'" he read again, "_'Plan 3, use telegraph'!_ This -sounds important to me, Miss Varney. It looks to me like a plot to use -the Department Telegraph lines. To whom did Jonas give it?" - -"To no one." - -"Well, how did you----" - -"We took it away from him," answered Edith. - -This was a very different statement from her original intention, but for -the moment the girl forgot her part. - -"Oh," said Thorne, "I think that was a mistake." - -"A mistake?" - -"Yes." - -"But why?" - -"You should have let him deliver it, but it is too late now. Never -mind." He turned toward the door. - -Edith caught him by the arm. Was he going out to certain death or what? - -"What are you going to do?" she asked breathlessly. - -"Find Jonas, and make him tell for whom this paper was intended. He is -the man we want." - -The girl released him, and caught her throat with her hand. - -"Captain Thorne," she choked out, and there was joy and triumph in her -face, "they have lied about you." - -Thorne turned to her quickly. - -"Lied about me!" he exclaimed. "What do you mean?" - -He caught the girl's hands in his and bent over her. - -"Don't be angry," pleaded Edith, "I didn't think it would be like this." - -"Yes, yes, but what do you mean?" - -Edith sought to draw her hands away from him, but Thorne would not be -denied. - -"I must know," he said. - -"Let me go," pleaded the girl, "don't you understand----" - -But what she might have said further was interrupted by the sharp, stern -voice of the Corporal outside. He spoke loud and clearly, there was no -necessity for precaution now. - -"This way! Look out for that side, will you?" - -Thorne released the hands of the woman he loved and stood listening. -Edith Varney took advantage of such a diversion to dart through the -upper door, the nearer one, into the hall. - -"I don't want to be here now," she said, as she flew away. - -Thorne's hand went to his revolver which hung at his belt. He had not -time to draw it before the Corporal and the two men burst through the -door. There were evidently others outside. Thorne's hand fell away from -his revolver, and his position was one of charming nonchalance. - -"Out here!" cried the Corporal to one of the soldiers. "Look out there!" -pointing to the doorway through which the two men instantly disappeared. - -"What is it, Corporal?" asked Thorne composedly. - -The Corporal turned and saluted. - -"Prisoner, sir, broke out of Libby! We've run him down the street, and -he turned in here somewhere. If he comes in that way, would you be good -enough to let us know?" - -"Go on, Corporal," said Thorne coolly. "I'll look out for this window." - -He stepped down the long room toward the far window, drew the curtains, -and with his hand on his revolver, peered out into the trees beyond the -front of the house. - - - - - CHAPTER IX - - THE SHOT THAT KILLED - - -A glance through the window showed Captain Thorne that the yard beyond, -which had been empty all evening, was now full of armed men. The -Corporal had gone out through the hall door back of the house whence he -had entered. There was no doubt but that the back windows would be -equally well guarded. The house was surrounded, no escape was possible. -He was trapped, virtually a prisoner, although for the time being, they -had left him a certain liberty--the liberty of that one large room! It -was quite evident to him that he was the object of their suspicions, and -he more than feared that his real affiliations had been at last -discovered. - -Apparently, there would be no opportunity now in which he could carry -out his part in the cunningly devised scheme of attack. "_Plan 3_" would -inevitably result in failure, as so many previous plans had resulted, -because he would not be able to send the orders that would weaken the -position. The best he could hope for, in all probability, was the short -shrift of a spy. He had staked his life on the game and it appeared that -he had lost. - -Nay, more than life had been wagered, honour. He knew the contempt in -which the spy was held; he knew that even the gallantry and intrepidity -of Andre and Hale had not saved them from opprobrium and disgrace. - -And there was even more than honour upon the board. His love! Not the -remotest idea of succumbing to the attractions of Edith Varney ever -entered his head when he attempted the desperate, the fatal role. At -first he had regarded the Varney house and herself as a chessboard and a -pawn in the game. The strength of character which had enabled him to -assume the unenviable part he played, because of his country's need, for -his country's good, and which would have carried him through the obloquy -and scorn that were sure to be visited upon him--with death at the -end!--did not stand him in good stead when it came to thoughts of her. -Until he yielded to his passion, and broke his self-imposed vow of -silence, he had fought a good fight. Now he realised that the woman who -should accept his affections would compromise herself forever in the -eyes of everything she held dear, even if he succeeded and lived, which -was unlikely. - -He had never, so he fancied, in the least and remotest way given her any -evidence that he loved her. In reality, she had read him like an open -book, as women always do. He had come there that night to get the -message from Jonas, and then to bid her good-bye forever, without -disclosing the state of his affections. If he succeeded in manipulating -the telegraph and carrying out his end of the project, he could see no -chance of escape. Ultimate detection and execution appeared certain, and -any avowal would therefore be useless. But he had counted without her. -She had shown her feelings, and he had fallen. To the temptation of her -presence and her artless disclosure, he had not been able to make -adequate resistance. - -He was the last man on earth to blame her or to reproach her for that; -but the fierce, impetuous temperament of the man was overwhelming when -it once broke loose, and he felt that he must tell her or die. - -Because of his iron self-repression for so long he was the less able to -stand the pressure in the end. He had thrown everything to the winds, -and had told her how he loved her. - -Out there in the moonlight in the rose arbour, the scent of the flowers, -the southern night wind, the proximity of the girl, her eyes shining -like stars out of the shadows in which they stood, the pallor of her -face, the rise and fall of her bosom, the fluttering of her hand as -unwittingly or wittingly, who knows, she touched him, had intoxicated -him, and his love and passion had broken all bounds, and he had spoken -to her and she had answered. She loved him. What did that mean to him -now? - -Sometimes woman's love makes duty easy, sometimes it makes it hard. -Sometimes it is the crown which victors wear, and sometimes it is the -pall that overshadows defeat. - -What Edith Varney knew or suspected concerning him, he could not tell. -That she knew something, that she suspected something, had been evident, -but whatever her knowledge and suspicion, they were not sufficiently -powerful or telling to prevent her from returning love for love, kiss -for kiss. But did she love him in spite of her knowledge and suspicion? -The problem was too great for his solution then. - -These things passed through his mind as he stood there by the window, -with his hand on his revolver, waiting. It was all he could do. -Sometimes even to the most fiery and the most alert of soldiers comes -the conviction that there is nothing to do but wait. And if he thinks of -it, he will sympathise with the women who are left behind in times of -war, who have little to do but wait. - -The room had suddenly become his world, the walls his horizon, the -ceiling his sky. At any exit he would find the way barred. Why had they -left him in the room, free, armed, his revolver in his hand? - -None but the bravest would have entered upon such a career as he had -chosen. His nerves were like steel in the presence of danger. He had -trembled before the woman in the garden a moment since; the stone walls -of the house were no more rigidly composed than he in the drawing-room -now. It came to him that there was nothing left but one great battle in -that room unless they shot him from behind door or window or portiere, -giving him no chance. If they did confront him openly he would show them -that if he had chosen the Secret Service and the life of a spy he could -fight and die like a man and a soldier. He held some lives within the -chamber of his revolver, and they should pay did they give him but a -chance. - -Indeed, they were already giving him a chance, he thought to himself as -he waited and listened. He was utterly unable to divine why he was at -liberty in the room, and why he was left alone, or what was toward. - -In the very midst of these crowding and tumultuous thoughts which ran -through his mind in far, far less time than it has taken to record them, -he heard a noise at the window at the farther side of the room, as if -some one fumbled at the catch. Instantly Thorne shrank back behind the -portieres of the window he was guarding, not completely concealing -himself but sufficiently hid as to be unobserved except by careful -scrutiny in the dim light. Once more he clutched the butt of his -revolver swinging at his waist. He bent his body slightly, and even the -thought of Edith Varney passed from his mind. He stood ready, powerful, -concentrated, determined, confronting an almost certain enemy with the -fierce heart and envenomed glance of the fighter at bay. - -He had scarcely assumed this position when the window was opened, and a -man was thrust violently through into the room. At the first glance, -Thorne as yet unseen, recognised the newcomer as his elder brother, -Henry Dumont. Unlike the two famous brothers of the parable, these two -loved each other. - -Thorne's muscles relaxed, his hand still clutched the butt of his -revolver, he was still alert, but here was not an enemy. He began at -once to fathom something at least of the plan and the purpose of the -people who had trapped him. In a flash he perceived that his enemies -were not yet in possession of all the facts which would warrant them in -laying hands upon him. He was suspected, but the final evidence upon -which to turn suspicion into certainty was evidently lacking. He could -feel, although he could not see them, that every door and window had -eyes, solely for him, and that he was closely watched for some false -move which would betray him. The plan for which he had ventured so much -was still possible; he had not yet failed. His heart leaped in his -breast. The clouds around his horizon lifted a little. There was yet a -possibility that he could succeed, that he could carry out his part of -the cunningly devised and desperate undertaking, the series of events of -which this night and the telegraph office were to be the culmination. - -A less cautious and a less resourceful man might have evinced some -emotion, might have gone forward or spoken to the newcomer, would have -at least done something to have attracted his attention, but save for -that relaxation of the tension, which no one could by any possibility -observe, Thorne stood motionless, silent, waiting; just as he might have -stood and waited had he been what he seemed and had the newcomer been -utterly unknown and indifferent to him. - -His brother was dressed in the blue uniform of the United States; like -the others it had seen good service, but as Thorne glanced from his own -clothes to those of his brother, the blood came to his face, it was like -seeing his own flag again. For a fleeting moment he wished that he had -on his own rightful uniform himself and that he had never put it off for -anything; but duty is not made up of wishes, gratified or ungratified, -and the thought passed as he watched the other man. - -Henry Dumont had been thrust violently into the room by the soldiers -outside. He had been captured, as Arrelsford had said, earlier in the -day; he had allowed himself to be taken. He had been thrust into Libby -Prison with dozens of prisoners taken in the same sortie. He had not -been searched, but then none of the others had been; had he been -selected for that unwonted immunity alone it would have awakened his -suspicions, but the Confederates had made a show of great haste in -disposing of their prisoners, and had promised to search them in the -morning. Therefore, Henry Dumont had retained the paper which later he -had given Jonas, when by previous arrangement he made his daily visit to -the prison. - -He had been greatly surprised, when about a quarter to nine o'clock, a -squad of soldiers had taken him from the prison, had marched him -hurriedly through the streets with which he was entirely unfamiliar, and -had taken him to the residence section of the city, and had halted at -the back of a big house. He had asked no questions, and no explanations -had been vouchsafed to him. He was more surprised than ever when he was -taken up to the porch, the window was opened, and he was thrust -violently into a room, so violently that he staggered and had some -difficulty in recovering his balance. - -He made a quick inspection of the room. Thorne, in the deeper shadows at -the farther end of the room was invisible to him. He stood motionless -save for the turning of his head as he looked around him. He moved a few -steps toward the end of the room, opposite his entrance, passed by the -far door opening into the back hall which was covered with portieres, -and went swiftly toward the near door into the front hall. The door was -slightly ajar, and as he came within range of the opening he saw in the -shadows of the hall, crossed bayonets and men. No escape that way! - -He went on past the door toward the large windows at the front of the -house and in another moment would have been at the front window where -Thorne stood. The latter dropped the curtain and stepped out into the -room. - -For the thousandth part of a second the two brothers stared at each -other, and then in a fiercely intense voice, Thorne, playing his part, -desperately called out: - -"Halt! You are a prisoner!" - -Both brothers were quick witted, both knew that they were under the -closest observation, both realised that they were expected to betray -relationship, which would incriminate both, and probably result fatally -for one and certainly ruin the plan. Thorne's cue was to regard his -brother as the prisoner whom it was important to arrest, and Dumont's -cue was to regard his brother as an enemy with whom it was his duty to -struggle. The minds of the two were made up instantly. With a quick -movement Dumont sought to pass his brother, but with a movement equally -as rapid, Thorne leaped upon him, shouting again: - -"Halt, I say!" - -The two men instantly grappled. It was no mimic struggle that they -engaged in, either. They were of about equal height and weight, if -anything Thorne was the stronger, but this advantage was offset by the -fact that he had been recently ill, and the two fought therefore on -equal terms at first. It was a fierce, desperate grapple in which they -met. As they struggled violently, both by a common impulse, reeled -toward that part of the room near the mantel which was farthest away -from doors or windows, and where they would be the least likely to be -overheard or to be more closely observed. As they fought together, -Thorne called out again: - -"Corporal of the Guard, here is your man! Corporal of the Guard, what -are you doing?" - -At that instant the two reeling bodies struck the wall next to the -mantel with a fearful smash, and a chair that stood by was overturned by -a quick movement on the part of Henry Dumont, who did not know his -brother had already received the important message. In the confusion of -the moment, he hissed in Thorne's ear: - -"_Attack to-night, plan 3, use telegraph!_ Did you get that?" - -"Yes," returned Thorne, still keeping up the struggle. - -"Good," said Dumont. "They are watching us. Shoot me in the leg." - -"No, I can't do it," whispered Thorne. - -All the while the two men were reeling and staggering and struggling -against the wall and furniture. The encounter would have deceived the -most suspicious. - -"Shoot, shoot," said the elder. - -"I can't shoot my own brother," the younger panted out. - -"It is the only way to throw them off the scent," persisted Dumont. - -"I won't do it," answered Thorne, and then he shouted again: - -"Corporal of the Guard, I have your prisoner!" - -"Let me go, damn you!" roared Dumont furiously, making another desperate -effort,--"if you don't do it, I will," he added under his breath. "Give -me the revolver!" - -"No, no, Harry," was the whispered reply, and "Surrender, curse you!" -the shouted answer. "You'll hurt yourself," he pleaded. - -"I don't care," muttered Dumont. "Let me have it." - -His hands slipped down from Thorne's shoulders and grasped the butt of -the revolver. The two grappled for it fiercely, but the struggle was -beginning to tell on Thorne, who was not yet in full possession of his -physical vitality. His long illness had sapped his strength. - -"Don't, don't, for God's sake!" he whispered, and then shouted -desperately, "Here's your man, Corporal, what's the matter with you?" - -"Give me that gun," said Dumont, and in spite of himself his voice rose -again. There was nothing suspicious in the words, it was what he might -have said had the battle been a real one; as he spoke by a more violent -effort he wrenched the weapon from the holster and away from Thorne's -detaining hand. The latter sought desperately to repossess himself of -it. - -[Illustration: "Look out, Harry!" he implored] - -"Look out, Harry! You'll hurt yourself," he implored, but the next -moment by a superhuman effort Dumont threw him back. As Thorne -staggered, Dumont turned the pistol on himself. Recovering himself with -incredible swiftness, Thorne leaped at his brother, and the two figures -went down together with a crash in the midst of which rang out the sharp -report of the heavy service weapon. Instead of shooting himself -harmlessly in the side, in the struggle Dumont had unfortunately shot -himself through the lung. - -Not at first comprehending exactly what had happened, Thorne rose to his -feet, took the revolver from the other's hand, and stood over the body -of his mortally wounded brother, the awful anguish of his heart in his -face. Fortunately, they were near the far end of the room, next the -wall, and no one could see the look in Thorne's eyes or the distortion -of his features in his horror. - -"Harry!" he whispered. "My God, you have shot yourself!" - -But Henry Dumont was past speaking. He simply smiled at his brother, and -closed his eyes. The next instant the room was filled with light and -sound. From every window and door people poured in; the soldiers from -the porches, from the hall, Mrs. Varney, Arrelsford and Edith; from the -other side of the hall a hubbub of screams and cries rose from behind -the locked door where the sewing women sat. Martha brought up the rear -with lights, which Arrelsford took from her and set on the table. The -room was again brightly illuminated. - -As they crowded through the various entrances, their eyes fell upon -Thorne. He was leaning nonchalantly against the table, his revolver in -his hand, a look of absolute indifference upon his face. His acting was -superb had they but known it. He could not betray himself now and make -vain his brother's sublime act of self-sacrifice for the cause. There -was a tumult of shouts and sudden cries: - -"Where is he? What has he done? This way now!" - -Most of those who entered had eyes only for the man lying upon the -floor, blood welling darkly through his grey shirt exposed by the -opening of his coat which had been torn apart in the struggle. Three -people had eyes only for Thorne, the man who hated him, the girl who -loved him, and the woman who suspected him. Between the soldiers and -these three stood the Corporal of the Guard, representing as it were, -the impartial law. - -Thorne did not glance once at the girl who loved him, or at the man who -hated him, or at the woman who suspected him. He fixed his eyes upon the -Corporal of the Guard. - -"There's your prisoner, Corporal," he said calmly, without a break in -his voice, although such anguish possessed him as he had never before -experienced and lived through, but his control was absolutely perfect. - -And his quiet words and quiet demeanour increased the hate of one man, -and the suspicions of one woman, and the love and admiration of the -other. - -"There's your prisoner," he said, slipping his revolver slowly back into -its holster. "We had a bit of a struggle and I had to shoot him. Look -out for him." - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - BOOK III - - WHAT HAPPENED AT TEN O'CLOCK - - - - - CHAPTER X - - CAROLINE MITFORD WRITES A DESPATCH - - -The War Department Telegraph Office had once been a handsome apartment, -one of those old-fashioned, heavily corniced, marble-manteled, -low-windowed, double-doored rooms in a public building. It was now in a -state of extreme dilapidation, the neglected and forlorn condition -somehow being significant of the moribund Confederacy in which -practically everything was either dead or dying but the men and women. - -A large double door in one corner gave entrance to a corridor. The doors -were of handsome mahogany, but they had been kicked and battered until -varnish and polish had both disappeared and they looked as dilapidated -as the cob-webbed corners and the broken mouldings. On the other side of -the room, three long French windows gave entrance to a shallow balcony -of cast iron fantastically moulded, which hung against the outer wall. -Beyond this the observer peering through the dusty panes could discern -the large white pillars of the huge porch which overhung the front of -the building. Further away beyond the shadow of the porch were visible -the lights of the sleeping town, seen dimly in the bright moonlight. - -The handsome furniture which the room had probably once contained, had -been long since displaced by the rude telegraph equipment and the heavy -plaster cornices and mouldings were sadly marred by telegraph wires -which ran down the walls to the tables, rough pine affairs, which -carried the instruments. There were two of these tables, each with a -telegraph key at either end. One of them stood near the centre of the -room, and the other some distance away was backed up against the fine -old marble mantel, chipped, battered, ruined like the rest of the room. -For the rest, the apartment contained a desk, shelves with the batteries -on them, and half a dozen chairs of the commonest and cheapest variety. -The floor was bare, dusty, and tobacco stained. The sole remnant of the -ancient glory of the room was a large handsome old clock on the wall -above the mantel, the hands of which pointed to the hour of ten. - -But if the room itself was in a dingy and even dirty condition, the -occupants were very much alive. One young man, Lieutenant Allison, sat -at the table under the clock, and another, Lieutenant Foray, at the -table in the centre of the room. Both were busy sending or receiving -messages. The instruments kept up a continuous clicking, heard -distinctly above the buzz of conversation which came from half a dozen -youngsters, scarcely more than boys, grouped together at the opposite -side of the room, waiting to take to the various offices of the -Department, or to the several officials of the government, the messages -which were constantly being handed out to them by the two military -operators. - -In the midst of this busy activity there came the noise of drums, -faintly at first, but presently growing clearer and louder, while the -tramp of many feet sounded in the street below. - -"What's that?" asked one messenger of the other. - -"I don't know," was the answer, "troops of some kind. I'll look out and -see." - -He stepped to one of the long windows, opened it, and went out on the -balcony. The other young fellows clustered at his back or peered through -the other windows. - -"It's the Richmond Greys," said the observer outside. - -There was an outburst of exclamations from the room, except from the -operators, who had no time to spare from their work. - -"Yes, that's what they are. You can see their uniforms. They must be -sending them down to the lines at Petersburg," said another. - -"Well, I don't believe they would send the Greys out unless there was -something going on to-night," observed a third. - -"To-night, why, good heavens, it's as quiet as a tomb," broke in a -fourth. "I don't hear a sound from the front." - -"That's probably what's worrying them. It is so damn unusual," returned -the first messenger. - -"Things have come to a pretty pass if the Grandfathers of the Home Guard -have got to go to the front," remarked another. - -"Following in the footsteps of their grandsons," said the first. "I wish -I could go. I hate this business of carrying telegrams and----" - -"Messenger here!" cried Lieutenant Foray, folding up a message and -inserting it in its envelope. - -The nearest youngster detached himself from the group while all of them -turned away from the windows, stepped to the side of the officer, and -saluted. - -"War Department," said Foray tersely. "Tell the Secretary it's from -General Lee, and here's a duplicate which you are to give to the -President." - -"Very good, sir," said the messenger, taking the message and turning -away. - -As he passed out of the door, an orderly entered the room, stepped to -the side of Lieutenant Foray, the senior of the two officers on duty, -clicked his heels together, and saluted. - -"Secretary's compliments, sir, and he wants to know if there is anything -from General Lee," he said. - -"My compliments to the Secretary," returned the Lieutenant. "I have just -sent a message to his office with a duplicate for the President." - -"The President's with the Cabinet yet, sir," returned the orderly. "He -didn't go home. The Secretary's there, too. They want an operator right -quick to take down some cipher telegrams." - -Lieutenant Foray looked over to his subordinate. - -"Got anything on, Charlie?" he called out. - -"Not right now," answered Lieutenant Allison. - -"Well, go over with the orderly to the Cabinet room and take down their -ciphers. Hurry back though," said Foray as Allison slipped on his -coat--both officers had been working in their shirt sleeves--"we need -you here. We are so short-handed in the office now that I don't know how -we are going to get through to-night. I can't handle four instruments, -and----" - -"I will do my best," said Allison, turning away rapidly. - -He bowed as he did so to a little party which at that moment entered the -room through the door, obstructing his passage. There were two very -spick and span young officers with Miss Caroline Mitford between them, -while just behind loomed the ponderous figure of old Martha. - -"You wait in the hall right here, Martha; I won't be long," said -Caroline, pausing a moment to let the others precede her. - -The two young men stopped on either side of the door and waited for her. - -"Miss Mitford," said the elder, "this is the Department Telegraph -Office." - -"Thank you," said Caroline, entering the room with only the briefest of -acknowledgments of the profound bows of her escorts. - -She was evidently very much agitated and troubled over what she was -about to attempt. The two young men followed her as she stepped down the -long room. - -"I am afraid you have gone back on the Army, Miss Mitford," said one of -them pleasantly. - -"Gone back on the Army, why?" asked Caroline mystified. - -"Seems like we should have a salute as you went by." - -"Oh, yes," said the girl. - -She raised her hand and saluted in a perfunctory and absent-minded -manner, then turned away from them. She nodded to the messengers, some -of whom she knew. One of them, who knew her best, stepped forward. - -"Good-evening, Miss Mitford, could we do anything in the office for you -to-night?" he asked. - -"Oh, yes,--you can. I want to send a--a telegram." - -The other of the young officers who had escorted her, who had remained -silent, now entered the conversation. - -"Have you been receiving some bad news, Miss Mitford?" he asked -sympathetically. - -"Oh, no." - -"Maybe some friend of yours has gone to the front, and----" interposed -the first officer. - -"Well, supposing he had," said Caroline, "would you call that bad news?" - -"I don't know as you would exactly like to----" - -"Let me tell you," said Caroline, "as you don't seem to know, that all -my friends have gone to the front." - -There was an emphasis on the pronoun which should have warned the young -soldier what was about to occur, but he rushed blindly to his doom. - -"I hope not all, Miss Mitford," he replied. - -"Yes, all," rejoined Caroline, making the "all" very emphatic, "for if -they did not they wouldn't be my friends." - -"But some of us are obliged to stay here to take care of you, you know," -contributed the other young man. - -"Well, there are altogether too many of you trying to take care of me," -said Caroline saucily, with some return of her usual lightness, "and you -are all discharged." - -"Do you mean that, Miss Mitford?" - -"I certainly do." - -"Well, I suppose if we are really discharged, we will have to go," -returned the other. - -"Yes," said his companion regretfully, "but we are mighty sorry to see -you in such low spirits." - -"Would you like to put me in real good spirits, you two?" asked -Caroline, resolved to read these young dandies who were staying at home -a lesson. - -"Wouldn't we!" they both cried together. "There's nothing we would like -better." - -"Well, I will tell you just what to do then," returned the girl gravely -and with deep meaning. - -Everybody in the room, with the exception of Lieutenant Foray, was now -listening intently. - -"Start right out this very night," said the girl, "and don't stop till -you get to where my real friends are, lying in trenches and ditches and -earth-works between us and the Yankee guns." - -"But really, Miss Mitford," began one, his face flushing at her severe -rebuke, "you don't absolutely mean that." - -"So far as we are concerned," said one of the messengers, including his -companions with a sweep of his hand, "we'd like nothing better, but they -won't let us go, and----" - -"I know they won't," said Caroline, "but so far as you two gentlemen are -concerned, I really mean it. Go and fight the Yankees a few days and lie -in ditches a few nights until those uniforms you've got on look as if -they might have been of some use to somebody. If you are so mighty -anxious to do something for me, that is what you can do. It is the only -thing I want, it is the only thing anybody wants." - -"Messenger here!" cried Lieutenant Foray as the two young officers, -humiliated beyond expression by the taunts of the impudent young maiden, -backed away and finally managed to make an ungraceful exit through the -open door, followed by the titters of the messengers, who took advantage -of the presence of the young girl to indulge in this grave breach of -discipline. - -"Messenger!" cried Foray impatiently. - -"Here, sir," came the answer. - -"Commissary General's office!" was the injunction with which Foray -handed the man the telegram. - -He looked up at the same time, and with a great start of surprise caught -sight of Caroline at the far end of the long room. - -"Lieutenant Foray," began the girl. - -"I beg your pardon, Miss Mitford," said the operator, scrambling to his -feet and making a frantic effort to get into his coat. "I heard some one -come in, but I was busy with an important message and didn't appreciate -that----" - -"No, never mind, don't put on your coat," said Caroline. "I came on -business, and----" - -"You want to send a telegram?" asked the Lieutenant. - -"Yes." - -"I am afraid we can't do anything for you here, Miss Mitford, this is -the War Department Official Telegraph Office, you know." - -"Yes, I know," said Caroline, "but it is the only way to send it where I -want it to go, and I----" - -At that moment the clicking of a key called Lieutenant Foray away. - -"Excuse me," he said, stepping quickly to his table. - -Miss Mitford, who had never before been in a telegraph office, was very -much mystified by the peremptory manner in which the officer had cut her -short, but she had nothing to do but wait. Presently the message was -transcribed, another messenger was called. - -"Over to the Department, quick as you can go. They are waiting for it," -said Foray. "Now, what was it you wanted me to do, Miss Mitford?" - -"Just to--to send a telegram," faltered Caroline. - -"It's private business, is it not?" said Foray. - -"Yes, it is strictly private." - -"Then you will have to get an order from----" - -"That is what I thought," said Caroline, "so here it is." - -"Why didn't you tell me before," returned Foray, taking the paper. -"Oh,--Major Selwin----" - -"Yes, he--he's one of my friends." - -"It's all right then," interposed the Lieutenant, who was naturally very -businesslike and peremptory. - -He pushed a chair to the other side of the table, placed a small sheet -of paper on the table in front of her, and shoved the pen and ink -conveniently to hand. - -"You can write there, Miss Mitford," he said. - -"Thank you," said Caroline, looking rather ruefully at the tiny piece of -paper which had been provided for her. - -Paper was a scarce article then, and every scrap was precious. She -decided that such a piece was not sufficient for her purposes, and when -Lieutenant Foray's back was turned she took a larger piece of paper of -sufficient capacity to contain her important message, to the composition -of which she proceeded with much difficulty and many pauses and sighs. - - - - - CHAPTER XI - - MR. ARRELSFORD AGAIN INTERPOSES - - -Nobody had any time to devote to Miss Mitford just then, for a perfect -rain of messages came and went as she slowly composed her own despatch. -Messengers constantly came in while others went out. The lines were -evidently busy that night. Finally there came a pause in the despatches -coming and going, and Foray remembering her, looked over toward the -other end of the table where she sat. - -"Is that message of yours ready yet, Miss Mitford?" he asked. - -"Yes," said Caroline, rising and folding it. "Of course you have got to -take it." - -"Certainly," returned the operator smiling. "If it's to be sent, I have -to send it." - -"Well, here it is then," said the girl, extending the folded paper which -Lieutenant Foray took and unceremoniously opened. - -"Oh!" exclaimed Caroline, quickly snatching the paper from his hand, "I -didn't tell you you could read it." - -Foray stared at her in amazement. - -"What do you want me to do with it?" - -"I want you to send it." - -"Well, how am I going to send it if I don't read it?" - -"Do you mean to say that----" began the girl, who had evidently -forgotten--if she had ever known--how telegrams were sent. - -"I mean to say that I have got to spell out every word on the key. -Didn't you know that?" - -"Oh, I did, of course--I--but I had forgotten," said Caroline, dismayed -by this unexpected development. - -"Is there any harm in my reading the message that I have to send?" - -"Why I wouldn't have you see it for the world! My gracious!" - -"Is it as bad as that, Miss Mitford?" he said laughing. - -"Bad! It isn't bad at all, but I wouldn't have it get all over town for -anything." - -"It will never get out of this office, Miss Mitford," returned Foray -composedly. "We are not allowed to mention anything that goes on in -here." - -"You wouldn't mention it?" - -"Certainly not. All sorts of private messages go through here, and----?" - -"Do they?" - -"Every day. Now if that telegram is important----?" - -"Important, well I should think it was. It is the most important----" - -"Then I reckon you had better trust it to me," said Lieutenant Foray. - -"Yes," said Caroline, blushing a vivid crimson, "I reckon I had." - -She handed him the telegram. He opened it, glanced at it, bit his lips -to control his emotion, and then his hands reached for the key. - -"Oh, stop!" cried Caroline. - -Foray looked at her, his eyes full of amusement, his whole body shaking -with suppressed laughter, which she was too wrought up to perceive. - -"Wait till--I--I don't want to be here while you spell out every word--I -couldn't stand that." - -Caroline had evidently forgotten that the spelling would be in the Morse -Code, and that it would be about as intelligible to her as Sanskrit. The -Lieutenant humoured her, and waited while Caroline turned toward the -door and summoned Martha to her. She did not leave the room, however, -for her way was barred by a young private in a grey uniform. The -newcomer looked hastily at her and the old negress, stopped by them, and -asked them very respectfully to wait a moment. He then approached Foray, -who was impatiently waiting until he could send the message. He saluted -him and handed him a written order, and then crossed to the other side -of the room. A glance put Foray in possession of the contents of this -order. He rose to his feet and approached Caroline still standing by the -door. - -"Miss Mitford," he said. - -"Yes." - -"I don't understand this, but here is an order that has just come from -the Secret Service Department directing me to hold up any despatch you -may try to send." - -"Hold back my telegram?" - -"Yes, Miss Mitford," and Foray looked very embarrassed as he stared -again at the order and then from the young girl to the orderly, "and -that isn't the worst of it." - -"What else is there!" asked the girl, her eyes big with apprehension. - -"Why, this man has orders to take back your message with him to the -Secret Service Office." - -"Take back my message!" cried Caroline. - -"There must be some mistake," answered Foray, "but that's what the order -says." - -"To whom does it say to take it back?" asked the girl, growing more and -more indignant. - -"To a Mr. Arrelsford." - -"Do you mean to tell me that that order is for that man to take my -despatch back to Mr. Arrelsford?" - -"Yes, Miss Mitford," returned Lieutenant Foray. - -"And does it say anything in there about what I am going to do in the -meantime?" asked the girl indignantly. - -"Nothing." - -"Well, that is too bad," returned Caroline ominously. - -"I am sorry this has occurred, Miss Mitford," said the Lieutenant -earnestly, "but the orders are signed by the head of the Secret Service -Department, and you will see that I have no choice----" - -"Don't worry about it, Lieutenant Foray," said Caroline calmly, "there -is no need of your feeling sorry, because it hasn't occurred, beside -that, it is not going to occur. When it does, you can go around being -sorry all you like. Have you the faintest idea that I am going to let -him take my telegram away with him and show it to the man? Do you -suppose----" - -She was too indignant to finish her sentence and old Martha valiantly -entered the fray. - -"No, suh," she cried, in her deepest and most indignant voice. "You all -ain't gwine to do it, you kin be right suah you ain't." - -"But what can I do?" persisted Foray, greatly distressed. - -"You can hand it back to me, that's what you can do." - -"Yes, suh, dat's de vehy best thing you kin do," said old Martha -stoutly, "an' de soonah you do it de quickah it'll be done--Ah kin tel -you dat right now, suh." - -"But this man has come here with orders for me to----" began Foray, -endeavouring to explain. - -He realised that there was some mistake somewhere. The girl's message -had nothing whatever to do with military matters, and he quite -understood that she would not want this communication read by every Tom, -Dick, or Harry in the Secret Service Department. Beside all this, as she -stood before him, her face flushed with emotion, she was a sufficiently -pretty, a sufficiently pleading figure to make him most anxious and most -willing to help her. In addition, the portly figure of old Martha, whose -cheeks doubtless would have been flushed with the same feeling had they -not been so black, were more than disconcerting. - -"This man," said Caroline, shaking her finger at helpless Private -Eddinger, who also found his position most unpleasant, "can go straight -back where he came from and report to Mr. Arrelsford that he could not -carry out his orders. That's what he can do." - -Martha, now thoroughly aroused to a sense of the role she was to play, -turned and confronted the abashed private. - -"Jes' let him try to tek it. Let him tek it if he wants it so pow'ful -bad! Jes let de othah one dere gib it to him--an' den see him try an' -git out thu dis yeah do' wid it! Ah wants to see him go by," she said. -"Ah'm jes waitin' fur de sight ob him gittin' pas' dis do'. Dat's what -Ah's waitin' fo'. Ah'd lak to know what dey s'pose it was Ah comed -around yeah fo' anyway--dese men wid dese ordahs afussin' an'----" - -"Miss Mitford," said Foray earnestly, "if I were to give this despatch -back to you it would get me in a heap of trouble." - -"What kind of trouble?" asked Caroline dubiously. - -"I might be put in prison, I might be shot." - -"Do you mean that they would----" - -"Sure to do one thing or another." - -"Just for giving it back to me when it is my message?" - -"Just for that." - -"Then you will have to keep it, I suppose," said Caroline faltering. - -"Thank you, Miss Mitford." - -"Very well," said Caroline, "it is understood. You don't give it back to -me, and you can't give it back to him, so nobody's disobeying any orders -at all. And that's the way it stands. I reckon I can stay as long as he -can." She stepped to a nearby chair and sat down. "I haven't very much -to do and probably he has." - -"But, Miss Mitford----" began Foray. - -"There isn't any good talking any longer. If you have got any -telegraphing to do, you had better do it. I won't disturb you. But don't -you give it to him." - -Foray stared at her helplessly. What might have resulted, it is -impossible to say, for there entered at that opportune moment, Mr. -Arrelsford himself, relieving Mr. Foray of the further conduct of the -intricate case. His glance took in all the occupants of the room. It was -to his own messenger that he first addressed himself. - -"Eddinger!" - -"Yes, Mr. Arrelsford." - -"Didn't you get here in time!" - -"Yes, sir." - -"Then why----" - -"I beg your pardon," said Foray, "are you Mr. Arrelsford of the Secret -Service Department?" - -"Yes. Are you holding back a despatch?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"Why didn't Eddinger bring it to me?" - -"Well, you see----" began Foray, hesitating, "Miss Mitford----" - -Arrelsford instantly comprehended. - -"Eddinger," he said. - -"Yes, sir." - -"Report back to Corporal Matson and tell him to send a surgeon to the -prisoner who was wounded at General Varney's house, if he isn't dead by -this time. Now let me see that despatch," he continued, as the orderly -saluted and ran rapidly from the room. - -But again Miss Mitford interposed. She stepped quickly between -Arrelsford and Foray, both of whom fell back from her. - -"I expect," she said impudently, "that you think you are going to get my -telegram and read it?" - -"I certainly intend to do so," was the curt answer. - -"Well, there's a great disappointment looming up in front of you," -returned Caroline defiantly. - -"So!" said Arrelsford, with growing suspicion. "You have been trying to -send out something that you don't want us to see." - -"What if I have, sir." - -"Just this," said Arrelsford determinedly. "You won't send it out and I -will see it. This is a case----" - -"This is a case where nobody is going to read my private writing," -persisted Caroline. - -The young girl confronted him with blazing eyes and a mien like a small -fury. Arrelsford looked at her with ill-concealed yet somewhat vexatious -amusement. - -"Lieutenant Foray, you have an order to give me that despatch. Bring it -to me at once," he said. - -Although it was quite evident that Foray greatly disliked the role he -was compelled to play, his orders were plain, he had no option. He -stepped slowly toward the Secret Service-Agent, only to be confronted by -old Martha, who again interrupted. - -"Dat Leftenant kin stay jes whah he is," said the old negress defiantly. - -A struggle with her would have been an unseemly spectacle indeed, -thought both men. - -"Is that Miss Mitford's despatch you have in your hand?" asked -Arrelsford. - -"Yes, sir." - -"Since you can't hand it to me, read it." - -Caroline turned to him with a gasp of horror. Martha gave way, and Foray -stood surprised. - -"Read it out! Don't you hear me?" repeated Arrelsford peremptorily. - -"Don't dare to do such a thing," cried Caroline, "you have no right to -read a private telegram." - -"No, suh! He ain't got no business to read her lettahs, none -whatsomebah!" urged Martha. - -"Silence!" roared Arrelsford, his patience at an end. "If either of you -interfere any further with the business of this office, I will have you -both put under arrest. Read that despatch instantly, Lieutenant Foray." - -The game was up so far as the women were concerned. Caroline's head sank -on Martha's shoulder and she sobbed passionately, while Lieutenant Foray -read the following astonishing and incriminating message. - -"'_Forgive me, Wilfred darling, please forgive me and I will help you -all I can._'" - -It was harmless, as harmless as it was foolish, that message, but it -evidently impressed Mr. Arrelsford as containing some deep, some hidden, -some sinister meaning. - -"That despatch can't go," he said shortly. - -"That despatch can go," said Caroline, stopping her sobbing as suddenly -as she had begun. "And that despatch will go. I know some one whose -orders even you are bound to respect, and some one who will come here -with me and see that you do it." - -"It may be," answered Arrelsford composedly. "I have a good and -sufficient reason----" - -"Then you will have to show him, I can tell you that, Mr. Arrelsford." - -"I shall be glad to give my reason to my superiors, Miss Mitford, not to -you." - -"Then you will have to go around giving them to everybody in Richmond, -Mr. Arrelsford," said the girl, as she swept petulantly through the -door, followed by old Martha, both of whom were very much disturbed by -what had occurred. - - - - - CHAPTER XII - - THORNE TAKES CHARGE OF THE TELEGRAPH OFFICE - - -Arrelsford stared after the departing figures with a mixture of -amusement, contempt, and annoyance in his glance. So soon as the door -had closed behind them he turned to Lieutenant Foray, who was regarding -him with ill-concealed aversion. - -"Let me have that despatch," he began in his usual peremptory manner. - -"You said you had an order, sir," returned Foray stubbornly. - -"Yes, yes," replied the Secret Service Agent impatiently, throwing an -order on the table, "there it is, don't waste time." - -But Lieutenant Foray was not satisfied, principally because he did not -wish to be. He scrutinised the order carefully, and with great distaste -at its contents. It was quite evident that if he could have found a -possible pretext for refusing obedience, he would gladly have done so. -His sympathies were entirely with Miss Mitford. - -"I suppose you are Mr. Benton Arrelsford, all right?" he began -deliberately, fingering the paper. - -"Certainly I am," returned Arrelsford haughtily. - -"We have to be very careful nowadays," continued Foray shortly. "But I -reckon it's all right. Here's the telegram." - -"Did the girl seem nervous or excited when she handed this in?" asked -the other, taking the message. - -"Do you mean Miss Mitford?" asked Foray reprovingly. - -"Certainly, who else?" - -"Yes, she did." - -"She was anxious not to have it seen by anybody?" - -"Anxious, I should say so. She didn't even want me to see it." - -"Umph!" said Arrelsford. "I don't mind telling you, Mr. Foray, that we -are on the track of a serious affair and I believe she's mixed up in -it." - -"But that despatch is to young Varney, a mere boy, the General's son," -urged the Lieutenant. - -"I didn't know he had gone to the front. So much the worse. It's one of -the ugliest affairs we have ever had. I had them put me on it, and I -have got it pretty close. We have had some checks but we will end it -right here in this office inside of thirty minutes." - -There was a slight tap on the door at this juncture. Arrelsford turned -to the door, opened it, and found himself face to face with a soldier, -who saluted and stood at attention. - -"Well, what is it?" - -"The lady's here, sir," said the soldier. - -"Where is she?" asked Arrelsford. - -"Waiting down below at the front entrance." - -"Did she come alone?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"Show her up here at once. I suppose you have a revolver here," -continued the Secret Service Man, turning to Lieutenant Foray, who had -listened with much interest. - -"Certainly," answered Foray, "we are always armed in the telegraph -office." - -From a drawer in the table he drew forth a revolver which he laid on the -top of the table. - -"Good," said Arrelsford, "while I want to handle this thing myself, I -may call you. Be ready, that's all." - -"Very well." - -"Obey any orders you may get, and send out all despatches unless I stop -you." - -"Yes, sir." - -"And if you don't mind, I don't care to have all these messenger boys -coming back here. I will order them to stop in the hall. If you have any -messages for them, you can take them out there. I don't want to have too -many people in the room." - -"Very good, sir. Will you give the order to your orderly when he brings -up the young lady?" - -"Yes." - -Arrelsford stepped to the door, and Foray busied himself with the -clicking instruments. After a few minutes' conversation with the -orderly, who had just returned, Arrelsford ushered Edith Varney into the -room. With not even a glance at the operator in her intense -preoccupation, the girl spoke directly to Arrelsford. - -"I--I've accepted your invitation, you see." - -"I am greatly obliged to you, Miss Varney," returned Arrelsford with -deferential courtesy. "As a matter of justice to me, it was----" - -"I didn't come to oblige you," answered Edith, haughtily. - -She had never liked Mr. Arrelsford. His addresses had been most -unpleasant and unwelcome to her, and now she not only hated him but she -loathed him. - -"I came here," she continued, as Arrelsford attempted to speak, "to see -that no more----" her voice broke for a moment, "murders are committed -here--to satisfy your singular curiosity." - -"Murders!" exclaimed Arrelsford, flushing deeply. - -The girl nodded. - -"The Union soldier who escaped from prison----" she began. - -"Is the man dead?" interrupted Arrelsford. - -"The man is dead." - -"It is a curious thing, Miss Varney," continued the other with cutting -emphasis, "that one Yankee prisoner more or less should make so much -difference to you, isn't it? They are dying down in Libby by the -hundreds." - -"At least they are not being killed in our houses, in our drawing-rooms, -before our very eyes!" - -She confronted Arrelsford with a bitterly reproachful glance, before -which his eyes for a moment fell, and he was glad indeed to turn to -another orderly who had just entered the room. - -"Have you kept track of him!" he asked in a low voice. - -"He's coming down the street to the Department now, sir." - -"Where has he been since he left Mrs. Varney's house?" - -"He went to his quarters on Gary Street. We got in the next room and -watched him through a transom." - -"What was he doing?" - -"Working on some papers or documents." - -"Could you see them? Did you see what they were?" - -"They looked like orders from the War Department, sir." - -"He is coming here with forged orders, I suppose." - -"I don't doubt it, sir." - -"I surmise that his game is to get control of these wires and then send -out despatches to the front that will take away a battery or a brigade -from some vital point, the vital point indicated by 'Plan 3.' That's -where they mean to attack to-night." - -"Looks like it, sir," agreed the orderly respectfully. - -"'Plan 3,' that's where they will hit us," mused the Secret Service -Agent. "Is there a guard in the building?" - -"Not inside, sir," answered the orderly, "there's a guard in front and -sentries around the barracks over in the square." - -"If I shouted, they could hear from this window, couldn't they?" asked -Arrelsford. - -"The guard in front could hear you, sir. But the time is getting short. -He must be nearly here, you'd better look out, sir." - -Edith Varney had heard enough of the conversation to understand that -Thorne was coming. Of course it would never do for him to see her there. - -"Where am I to go?" she asked. - -"Outside here on the balcony," said Arrelsford. "There is no closet in -the room and it is the only place. I will be with you in a moment." - -"But if he should come to the window?" - -"We will step in at the other window. Stay, orderly, see if the window -of the Commissary General's Office, the next room to the left, is open." - -They waited while the orderly went out on the balcony and made his -inspection. - -"The window of the next room is open, sir," he reported. - -"That's all I want of you. Report back to Corporal Matson. Tell him to -get the body of the prisoner out of the Varney house. He knows where -it's to go." - -"Very well, sir." - -"Mr. Foray," continued Arrelsford, "whoever comes here you are to keep -on with your work and don't give the slightest sign of my presence to -any one on any account. You understand?" - -"Yes, sir," said Foray from the telegraph table in the centre of the -room. - -He had caught something of the conversation, but he was too good a -soldier to ask any questions, beside his business was with the -telegraph, not with Mr. Arrelsford. - -"Now, Miss Varney," said the Secret Service Agent, "this way, please." - -He opened the middle window. The girl stepped through, and he was about -to follow when he caught sight of a messenger entering the room. Leaving -the window, he retraced his steps. - -"Where did you come from?" he said abruptly to the young man. - -"War Department, sir." - -"Carrying despatches'?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"You know me, don't you?" - -"I've seen you at the office, sir, and----" - -"I'm here on Department business," said Arrelsford. "All you have to do -is to keep quiet about it. Weren't you stopped in the hall?" - -"Yes, sir, but I had a despatch from the President that had to be -delivered to Lieutenant Foray." - -"Well, it is just as well," said Arrelsford. "Don't mention having seen -me to anybody under any pretext and stay here. You might be needed. On -second thoughts, Foray, let any messenger come in." - -With that Mr. Arrelsford stepped out onto the balcony through the window -which he closed after him, and he and Edith disappeared from view. - -"Messenger," said Foray, "step down the hall and tell the private there -that by Mr. Arrelsford's orders, messengers are allowed to come up as -they report." - -The room which had been the scene of these various colloquies became -silent save for the continuous clicking of the telegraph keys. Presently -two messengers came back and took their positions as before. - -Hard on their heels entered Captain Thorne. He was in uniform, of -course, and a paper was tucked in his belt. He walked rapidly down the -room, acknowledged the salutes of the messengers, and stopped before the -table. His quick scrutiny of the room as he advanced had shown him that -there was no one present except the messengers and Lieutenant Foray. -Foray glanced up, nodded, finished taking the despatch which was on the -wires at the time, wrote it out, put it in its envelope, and then rose -to his feet and saluted. - -"Captain Thorne," he said. - -"Lieutenant Foray," replied Thorne, taking the order from his belt and -handing it to the operator. - -"Order from the Department?" asked Foray. - -"I believe so," answered Thorne briefly. - -Lieutenant Foray opened it and read it. - -"They want me to take a cipher despatch over to the President's house," -he said as he finished. - -"Yes," said Thorne, moving to the vacant place at the table. He pulled -the chair back a little, tossed his hat on the other table, and -otherwise made himself at home. - -"I am ordered to stay here until you get back," he began casually, -shoving the paper aside and stretching his hand toward the key. - -"That's an odd thing, Captain," began Lieutenant Foray dubiously. "I -understood that the President was meeting with the Cabinet. In fact, -Lieutenant Allison went over there to take some code work a moment ago. -He must have gone home, I reckon." - -"Looks like it," said Thorne quietly. "If he is not at home you had -better wait." - -"Yes," said Foray, moving away, "I suppose I had better wait for him. -You will have to look out for Allison's wire though on the other table. -He was called over to the Department." - -"Oh, Allison!" said Thorne carelessly. "Be gone long, do you think?" he -continued as he seated himself at the table and began to arrange the -papers. - -"Well, you know how it is. They generally whip around quite a while -before they make up their minds what they want to do. I don't suppose -they will trouble you much. It's as quiet as a church down the river. -Good-night." - -"See here, Mr. Foray, wait a moment. You had better not walk out and -leave--no matter," continued Thorne, as the operator stopped and turned -back. "It's none of my business, still if you want some good advice, -that is a dangerous thing to do." - -"What is it, Captain?" asked Foray, somewhat surprised. - -"Leave a cigar lying around an office like that. Somebody might walk in -any minute and take it away. I can't watch your cigars all day." - -He picked up the cigar, and before Foray could prevent it, lighted it -and began to smoke. Foray laughed. - -"Help yourself, Captain, and if there is any trouble you will find a -revolver on the table." - -"I see," said Thorne, "but what makes you think there is going to be -trouble?" - -"Oh, well there might be." - -"Been having a bad dream?" asked the Captain nonchalantly. - -"No, but you never can tell. All sorts of things are liable to happen in -an office like this, and----." - -"That's right," said Thorne, puffing away at his cigar, "you never can -tell. But see here. If you never can tell when you are going to have -trouble you had better take that gun along with you. I have one of my -own." - -"Well," said the operator, "if you have one of your own, I might as -well." - -He took the revolver up and tucked it in his belt. "Look out for -yourself, Captain. Good-bye. I will be back as soon as the President -gives me that despatch. That despatch I have just finished is for the -Commissary General's Office, but it can wait until the morning." - -"All right," said Thorne, and the next moment the operator turned away -while the clicking of the key called Thorne to the table. It took him -but a few minutes to write the brief message which he addressed and -turned to the first messenger, "Quartermaster General." - -"He wasn't in his office a short time ago, sir," said the messenger. - -"Very well, find him. He has probably gone home and he has to have this -message." - -"Very good, sir." - -The key kept up its clicking. In a short time another message was -written off. - -"Ready here," cried Thorne, looking at the other messenger. "This is for -the Secretary of the Treasury, marked private. Take it to his home." - -"He was down at the Cabinet meeting a little while ago, sir," said the -second messenger. - -"No difference, take it to his house and wait until he comes." - -The instant the departing messenger left him alone in the room, Thorne -leaped to his feet and ran with cat-like swiftness to the door, opened -it, and quickly but carefully examined the corridor to make sure that no -one was there on duty. Then he closed the door and turned to the nearest -window, which he opened also, and looked out on the balcony, which he -saw was empty. He closed the window and came back to the table, -unbuckling his belt and coat as he came. These he threw on the table. -The coat fell back, and he glanced in the breast pocket to see that a -certain document was in sight and at hand, where he could get it -quickly. Then he took his revolver, which he had previously slipped from -his belt to his hip pocket, and laid it down beside the instrument. - -After a final glance around him to see that he was still alone and -unobserved, he seized the key on which he sounded a certain call. An -expert telegrapher would have recognised it, a dash, four dots in rapid -succession, then two dots together, and then two more (--.... .. ..). He -waited a few moments, and when no answer came he signalled the call a -second time, and after another longer wait he sent it a third time. - -After this effort he made a longer pause, and just as he had about -reached the end of his patience--he was in a fever of anxiety, for upon -what happened in the next moment the failure or the success of the whole -plan absolutely turned--the silent key clicked out an answer, repeating -the same signal which he himself had made. The next moment he made a -leap upon the key, but before he could send a single letter steps were -heard outside in the corridor. - -Thorne released the key, leaned back in his chair, seized a match from -the little holder on the table and struck it, and when another messenger -entered he seemed to be lazily lighting his cigar. He cursed in his -heart at the inopportune arrival. Another uninterrupted moment and he -would have sent the order, but as usual he gave no outward evidence of -his extreme annoyance. The messenger came rapidly down toward the table -and handed Captain Thorne a message. - -"From the Secretary of War, Captain Thorne," he said saluting, "and he -wants it to go out right away." - -"Here, here," said Thorne, as the messenger turned away, "what's all -this?" He ran his fingers through the envelope, tore it open, and spread -out the despatch. "Is that the Secretary's signature?" he asked. - -The messenger came back. - -"Yes, sir; I saw him sign it myself. I'm his personal messenger." - -"Oh!" said Thorne, spreading the despatch out on the table and O.K.'ing -it, "you saw him sign it yourself, did you?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"Very well. We have to be pretty careful to-night," he explained, "there -is something on. You are sure of this, are you?" - -"I could swear to that signature anywhere, sir," said the messenger. - -"Very well," said Thorne, "you may go." - - - - - CHAPTER XIII - - THE TABLES ARE TURNED - - -As soon as the door was closed behind the messenger Thorne laid his -cigar down on the table. Then he picked up the despatch from the -Secretary of War which the messenger had just brought in, and folded it -very dexterously. Then with a pair of scissors which he found in a -drawer he cut off the lower part of the Secretary's despatch containing -his signature. He put this between his teeth and tore the rest into -pieces. He started to throw the pieces into the waste basket but after a -moment's reflection he stuffed them into his trouser pocket. Then he -picked up his coat from the back of the chair and took from the inside -breast pocket another document written on the same paper as that which -had just come from the Secretary of War. Spreading this out on the table -he cut off the signature and quickly pasted to it the piece of the real -order bearing the real signature. He carefully wiped this pasted -despatch with his handkerchief, making an exceedingly neat job of it. - -As he did so, he smiled slightly. Fortune, which had dealt him so many -rebuffs had evened up matters a little by giving him this opportunity. -He had now in his possession a despatch bearing the genuine signature of -the Secretary of War. Even if he were interrupted the chances were he -would still be able to send it. So soon as he had doctored the despatch, -he sat down at the instrument and once more essayed to send the message. - -Now during all this rapid bit of manipulation Thorne had been under -close observation, for Arrelsford and Edith Varney had come from the -Commissary General's Office, where they had concealed themselves while -Thorne examined the porch, and had stepped back to the nearest window -and were intently watching. Fortunately, his back partially concealed -his actions and the watchers could not tell exactly what he had done, -although it was quite evident that he was in some way altering some kind -of a despatch. - -Just as Thorne began to send the message, Arrelsford accidentally struck -the window with his elbow, making a slight sound. The instant he did so, -he and the girl vanished from sight. Once again Thorne released the key, -and his hand moved quietly but rapidly from the instrument to the -revolver. The instant it was in his hand he sprang to his feet, whirled -about, leaped to the gas bracket and turned off the light. The room was -left in darkness, save for the faint illumination of the moonlight -through the windows. - -Immediately he turned off the light he ran to the doors leading into the -hall. They were provided with heavy old-fashioned bolts which he shot -swiftly, locking them on the inside. Then with the utmost caution he -edged around the wall until he came to the first window. He waited with -his left hand on the catch of the window, and with his right advanced -his revolver. After a moment's pause he threw it open quickly and -stepped out on the balcony. It was empty as before. - -He must have made a mistake, he thought, since no one was there, and he -blamed the whole incident to his over-agitated nerves. Indeed what he -had gone through in the preceding two hours would have shaken any man's -nerves, might have broken most men's. He was annoyed at having wasted -precious time, and turned to the table again, stopping on his way to -relight the light. - -Once more he seized the key. He could telegraph equally well with either -hand. He did not lay down his revolver on the table this time, but kept -it in his right hand while the fingers of his left hand touched the -button. He had scarcely made a dot or a dash when there was a sudden -flash of light and the sound of an explosion, that of a heavy revolver, -mingled with the crash of shattered glass. Captain Thorne's fingers fell -from the key and a jet of blood spurted out upon the table and the -papers. - -He rose to his feet with incredible swiftness, his revolver in his right -hand, only to be confronted by Arrelsford at the front window. The -latter held in his hand, pointed fairly and squarely at Thorne, the -heavy service revolver with which he had just shot him in the left -wrist. Thorne made a swift motion with his right hand but Arrelsford was -too quick for him. - -"Drop that gun!" he shouted. "Drop it quick, or you are a dead man!" - -There was no possibility of disobedience. Thorne straightened up and -laid his revolver on the table. The two confronted each other, and if -looks could have killed they had both been dead men. The soldier -shrugged his shoulders at last, took his handkerchief out of his pocket, -put one end of it between his teeth, and with the other hand wrapped it -tightly around his wounded wrist. - -The civilian meantime advanced toward him, keeping him covered all the -time with his revolver. - -"Do you know why I didn't kill you like the dog you are, just now?" he -asked truculently, as he drew nearer. - -"Because you are such a damned bad shot, I suppose," coolly answered -Thorne between his teeth, still tying the bandage, after which he calmly -picked up his cigar and began smoking again with the utmost -indifference. - -Whatever fate had in store for him could better be met, he thought -swiftly at this juncture, provided he kept his temper, and so he spoke -as nonchalantly as before. Indeed his manner had always been most -irritating and exacerbating to Arrelsford. - -"Maybe you will change your mind about that later on," the latter -rejoined. - -"Well, I hope so," said Thorne, completing his bandage and tying the -knot so as to leave the fingers of his left hand free. "You see, it -isn't pleasant to be riddled up this way." - -"Next time you'll be riddled somewhere else beside the wrist. There's -only one reason why you are not lying there now with a bullet through -your head." - -"Only one?" queried Thorne. - -"Only one." - -"Do I hear it?" - -"You do. I gave my word of honour to some one outside that I wouldn't -kill you, and----" - -"Oh, then this isn't a little tete-a-tete just between ourselves. You -have some one with you?" asked Thorne, interested greatly in this new -development, wondering who the some one was who had interfered in his -behalf. Perhaps that evident friendship might be turned to account later -on. For a moment not an idea of who was there entered Thorne's mind. - -"Yes, I have some one with me, Captain Thorne, who takes quite an -interest in what you are doing to-night," returned Arrelsford -sneeringly. - -"That is very kind, I am sure. Is the--er--gentleman going to stay out -there all alone on the balcony or shall I have the pleasure of inviting -him in here and having a charming little three-handed----" - -The third party answered the question, for Edith Varney came through the -window with the shattered pane through which Arrelsford had fired and -entered. Thorne was shocked beyond measure by her arrival, not the -slightest suspicion that she could have been there had crossed his mind. -So she had been an eye witness to his treachery. He had faced -Arrelsford's pistol with the utmost composure, there was something in -Edith Varney's look that cut him to the heart, yet she did not look at -him either. On the contrary, she carefully avoided his glance. Instead -she turned to Arrelsford. - -"I think I will go, Mr. Arrelsford," she said in a low, choked voice. - -"Not yet, Miss Varney," he said peremptorily. - -The girl gave him no heed. She turned and walked blindly toward the -door. - -"I don't wish, to stay here any longer," she faltered. - -"One moment, please," said Arrelsford, as she stopped, "we need you." - -"For what?" - -"As a witness." - -"You can send for me if you need me, I will be at home." - -"I am sorry," said Arrelsford, again interposing, "I will have to detain -you until I turn him over to the guard. It won't take long." - -The middle window was open and he stepped to it, still keeping an eye on -Thorne, and shouted at the top of his voice: - -"Call the guard! Corporal of the Guard! Send up the guard to the -telegraph office!" - -The note of triumph in his voice was unmistakable. From the street the -three inside heard a faint cry: - -"What's the matter? Who calls the guard?" - -"Up here in the telegraph office," said Arrelsford, "send them up -quick." - -The answer was evident sufficient, for they could hear the orders and -the tumult in the square below. - -"Corporal of the Guard, Post Four! Fall in the guard! Fall in! Lively, -men!" and so on. - -The game appeared to be up this time. Mr. Arrelsford held all the -winning cards, thought Thorne, and he was playing them skilfully. He -ground his teeth at the thought that another moment and the order would -have been sent probably beyond recall. Fate had played him a scurvy -trick, it had thwarted him at the last move, and Arrelsford had so -contrived that his treachery had been before the woman he loved. Under -other circumstances the wound in his wrist would have given him -exquisite pain, as it was he scarcely realised at the time that he had -been hurt. - -Arrelsford still stood by the window, glancing out on the square but -keeping Thorne under close observation. The evil look in his eyes and -the malicious sneer on his lips well seconded the expression of triumph -in his face. He had the man he hated where he wanted him. It was a -splendid piece of work that he had performed, and in the performance he -sated his private vengeance and carried out his public duty. - -On his part, Thorne was absolutely helpless. There was that in the -bearing of the woman he loved that prevented him from approaching her. -He shot a mute look of appeal to her which she received with marble -face, apparently absolutely indifferent to his presence, yet she was -suffering scarcely less than he. In her anguish she turned desperately -to Arrelsford. - -"I am not going to stay," she said decisively, "I don't wish to be a -witness." - -"Whatever your feelings may be, Miss Varney," persisted Arrelsford, "I -can't permit you to refuse." - -"If you won't take me downstairs, I will find the way myself," returned -the girl as if she had not heard. - -She turned resolutely toward the door. Before she reached it the heavy -tramping of the guard was heard. - -"Too late," said Arrelsford triumphantly, "you can't go now, the guard -is here." - -Edith could hear the approaching soldiers as well as anybody. The way -was barred, she realised instantly. Well, if she could not escape, at -least she could get out of sight. She turned and opened the nearest -window and stepped out. Arrelsford knew that she could not go far, and -that he could produce her whenever he wanted her. He made no objection -to her departure that way, therefore. Instead he looked at Thorne. - -"I have you just where I want you at last," he said mockingly, as the -trampling feet came nearer. "You thought you were mighty smart, but you -will find that I can match your trick every time." - -Outside in the hall the men came to a sudden halt before the door. One -of them knocked loudly upon it. - -"What's the matter here?" cried the Sergeant of the Guard without. - -The handle was tried and the door was shoved violently, but the brass -bolt held. - -"Let us in!" he cried angrily. - -Quick as a flash of lightning an idea came to Thorne. - -"Sergeant!" he shouted in a powerful voice. "Sergeant of the Guard!" - -"Sir!" - -"Break down the door! Break it down with your musket butts!" - -As the butts of the muskets pounded against the heavy mahogany panels, -Arrelsford cried out in great surprise: - -"What did you say?" - -In his astonishment, he did not notice a swift movement Thorne made -toward the door. - -"You want them in, don't you?" the soldier said, as he approached the -door. "It is locked and----" - -But Arrelsford recovered himself a little and again presented his -revolver. - -"Stand where you are," he cried, but Thorne by this time had reached the -door. - -"Smash it down, Sergeant!" he cried. "What are you waiting for! Batter -it down!" - -The next moment the door gave way with a crash, and into the room poured -the guard. The grizzled old Sergeant had scarcely stepped inside the -room when Thorne shouted in tones of the fiercest authority, pointing at -Arrelsford: - -"Arrest that man!" - -Before the dazed Secret Service Agent could say a word or press the -trigger the soldiers were upon him. - -"He got in here with a revolver," continued Thorne more quietly, "and is -playing hell with it. Hold him fast!" - - - - - CHAPTER XIV - - THE CALL OF THE KEY - - -This astonishing denouement fairly paralysed Arrelsford. With a daring -and ability for which he had not given Thorne credit, and which was -totally unexpected, although what he had learned of his previous career -might have given him some warning, the tables had been turned upon him -by a man whom he confidently fancied he had entrapped beyond possibility -of escape! - -His amazement held him speechless for a moment, but his natural -resourcefulness came back to him with his returning presence of mind. He -knew the futility of an attempt to struggle with his captors, he -therefore decided to try to reason with them. - -"Sergeant," he began, quietly enough, "my orders are----" - -But Thorne would not let him continue. Having gained the advantage he -was determined to keep it to the end and for that purpose he followed up -his first blow, ruthlessly pressing his charge hard. - -"Damn your orders!" he interrupted furiously. "You haven't got orders to -shoot up everybody you see in this office, have you?" - -This was too much for Arrelsford, and he made a desperate plunge forward -to get at Thorne, who shook his wounded wrist in the Secret Service -Agent's face. The soldiers held him tightly, however, and Thorne -continued hotly: - -"Get his gun away, Sergeant; he'll hurt somebody." - -While the soldiers--who appeared to entertain no doubt and to have no -hesitancy whatever about obeying Thorne's orders, the latter evidently -the military man of the two and his voice and bearing, to say nothing of -his uniform, telling heavily against a civilian like Arrelsford--were -taking the revolver out of his hands, Thorne once more turned to the -telegraph table. His blood was up and he would send the despatch now -before the whole assemblage, before the Confederate Government or its -Army, if necessary. - -Arrelsford burst out in a last vain attempt to stop him: - -"Listen to me, Sergeant," he pleaded desperately, "he is going to send -out a false telegram and----" - -"That'll do," gruffly said the Sergeant of the Guard, shaking his fist -in Arrelsford's face, "what is it all about, Captain!" - -"All about? I haven't the slightest idea. He says he comes from some -office or other. I was sending off some important official despatches -here and he began by letting off his gun at me. Crazy lunatic, I think." - -"It's a lie!" said Arrelsford furiously. "Let me speak--I -will--prove----" - -"Here!" said the Sergeant of the Guard, "that'll do now. What shall I do -with him, Captain?" - -"I don't care a damn what you do with him. Get him out of here, that's -all I want." - -"Very well, sir. Are you much hurt?" - -"Oh, no. He did up one hand, but I can get along with the other all -right," said Thorne, sitting down at the table and seizing the key. - -"Stop him!" cried Arrelsford, fully divining that Thorne intended to -send the message. "He's sending a--wait!" A thought came to him. "Ask -Miss Varney, she saw him,--ask Miss Varney." - -But the old Sergeant of the Guard paid no attention whatever to his -frantic appeals. - -"Here, fall in there!" he said. "We'll get him out, Captain. Have you -got him, men? Forward then!" - -Struggling furiously the squad of soldiers forced Arrelsford to the -door. Thorne paid absolutely no attention to them; he had forgotten -their presence. Like his attention, his mind and heart were on the key -again. But he was fated to meet with still another interruption. - -"Halt there!" cried a sharp voice from the hall, just as the group -reached the door. - -"Halt! Left Face!" cried the Sergeant in turn, recognising that here was -a superior whom it were well to obey without question or hesitation. - -"Here is General Randolph," said the voice outside, giving the name of -one of the high officers of the Richmond Garrison. - -"Present arms!" cried the Sergeant of the Guard as General Randolph -appeared in the doorway. - -Following him were some officers of his staff and by his side was the -imposing figure of Miss Caroline Mitford. The humiliation and -indignation had vanished from her bearing which was one of unmitigated -triumph. She threw a glance at Arrelsford which bode ill for that young -man. The General entered the room and stopped before the Secret Service -Agent, who stood in front of the guard, although he had been released by -the men. - -"What's all this about?" he asked peremptorily. - -Although he knew that something important was transpiring, and that the -newcomer was a man of rank, Thorne never turned his head. At whatever -cost, he realised he must get the telegram off, and from the look of -things it appeared that his only chance was then and there. He did not -care if the President of the Confederate States of America were there in -person, his mind and soul were on the order. He was frantically calling -the station he wanted, the one indicated by "Plan 3," and he had the -doctored despatch, to which he had pasted the Secretary's signature -spread out on the table before him. - -"What's all this about refusing to send out Miss Mitford's telegram!" -began General Randolph peremptorily. "Some of your work, I understand, -Mr. Arrelsford." - -"General!" cried Arrelsford breathlessly. "They have arrested me. It is -a conspiracy----" He turned toward Thorne. "Stop that man, for God's -sake stop him before it's too late!" - -At this juncture, Caroline Mitford turned from the room and joined old -Martha in the hall, and disappeared. She had only come back with the -General to punish Arrelsford, but she did not care to have her precious -despatch made the subject of discussion before so many people. - -"Stop him!" exclaimed the General. "What do you mean?" - -It was evident that the despatch was not to go out then. Thorne had not -succeeded in getting an answer to his signal. He left the key, rose, and -saluted. - -"He means me, sir," he said. "He's got an idea some despatch I'm sending -out is a trick of the Yankees." - -"It is a conspiracy!" cried Arrelsford. "He is an impostor----" - -"Why, the man must have gone crazy, General," said Thorne coolly, -holding his position by the table and listening with all his ears for -the return signal. - -"I came here on a case for----" expostulated Arrelsford. - -"Wait!" said General Randolph. "I will soon get at the bottom of this. -What was he doing when you came in, Sergeant?" he asked of the -non-commissioned officer in charge of the guard. - -"He was firing on the Captain, sir," answered the Sergeant saluting. - -"He was sending out a false order to weaken our lines at Cemetery Hill, -and I--ah--Miss Varney, she was here. She saw it all," explained -Arrelsford. - -"Miss Varney!" exclaimed the General. - -"Yes, sir." - -"The General's daughter?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"And what was she doing here?" - -"She came to see for herself whether this man was guilty or not; whether -he was a spy or a traitor." - -"Is this some personal matter of yours, Mr. Arrelsford?" asked the -General suspiciously. - -"He was a visitor at her house and I wanted her to know." - -"Where is she now? Where is Miss Varney?" asked Randolph impatiently. - -"She must be out there on the balcony," answered Arrelsford. "I beg you -to send for her, sir." - -"Sergeant," said General Randolph, "step out on the balcony. Present my -compliments to Miss Varney, and ask her to come in at once." - -In a moment the Sergeant returned. - -"There is no one there, sir," he replied saluting. - -At that instant Thorne got the long desired signal. Without a moment's -hesitation, he turned to the key. He picked up the despatch with his -wounded left hand and with the other began to manipulate the sounder. - -"She must be there," said Arrelsford, "or else she's stepped into the -next room, the Commissary General's Office, the window was open, tell -him to--ah!" as the sound of the clicking caught his ear, "Stop him! He -is sending it now!" - -Mr. Arrelsford's distress was so overwhelming and so genuine that -something of the man's suspicion was communicated to the General. - -"One moment, Captain," he said. - -Captain Thorne, of course, had no option but to release the key. He -stopped sending and dropped the despatch, saluting. - -"Now, Mr. Arrelsford," said the General, "what have you to do with the -Military Telegraph Department?" - -"This is a Secret Service case; they assigned it to me, sir." - -"What is a Secret Service case?" - -"The whole plot to send the order. It's the Yankee Secret Service. He is -a member of it and his brother brought in the signal to-night." - -"I beg your pardon, sir," said Thorne, "this despatch ought to go out at -once, sir. It came from the Secretary of War and it is very urgent." - -"Go ahead with it," said General Randolph. - -Thorne needed no further permission than that, dropped to his seat, and -once more seized the fatal key. - -"No, no!" cried Arrelsford. "Don't let him--I tell you it's a----" - -"Silence, sir," thundered Randolph. - -"Do you know what he is telling them?" persisted Arrelsford. - -"No, do you?" - -"Yes," returned the Secret Service Agent. - -"Wait a moment, Captain Thorne," said the General, impressed in spite of -himself by this man's earnestness, which made him disregard all orders, -commands, and everything else. "Where is the despatch?" - -Captain Thorne picked up the paper and handed it to the General, and -then stepped back. He had played his last card. He played it -desperately, boldly, and well. - -"Well?" asked the General, looking from the despatch to the accuser, -"what has he been telling them?" - -"He began to give an order to withdraw Marston's Division from its -present position," said Arrelsford, making a brilliant and successful -guess at the probable point of attack in "Plan 3." - -"That is perfectly correct," said General Randolph, looking at the -paper. - -"Yes, by that despatch, but that despatch is a forgery. It is an order -to withdraw a whole division from a vital point. A false order, he wrote -it himself. This is the turning point of the whole plot." - -"But why should he write it himself? If he wanted to send a false order, -he could send it without putting it down on paper, couldn't he?" - -"Yes," admitted Arrelsford, but he went on with great acuteness, "if any -of the operators came back they would catch him doing it. With that -order and the Secretary's signature he could go right on. He could even -order one of them to send it." - -"And pray how did he get the Secretary's signature to a forged -telegram?" asked General Randolph. - -"He tore it off a genuine despatch. Why, General, look at that despatch -in your hand yourself. The Secretary's signature is pasted on, I saw him -do it." - -"They often come that way, sir," said Thorne nonchalantly. - -"He is a liar!" cried Arrelsford. "They never do!" - -Thorne stepped forward impulsively, his face flushed at the word "liar," -but he controlled himself. - -"General," he said, "if you have any doubt about that despatch, send it -back to the War Office and have it verified." - -It was a splendid, magnificent bluff. So overwhelming in its assurance -that even Arrelsford himself was petrified with astonishment. He was -morally certain that Thorne was a Federal Secret Service Agent and that -the despatch was a forgery, yet it would take but a few minutes to send -it over to the Secretary's office and convict him out of his own mouth. -What could the man mean! - -"That's a good idea," said General Randolph. He hesitated a moment and -then turned to the guard. "Sergeant," he said, "take this despatch over -to the Secretary's office and----" - -At that moment, the key which had been silent began a lively clicking. -General Randolph turned toward it, and Thorne made a quick step in the -same direction. - -"What's that?" asked the General. - -Thorne stood by the desk listening while the key clicked out the -message. - -"Adjutant General Chesney," he spelt out slowly. - -"Oh, from the front, then?" said Randolph. - -"Yes, sir," answered Thorne. - -"What is he saying!" - -Thorne stepped to the table and bent over the clicking key. "His -compliments, sir," he read off slowly. "He asks"--waiting for a few -minutes--"for the rest,"--still another pause--"of that despatch--he -says it's of vital importance, sir, and----" - -The communication which Thorne had made to General Randolph was in -itself of vital importance. The General was too good a soldier not to -know the danger of delay in the carrying out of a military manoeuvre -which was probably part of some general plan of attack or defence to -which he was not privy. He made up his mind instantly. He took the -despatch from the hand of the Sergeant and turned it over to Thorne -again. - -"Let him have it," he said decisively. - -The Captain with his heart pounding like mad sat down at the table and -seized the key. Was he going to complete the despatch? Was the plan to -be carried out? Had he triumphed in the bold and desperately played game -by his splendid courage, resourcefulness, and assurance? His eyes shone, -the colour came back into his pale cheeks as his hands trembled on the -key. - -"General!" cried Arrelsford, "if you----" - -"That's enough, sir. We will have you examined at headquarters." - -At that instant Lieutenant Foray came rapidly into the room. - -"Thank God!" cried Arrelsford, as he caught sight of him. "There's a -witness, he was sent away on a forged order, ask him?" - -Another interruption, thought Thorne, desperately fingering the keys. If -they would only give him a minute more he could complete the order, but -he was not to have that minute apparently. - -"Wait, Captain," said General Randolph quickly, and again the key was -silent. "Now, sir," he said to Lieutenant Foray, "where did you come -from!" - -The Lieutenant did not all comprehend what was toward, but his answer to -that question was plain. - -"There was some mistake, sir," he answered, saluting. - -"Ah!" cried Arrelsford, a note of triumph in his voice. - -"Who made it?" asked the General. - -"I got an order to go to the President's house," returned Foray, "and -when I got there the President----" - -Thorne made one last attempt to complete his message. - -"Beg pardon, General, this delay will be most disastrous. Permit me to -go on with this message. If there's any mistake, we can rectify it -afterward." - -He seized the key and continued sending the message as he spoke. - -"No!" cried Arrelsford. - -General Randolph either did not hear Thorne's speech or heed it, or else -he did not care to prevent him, and he continued his questioning. - -"Where did you get this mistaken order?" he asked. - -But Arrelsford, intensely alive to what was going on, interposed. - -"He's at it again, sir!" - -"Halt, there!" said General Randolph. "I ordered you to wait." - -The despatch was almost completed. Thorne ground his teeth with rage in -his impatience. He had tried audacity before, he would try it again. - -"I was sent here to attend to the business of this office and that -business is going out," he said resolutely. - -"No," said General Randolph with equal firmness, "it is not going out -until I am ready for it." - -"My orders come from the War Department, not from you, sir. This -despatch came in half an hour ago," answered Thorne angrily, his voice -rising, "they are calling for it at the other end of the line. It's my -business to send it out and I am going to do it." - -"Stop!" said General Randolph, as Thorne began to send the message -again. "Sergeant, seize that man and keep him from that machine." - -Well, the last hope was gone. As the Sergeant stepped forward to execute -his orders, Thorne, desperately determined to the last, clicked out a -letter, but he was cut short in the middle of a word. The Sergeant and -two men dragged him away, chair and all, from the table, and two others -posted themselves in front of the key. - -"I will have you court-martialled for this, sir," said General Randolph -angrily. - -"You will have to answer yourself," cried Thorne, playing the game to -the last, "for the delay of a despatch of vital importance, sent by the -Secretary of War." - -"Do you mean that?" cried Randolph. - -"I mean just that," answered Thorne, "and I demand that you let me -proceed with the business of this office. Before these officers and men -I repeat that demand." - -"By what authority do you send that despatch?" - -"I refer you to the Department, sir." - -"Show me your orders for taking charge of this office." - -"I refer you to the Department, sir," answered Thorne stubbornly. - -"By God, sir!" continued General Randolph hotly. "I will refer to the -Department. Leave your men on guard there, Sergeant. Go over to the War -Office. My compliments to the Secretary of War, and ask him if he will -be so good as to----" - -But Arrelsford's evil genius prompted him to interpose again. When -affairs were going to his liking he should have let them alone, but fate -seemed to be playing into his hand, and he determined to make the most -of it and the chance. - -"Another witness! Miss Varney," he cried triumphantly, as he bowed -toward the window in which Edith had at that moment appeared. "She was -here with me, she saw it all. Ask her." - -General Randolph turned toward the window and in his turn bowed to the -girl. - -"Miss Varney," he asked courteously, "do you know anything about this?" - -"About what, sir?" answered Edith in a low voice. - -"Mr. Arrelsford claims that Captain Thorne is acting without authority -in this office and that you can testify to that effect," was the -General's answer. - - - - - CHAPTER XV - - LOVE AND DUTY AT THE TOUCH - - -Thorne's case was now absolutely hopeless. By the testimony of two -witnesses a thing is established. All that Arrelsford had seen Edith had -seen. All that he knew, she knew. She had only to speak and the plan had -failed; the cleverly constructed scheme would fall to pieces. His -brother's life would have been wasted, nay more, his own life also; for -well did he realise that the bold way he had played the game would the -more certainly hasten his immediate execution. A spy in the Confederate -capital! - -He could reproach himself with nothing. He had done his very best. An -ordinary man would have failed a dozen times in the struggle. Courage, -adroitness, resourcefulness, and good fortune had carried him so far, -but the odds were now heavily against him and nothing that he could do -would avail him anything. The game was played and he had lost; -Arrelsford had triumphed. - -Thorne, in the one word that Edith Varney was to speak, would lose life, -honour, and that for which he had risked both. And he would lose more -than that. He would lose the love of the woman who had never seemed so -beautiful to him as she stood there, pale-faced, erect, the very -incarnation of self-sacrifice, as were all the women of the Confederacy. -And he would lose more than her love. He would lose her respect. His -humiliation would be her humiliation. Never so long as she lived could -her mind dwell on him with tenderness. The sound of his name would be a -hissing and a reproach in her ear, his reputation a by-word and a shame. -Her connection with him and that he had loved her would humiliate her -only less than the fact that she had loved him. - -His condition was indeed pitiable; yet, to do him justice, his thoughts -were not so much for himself as they were for two other things. First -and foremost bulked largest before him the plan for which he had made -all this sacrifice, which had promised to end the weary months of siege -which Richmond and Petersburg had sustained. His brother had lost his -life, he more than suspected, in the endeavour to carry it out, and now -he had failed. That was a natural humiliation and reproach to his pride, -although as his mind went back over the scene he could detect no false -move on his part. Of course his allowing his love for Edith Varney to -get the mastery of him had been wrong under the circumstances, but that -had not affected the failure or success of his endeavours. - -And his thoughts also were for the woman. He knew that she loved him, -she had admitted it, but once his eyes had been opened, he could have -told it without any admission at all. All that he had suffered, she had -suffered, and more. If she would be compelled to apologise for him, she -would also be compelled to assume the defensive for him. She loved him -and she was placed in the fearful position of having to deal the blow. -The words which would presently fall from her lips would complete his -undoing. They would blast his reputation forever and send him to his -death. He knew they would not be easy words for her to speak. He knew -that whatever his merit or demerit, she would never forget that it was -she who had completed his ruin; the fact that she would also ruin the -plan against her country would not weigh very heavily in her breaking -heart against that present personal consideration--after a while maybe -but not at first. And therefore he pitied her. - -He drew himself erect to meet his fate like a man, and waited. The wait -was a long one. Edith Varney was having her own troubles. She knew as -well as any one the importance of her testimony. She had come from the -Commissary General's vacant office and had been back at the window long -enough to have heard the conversation between General Randolph and the -two men. She was an unusually keen-witted girl and she realised the -situation to the full. - -Her confidence in her lover had been shaken, undermined, restored, and -shaken again, until her mind was in a perfect whirl. She did not know, -she could not tell whether he was what he seemed to be or not. It seemed -like treachery to him, this uncertainty. It would be a simple matter to -corroborate Mr. Arrelsford at once, and it occurred to her that she had -no option. But coincident with the question flashed into her mind -something she had forgotten which made it possible for her to answer in -another way. Thus, she understood that the life of her lover hung upon -her decision. - -What answer should she make? What course should she take? She realised, -too, that it was quite possible if she saved his life, it might result -in the carrying out of the plan about which there had been so much -discussion and which threatened so much against her country. If he were -false and she saved him he would certainly take advantage of the -respite. If he were true and she saved him no harm could come to her -country. She was intensely patriotic. And that phase of the problem -worried her greatly. - -Her eyes flashed quickly from the vindictive yet triumphant fact of -Arrelsford, whom she loathed, to the pale, composed, set face of Thorne, -whom she loved, and her glance fell upon his wounded left wrist, tied -up, the blood oozing through the handkerchief. A wave of sympathy and -tenderness filled her breast. He was hurt, suffering--that decided her. - -With one brief, voiceless prayer to God for guidance, she turned to -General Randolph, and it was well that she spoke when she did, for the -pause had become insupportable to Thorne at least. He had made up his -mind to relieve the dilemma and confess his guilt so that the girl would -not have to reproach herself with a betrayal of her lover or her cause, -that she might not feel that she had been found wanting at the crucial -moment. Indeed, Thorne would have done this before but his duty as a -soldier enjoined upon him the propriety, the imperative necessity, of -playing the game to the very end. The battle was not yet over. It would -never be over until he faced the firing party. - -And then Edith's voice broke the silence that had become so tense with -emotion. - -"Mr. Arrelsford is mistaken, General Randolph," she said quietly, -"Captain Thorne has the highest authority in this office." - -Arrelsford started violently and opened his mouth to speak, but General -Randolph silenced him with a look. The blood of the old general was up, -and it had become impossible for any one to presume in the least degree. -Thorne started, too. The blood rushed to his heart. He thought he would -choke to death. What did the girl mean? - -"The highest authority, sir," continued Edith Varney, slowly drawing out -the commission, which every one but she had forgotten in the excitement, -"the authority of the President of the Confederate States of America." - -Well, she had done it for weal or for woe. She had made her decision. -Had it been a wise decision? Had she acted for the best? What interest -had governed her, love for Thorne, love for her country, or love for her -own peace of mind? It was in the hands of General Randolph now. The girl -turned slowly away, unable to sustain the burning glances of her lover -and the vindictive stare of Arrelsford. - -"What's this?" said General Randolph. "Umph! A Major's Commission. In -command of the Telegraph Department. Major Thorne, I congratulate you." - -"That commission, General Randolph!" exclaimed Arrelsford, his voice -rising, "let me explain how she----" - -"That will do from you, sir," said the General, "you have made enough -trouble as it is. I suppose you claim that this is a forgery, too----" - -"Let me tell you, sir," persisted the Secret Service Agent. - -"You have told me enough as it is. Sergeant, take him over to -headquarters." - -"Fall in there!" cried the Sergeant of the Guard. "Two of you take the -prisoner. Forward, march!" - -Two men seized Arrelsford, and the rest of them closed about him. To do -the man justice, he made a violent struggle and was only marched out at -the point of the bayonet, protesting and crying: - -"For God's sake, he's in the Yankee Secret Service! He'll send that -despatch out. His brother brought in the signal to-night!" - -All the way down the corridor he could be heard yelling and struggling. -General Randolph paid not the slightest attention to him. He stepped -over to the telegraph table beside which Thorne stood--and with all the -force of which he was capable the young man could hardly control the -trembling of his knees. - -"Major Thorne," he said reprovingly as Thorne saluted him, "all this -delay has been your own fault. If you had only had sense enough to -mention this before we would have been saved a damned lot of trouble. -There's your commission, sir." He handed it to Thorne, who saluted him -again as one in a dream. "Come, gentlemen," he said to his officers, "I -can't understand why they have to be so cursed shy about their Secret -Service orders! Lieutenant Foray?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"Take your orders from Major Thorne." - -"Yes, sir," returned Foray. - -"Good-night," said the General, forgetful of the fact apparently that -Edith Varney was still standing by the window. - -"Good-night, sir," answered Thorne. - -Foray moved over to the table at the right, while Thorne leaped to his -former position, and his hand sought the key. At last he could send his -message, there was nothing to prevent him or interrupt him now, he was -in command. Could he get it through? For a moment he forgot everything -but that, as he clicked out the call again, but he had scarcely pressed -the button when Edith Varney stepped to his side. - -"Captain Thorne," she said in a low voice, giving him the old title. - -He looked up at her, stopping a moment. - -"What I have done gives you time to escape from Richmond," she -continued. - -"Escape!" whispered Thorne, clicking the key again. "Impossible!" - -"Oh," said the girl, laying her hand on his arm, "you wouldn't do -it--now!" - -And again the man's fingers remained poised over the key as he stared at -her. - -"I gave it to you to--to save your life. I didn't think you'd use it for -anything else. Oh! You wouldn't!" - -Her voice in its low whisper was agonising. If her face had been white -before, what could be said of it now? In a flash Thorne saw all. She had -been confident of his guilt, and she had sought to save his life because -she loved him, and now because she loved her country she sought to save -that too. - -The call sounded from the table. Thorne turned to it, bent over it, and -listened. It was the call for the message. Then he turned to the woman. -She looked at him; just one look. The kind of a look that Christ might -have turned upon Peter after those denials when He saw him in the -courtyard early on that bitter morning of betrayal. "I saved you," the -girl's look seemed to say, "I redeemed you and now you betray me!" She -spoke no words, words were useless between them. Everything had been -said, everything had been done. She could only go. Never woman looked at -man nor man looked at woman as these two at each other. - -The woman turned, she could trust herself no further. She went blindly -toward the door. The man followed her slowly, crushing the commission in -his hand, and ever as he went he heard the sound of the call behind him. -He stopped halfway between the door and the table and watched her go, -and then he turned. - -Lieutenant Foray understanding nothing of what had transpired, but -hearing the call, had taken Thorne's place before the table. He had the -despatch about which there had been so much trouble, and upon which the -whole plan turned, in his hand before him. - -"They are calling for that despatch, sir," he said as Thorne stared at -him in agony. "What shall I do with it?" - -"Send it," said the other hoarsely. - -"Very good, sir," answered Foray, seating himself and taking hold of the -key, but the first click of the sounder awakened Thorne to action. - -"No, no!" he cried. "Stop!" He rushed forward and seized the despatch. -"I won't do it!" he thundered. With his wounded hand and his well one he -tore the despatch into fragments. "Revoke the order. Tell them it was a -mistake instantly. I refuse to act under this commission!" - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - BOOK IV - - WHAT HAPPENED AT ELEVEN O'CLOCK - - - - - CHAPTER XVI - - THE TUMULT IN HUMAN HEARTS - - -Of the many frightful nights in Richmond during the siege, that night -was one of the worst. The comparative calmness of the earlier hours of -repose of the quiet April evening gave way to pandemonium. The works at -Petersburg, desperately held by the Confederates, were miles away from -the city to the southward, but such was the tremendous nature of the -cannonading that the shocking sounds seemed to be close at hand. -Children cowered, women shuddered, and old men prayed as they thought of -the furious onslaughts in the battle raging. - -The Richmond streets were filled with people, mostly invalids, -non-combatants, women, and children. A tremendous attack was being -launched by the besiegers somewhere, it was evident. Urgent messengers -from General Lee called every reserve out of the garrison at Richmond, -and the quiet streets and country highways awoke instantly to life. Such -troops as could be spared moved to the front at the double-quick. Every -car of the dilapidated railroad was pressed into service. Those who -could not be transported by train went on horseback or afoot. The -youngest boy and the oldest man alike shouldered their muskets, and with -motley clothes, but with hearts aflame, marched to the sound of the -cannon. The women, the sick, the wounded and invalid men and the -children waited. - -Morning would tell the tale. Into the city from which they marched, men -and boys would come back; an army nearly as great as had gone forth, but -an army halting, maimed, helpless, wounded, suffering, shot to pieces. -They had seen it too often not to be able to forecast the scene -absolutely. They knew with what heroic determination their veterans, -under the great Lee, were fighting back the terrific attacks of their -brothers in blue, under the grimly determined Grant. They could hear his -great war-hammer ringing on their anvil; a hammer of men, an anvil of -men. Plan or no plan, success or no success of some Secret Service -operations, some vital point was being wrestled for in a death-grapple -between two armies; and all the offensive capacities of the one and all -the defensive resources of the other were meeting, as they had been -meeting during the long years. - -In a time like that, of public peril and public need, private and -personal affairs ought to be forgotten, but it was not so. Love and -hate, confidence and jealousy, faithfulness and disloyalty, -self-sacrifice and revenge, were still in human hearts. And these -feelings would put to shame even the passions engendered in the bloody -battles of the fearful warfare. - -Edith Varney, for instance, had gone out of the telegraph office assured -that the sacrifice she had made for her lover had resulted in the -betrayal of her country; that Thorne had had not even the common -gratitude to accede to her request, although she had saved his life, -and, for the time being, his honour. Every cannon-shot, every crashing -volley of musketry that came faintly or loudly across the hills seemed -pointed straight at her heart. For all she knew, the despatch had been -sent, the cunningly devised scheme had been carried out, and into some -undefended gap in the lines the Federal troops were pouring. The defence -would crumble and the Army would be cut in two; the city of Richmond -would be taken, and the Confederacy would be lost. - -And she had done it! Would she have done it if she had known? She had -certainly expected to establish such a claim upon Thorne by her -interposition that he could not disregard it. But if she had known -positively that he would have done what she thought he did, would she -have sent him to his death? She put the question to herself in agony. -And she realised with flushes of shame and waves of contrition that she -would not, could not have done this thing. She must have acted as she -had, whatever was to come of it. Whatever he was, whatever he did, she -loved that man. She need not tell him, she need tell no one, there could -be no fruition to that love. She must hide it, bury it in her bosom if -she could, but for weal or woe she loved him above everything else, and -for all eternity. - -Where was he now? Her interposition had been but for a few moments. The -truth was certain to be discovered. There would be no ultimate escape -possible for him. She heard shots on occasion nearer than Petersburg, in -the city streets. What could they mean? Short, short would be his shrift -if they caught him. Had they caught him? Certainly they must, if they -had not. She realised with a thrill that she had given him an -opportunity to escape and that he had refused it. The sending of that -despatch had been more to him than life. Traitor, spy, Secret Service -Agent--was there anything that could be said for him? At least he was -faithful to his own idea of duty. - -She had met Caroline Mitford waiting in the lower hall of the telegraph -office, and the two, convoyed by old Martha, had come home together. -Many curious glances had been thrown at them, but in these great -movements that were toward, no one molested them. The younger girl had -seen the agony in her friend's face. She had timidly sought to question -her, but she had received no answer or no satisfaction to her queries. -Refusing Caroline's proffered services when she reached home, Edith had -gone straight to her own room and locked the door. - -The affair had been irritating beyond expression to Mr. Arrelsford. It -had taken him some time to establish his innocence and to get his -release from General Randolph's custody. Meanwhile, everything that he -had hoped to prevent had happened. To do him justice, he really loved -Edith Varney, and the thought that her actions and her words had caused -his own undoing and the failure of his carefully laid plans, filled him -with bitterness, which he vented in increased animosity toward Thorne. - -These were bitter moments to Mrs. Varney. She had become somewhat used -to her husband being in the thick of things, but it was her boy now that -was in the ranks. The noise of the cannon and the passing troops threw -Howard into a fever of anxiety which was very bad for him. - -And those were dreadful moments to Thorne. What had he done? He had -risked everything, was ready to pay everything, would, indeed, be forced -to do so in the end, and yet he had not done that which he had intended. -Had he been false to his duty and to his country when he refused to send -that telegram, being given the opportunity? He could not tell. The -ethics of the question were beyond his present solution. The opportunity -had come to him through a piece of sublime self-sacrifice on the part of -the woman, who, knowing him thoroughly and understanding his plan and -purpose, had yet perjured herself to save his life. - -That life was hers, was it not? He had become her prisoner as much as if -she had placed him under lock and key and held him without the -possibility of communication with any one. Her honour was involved. No, -under the circumstances, he could not send the despatch. The -Confederates would certainly kill him if they caught him, and if they -did not, and by any providential chance he escaped, his honour would -compel him to report the circumstances, the cause of his failure, to his -own superiors. Would they court-martial him for not sending the -despatch? Would they enter into his feelings, would they understand? -Would the woman and her actions be considered by them as determining -factors? Would his course be looked upon as justifiable? He could not -flatter himself that any one of these things would be so considered by -any military court. There would be only two things which would influence -his superiors in their judgment of him. Did he get a chance, and having -it, did he use it? - -The popular idea of a Secret Service Agent, a spy, was that he would -stick at nothing. As such men were outside the pale of military -brotherhood, so were they supposed to have a code of their own. Well, -his code did not permit him to send the despatch when his power to send -it had been procured in such a way. It was not so much love for the -woman as it was honour--her honour, suddenly put into his keeping--that -turned him from the key. When both honour and love were thrown into the -scale, there was no possibility of any other action. He could not see -any call of duty paramount to them. - -He stood looking at Foray for a while, and then, without a further -command to that intensely surprised young man, or even a word of -explanation, he seized his hat and coat and left the room. Foray was a -keen-witted officer, he reviewed the situation briefly, and presently a -great light dawned upon him. A certain admiration for Thorne developed -in his breast, and as Allison opportunely came back at this juncture, he -turned over the telegraph office to his subordinate, and in his turn -went out on what he believed to be an exceedingly important errand. - -Thorne found the streets full of people. He had not marked the beginning -of the cannonading in the tumult of the office, but the lights, the -bells pealing alarms from every church-steeple, the trampling of horses -and men, and the roll of the gun-carriages apprised him of what was -toward. Trusting that Thorne had been able to carry out his part, Grant -was attacking the place indicated by "Plan 3" in heavy force. - -What was Thorne to do? Obviously attempt to escape from Richmond, -although it would be a matter of extreme difficulty on account of the -alarm which now aroused every section. He could not go, either, until he -had seen his brother. He surmised that he was dead, but he could not -know that; and he determined not to attempt to leave without making -assurance double sure. It was a duty he owed to his brother, to his -father in the Union Army, and to his superiors in the Federal Secret -Service. If that brother were alive, he must be at the Varney house. He -fancied that he would run as little chance of being observed in the -excitement going in that direction as in any other, and he started to -make his way there. - -The fact that Edith was there influenced him also. Was the call of love -and the living as great, or greater than the call of duty and the dying -or the dead? Who shall say? - -And the remote chance that he might be observed on the way was taken by -his ever-vigilant enemy; for Arrelsford, upon obtaining his freedom, had -sent the troops at the disposal of the Secret Service to hunt him down, -and one of them caught sight of him. The shout of the observer apprised -him of his discovery. He threw one glance behind him and then ran for -his life. He had no especial hope of escaping, but he might get to the -Varney house ahead of the soldiers, and he might see his brother, and he -might see the woman he loved for a moment before he was taken and -killed. - -If it had not been for the two he would have stopped and given himself -up. Somehow he did not care for life. His life was forfeit to the -Federals and the Confederates alike. When she thought to save it, Edith -Varney had doomed him. Also he felt that she had damned him. But he ran -on and on, doubling and turning on his tracks; white-faced, desperate, -his breath coming fainter, his heart beating faster, as he ran. - - - - - CHAPTER XVII - - WILFRED PLAYS THE MAN - - -A sharp contrast to the noise outside was presented by the quiet of the -Varney house inside. The sewing women, in view of the attack and the -movements of the boys and the old men, had separated sooner than they -had intended and had gone their several ways. Old Jonas, frightened to -death, remained locked up in the closet where he had been left by -Arrelsford's men. Martha was upstairs in Howard's room, making ready to -watch over him during the night. - -Caroline Mitford had not gone home. She had sent word that she intended -to pass the night at the Varney house. Somehow she thought they seemed -to need her. She was standing by one of the long front windows in the -drawing-room, now a scene of much disorder because of the recent -struggle. Tables were thrust aside out of their places, chairs were -turned over, and there was a big dark spot on the carpet where Henry -Dumont had poured out his life-blood unavailingly. - -Caroline stared out of the window at the flashes of light. She listened, -with heaving breast and throbbing heart, to the roar of the cannon and -the rattle of musketry. She had heard both many times lately, but now it -was different, for Wilfred was there. Mrs. Varney came upon her with her -hand pressed against her breast, her face white and staring, tears -brimming her eyes, but, as usual, Mrs. Varney was so engrossed with her -own tremendous troubles that she had little thought for the girl. - -"Caroline," she began anxiously, "tell me what happened. Edith won't -speak to me. She has locked herself up in her room. What was it? Where -has she been? What----" - -"She was at the telegraph office," answered Caroline in a low voice. - -"What did she do there? What happened there?" - -"I am not sure." - -"But try to tell me, dear." - -"I would if I could, Mrs. Varney, but I was afraid and ran out and -waited for her in the hall. The rest of them----" The girl broke off as -the deep tones of the city bells clanged sharply above the diapason of -artillery. - -"It's the alarm bell," said Mrs. Varney. - -"Yes," said Caroline, "they are calling out the last reserves." - -"Yes; hark to the cannonading. Isn't it awful?" returned Mrs. Varney. -"They must be making a terrible attack to-night. Lieutenant Maxwell was -right; that quiet spell was a signal." - -"There goes another battery of artillery," said Caroline, staring -through the window. "A man told us that they were sending them all over -to Cemetery Hill. That's where the fighting is, Cemetery Hill." - -"General Varney's Division is to the right of that position, or was the -last time I heard from him," said Mrs. Varney anxiously. - -The two women looked at each other for a moment, both of them thinking -the same thought, to which neither dared give utterance. The object of -their thought was the boy, and the continuous flashes of light on the -horizon seemed to make the situation more horrible. - -"I am afraid they are going to have a bad time of it to-night," said -Caroline, drawing the curtains and turning away from the window. - -"I'm afraid so," was the rejoinder. "Now, try to think, dear, who was at -the telegraph office? Can't you tell me something that occurred that -will explain Edith's silence? She looks like death, and----" - -"I can't tell you anything except that they arrested Mr. Arrelsford." - -"Mr. Arrelsford! You don't mean that?" - -"Yes, I do," answered Caroline. "General Randolph,--I went and brought -him there, because they wouldn't send my telegram,--he was in a fearful -temper----" - -"But Edith? Can't you tell me what she did?" - -"I can't, Mrs. Varney, for I don't know. I waited for her in the hall, -and when she came out she couldn't speak. Then we hurried home. I tried -to get her to tell me, but she wouldn't say a word except that her heart -was broken, and that's all I know, Mrs. Varney, truly, truly." - -"I believe you, my dear. I know you would tell me if you could." - -"I certainly would, for I love----" - -There was a loud ring at the front door. It was evidently unlocked, for, -without waiting for an answer, it was thrown open, roughly, and through -the hall and into the drawing-room stalked Mr. Arrelsford. He was wildly -excited, evidently in a tremendous hurry, and utterly oblivious to -manners or anything else. He had been checked and thwarted so many times -that he was in a bad temper for anything. - -"Is your daughter in the house?" he began roughly, without any further -preliminaries or salutation, without even removing his hat. - -Mrs. Varney drew herself up and looked at him. But he paid no attention -to her at all. - -"Answer," he said harshly. - -She bowed her head in the affirmative, scarcely able to speak in her -indignation at his manner and bearing. - -"I wish to see her." - -"I don't believe she will care to receive you at present," returned her -mother quietly. - -"What she cares to do at present is of small consequence. I must see her -at once. Shall I go up to her room with these men, or will you have her -down here?" - -The room had filled with soldiers as the two spoke together. - -"Neither the one nor the other, sir," said Mrs. Varney, who was not in -the least afraid of Mr. Arrelsford or his soldiers, "until I know your -business with her." - -"My business,--a few questions,--I've got a few questions to ask her. -Listen to that noise out yonder? Do you hear those guns and the troops -passing by? Now, you know what 'Attack to-night, Plan 3,' means." - -"Is that the attack!" asked Mrs. Varney. - -"That's the attack. They are breaking through our lines at Cemetery -Hill. That was the place indicated by 'Plan 3.' We are rushing to the -front all the reserves we have, to the last man and boy, but they may -not get there in time." - -"What, may I ask, has my daughter to do with it?" - -"Do with it? She did it!" asserted Arrelsford bitterly. - -"What!" exclaimed Mrs. Varney, in a great outburst of indignation. "How -dare you!" - -"We had him in a trap, under arrest, the telegraph under guard, when she -brought in that commission. We would have shot him in a moment, but they -took me prisoner and let him go." - -"Impossible!" whispered Mrs. Varney. "You don't mean----" - -"Yes, she did. She put the game in his hands. He got control of the -wires and the despatch went through. As soon as I could get to -headquarters I explained, and they saw the trick. They rushed the guard -back, but the scoundrel had got away. Foray was gone, too, and Allison -knew nothing about it, but we're after him, and if she knows where he -is," he turned as if to leave the room and ascend the stairs, "I will -get it out of her." - -"You don't suppose that my daughter would----" began Mrs. Varney. - -"I suppose everything." - -"I will not believe it," persisted the mother. - -"We can't wait for what you believe," said Arrelsford roughly, this time -taking a step toward the door. - -Mrs. Varney caught him by the arm. - -"Let me speak to her," she pleaded. - -"No, I will see her myself." - -But Miss Mitford, who had been the indirect cause of so much trouble, -once more interposed. She had listened to him with scarcely less -surprise than that developing in Mrs. Varney's breast. She took a -malicious joy in thwarting the Secret Service Agent. She barred the way, -her slight figure in the door, with arms extended. - -"Where is your order for this?" she asked. - -Arrelsford stared at her in surprise. - -"Get out of my way," he said curtly; "I have a word or two to say to you -after I have been upstairs." - -"Show me your order," persisted the girl, who made not the slightest -attempt to give way. - -"It's Department business and I don't require an order." - -"You are mistaken about that," said Caroline with astonishing -resourcefulness. "This is a private house, it isn't the telegraph office -or the Secret Service Department. If you want to go upstairs or see -anybody against their will, you will have to bring an order. I don't -know much, but I know enough for that." - -Arrelsford turned to Mrs. Varney. - -"Am I to understand, madam," he began, "that you refuse----" - -But before Mrs. Varney could answer, the soldiers Arrelsford had brought -with him gave way before the advent of a sergeant and another party of -men. The Sergeant advanced directly to Mrs. Varney, touched his cap to -her, and began: - -"Are you the lady that lives here, ma'am?" - -"Yes, I am Mrs. Varney." - -"I have an order from General Randolph's office to search this house -for----" - -"Just in time," said Arrelsford, stepping toward the Sergeant; "I will -go through the house with you." - -"Can't go through on this order," said the Sergeant shortly. - -"You were sent here to----" began Mrs. Varney. - -"Yes; sorry to trouble you, ma'am, but we'll have to be quick about it. -If we don't find him here we've got to follow him down Franklin Street; -he's over this way somewhere." - -"Who are you? What do you want?" - -"Man named Thorne, Captain of Artillery," answered the Sergeant; "that's -what he went by, at least. Here, two of you this way! That room in there -and the back of the house. Two of you outside," pointing to the windows. -"Cut off those windows. The rest upstairs." - -The men rapidly dispersed, obeying the commands of the Sergeant, and -began a thorough search of the house. Caroline Mitford preceded them up -the stairs to Edith's room. Arrelsford, after a moment's hesitation, -stepped toward the door and went out, followed by his men. Without a -word of acknowledgment or even a bow to Mrs. Varney, he and his men -presently left the house. As he did so, two of the Sergeant's men -reentered the room, shoving old Jonas roughly before them. The man's -livery was torn and dirty, his head was bound up, and he showed signs of -the rough handling he had undergone. - -"Where did you get that?" asked the Sergeant contemptuously. - -"He was locked in a closet, sir." - -"What were you doing in there?" He turned to the old negro. "If you -don't answer me, we will shoot the life out of you." He raised his -revolver threateningly. "Belongs to you, I reckon," he said to Mrs. -Varney. - -"Yes, my butler; they locked him up. Mr. Arrelsford wants him for -carrying a message." - -"That's all right," said the Sergeant. "If he wants him, he can have -him. We're looking for some one else. Put him back in his closet. Here, -this room! Be quick now! Cover that door. Sorry to disturb you, ma'am." - -"Do what you please," said Mrs. Varney; "I have nothing on earth to -conceal." - -As the men hurriedly withdrew to continue their search, the voice of a -newcomer was heard on the porch. The words came to them clearly: - -"Here, lend a hand, somebody, will you?" - -The next moment General Varney's orderly entered the room, caught sight -of the Sergeant, saluted, and then turned to Mrs. Varney. - -"I've brought back your boy, ma'am," he said. - -"Oh!" exclaimed Mrs. Varney faintly; "what do you mean----?" - -"We never got out to General Varney's. We ran into a Yankee raiding -party, cavalry, down here about three miles. Our home-guard was -galloping by on the run to head them off, and before I knew what he was -about, the boy was in with 'em, riding like mad. There was a bit of a -skirmish, and he got a clip across the neck. Nothing at all, ma'am. He -rode back all the way, and----" - -"Oh, my boy! He's hurt--he's hurt----" - -"Nothing serious, ma'am; don't upset yourself," returned the orderly -reassuringly. - -"Where did you----" - -But that moment the object of their solicitude himself appeared on the -scene. The boy was very pale, and his neck was bandaged. Two of the -Sergeant's men supported him. - -"Oh, Wilfred!" cried his mother; "my boy!" - -"It's nothing, mother," said Wilfred, motioning her away. "You don't -understand." The boy tried to free himself from the men who still held -him by the arm. "What do you want to hold me like that for?" he -expostulated, as he drew himself away and took a few steps. "You see I -can walk," he protested. - -His words were brave, but his performance was weak. His mother came -close to him and extended her arms toward him. But Wilfred was a soldier -now, and he did not want any scenes. Therefore, with a great effort, he -took her hand in as casual a manner as possible, quite like a stranger -paying an afternoon call. - -"How do you do, mother?" he said. "You didn't expect me back so soon, -did you? I will tell you how it was. Don't you go away, orderly. I will -just rest a minute, and then I will go back with you." Another outburst -of the cannon and the frantic pealing of the alarm bells caught his -attention. "See, they are ringing the bells calling out the reserves." -He started toward the door. "I will go right now." - -"No, no, Wilfred," said his mother, taking his arm; "not now, my son." - -"Not now?" said Wilfred, whose weakness was growing apparent. "Do you -hear those--those--those bells and--then tell me not--to go--why----" - -He swayed and tottered. - -"Stand by there!" cried the Sergeant. - -The two men immediately caught hold of him as he fainted. They carried -him to the lounge. - -"Find some water, will you?" continued the Sergeant. "Put his head down, -ma'am, and he'll be all right in a minute. He's only fainted." - -One of the privates who had hurried off in search of water soon came -back with a basin full, with which Mrs. Varney laved the boy's head. - -"He'll be all right in a minute," said the Sergeant. "Come, men." - -He turned as he spoke, and, followed by the men, left the room, leaving -Mrs. Varney with Wilfred and the orderly. It was the latter who broke -the silence. - -"If there isn't anything else, ma'am, I believe I'd better report back -to the General." - -"Yes," said Mrs. Varney, "don't wait. The wound is dressed, isn't it?" - -"Yes; I took him to the Winder Hospital. They said he would be on his -feet in a day or two, but he wants to be kept pretty quiet." - -"Tell the General how it happened." - -"Very well, ma'am," said the orderly, touching his cap and going out. - -The next person to enter the room was Caroline Mitford. The noise of the -men searching the house was very plain. Having informed Edith of the -meaning of the tumult, she had come downstairs to enquire if they had -found Thorne. She came slowly within the door--rather listlessly, in -fact. The exciting events of the night in which she had taken part had -somewhat sapped her natural vivacity, but she was shocked into instant -action when she saw Wilfred stretched upon the sofa. - -"Oh!" she breathed in a low, tense whisper; "what is it? Is he----" - -"Caroline dear," said Mrs. Varney, "it is nothing serious. He isn't -badly hurt. He was cut in the neck and fainted. There, there,"--the -woman rose from Wilfred's side and caught the girl,--"don't you faint, -too, dear." - -"I am not going to faint," said Caroline desperately. She took Mrs. -Varney's handkerchief from the latter's hand, and dipped it in the -water. "I can take care of him," she continued, kneeling down by her -boyish lover. "I don't need anybody down here at all. The men are going -all over the house and----" - -"But, Caroline----" began Mrs. Varney. - -"Mrs. Varney," returned the girl, strangely quiet, "there's a heap of -soldiers upstairs, looking in all the rooms. I reckon you'd better go -and attend to them. They will be in Edith's room, or Howard's, in a -minute." - -"Yes, yes," said Mrs. Varney, "and Howard so ill. I must go for a few -minutes, anyway. You know what to do?" - -"Oh, yes," answered the girl confidently. - -"Bathe his forehead. He isn't badly hurt, dear. I won't be long, and he -will soon come to, I am sure," said Mrs. Varney, hastening away. - -Presently Wilfred opened his eyes. He stared about him unmeaningly and -uncomprehendingly for the moment. - -"Wilfred, dear Wilfred," began the girl in soft, low, caressing tones, -"you are not hurt much, are you? Oh, not much! There, you will feel -better in just a moment, dear Wilfred." - -[Illustration: "You are not hurt much, are you?"] - -"Is there--are you----?" questioned Wilfred, striving to concentrate his -mind on the problem of his whereabouts and her presence. - -"Oh, Wilfred, don't you know me?" - -"What are you talking about?" said Wilfred more strongly. "Of course I -know you. Where am I?" And as full consciousness came back to him, "What -am I doing, anyway? Taking a bath?" - -"No, no, Wilfred; you see I am bathing your head. You fainted a little, -and----" - -"Fainted!" exclaimed Wilfred in deep disgust. "I fainted!" He made a -feeble attempt to rise, but sank back weakly. "Yes, of course, I was in -a fight with the Yankees and got wounded somewhere." - -He stopped, puzzled, staring strangely, almost afraid, at Caroline. - -"What is it?" asked the girl. - -"See here," he began seriously; "I will tell you one thing right now. I -am not going to load you up with a cripple, not much." - -His resignation was wonderful. - -"Cripple!" exclaimed Caroline, bewildered. - -"I reckon I've got an arm knocked off, haven't I?" - -"No, you haven't, Wilfred; they are both on all right." - -"Perhaps it was a hand that they shot away?" - -"Not a single one," said Caroline. - -"Are my--my ears on all right?" - -"Yes," answered the girl. "You needn't bother about them for a moment." - -Wilfred staked all on the last question. - -"How many legs have I got left?" - -"All of them," answered Caroline; "every one." - -"Then, if there's enough of me left to--to amount to anything--you'll -take charge of it, just the same? How about that?" - -"That's all right," said the girl, burying her face on his shoulder. - -Wilfred got hold of her hand and kissed it passionately. He seemed quite -strong enough for that. - -"I tried to send you a telegram but they wouldn't let me," whispered -Caroline suddenly, raising her head and looking at him. - -"You did?" - -"Yes." - -"What did you say in it?" - -But here the girl's courage failed her. - -"Tell me what you said," persisted Wilfred. - -"It was something very nice," faltered poor Caroline. - -"It was, eh?" - -"Yes." - -"Was it as nice as this?" asked Wilfred, suddenly lifting his head and -kissing her. - -"I don't know about that," stammered Caroline, blushing a beautiful -crimson, "but it was very nice. I wouldn't have tried to telegraph it if -it was something bad, would I?" - -"Well, if it was so good," said Wilfred, "why on earth didn't you send -it?" - -"Goodness gracious!" exclaimed Caroline; "how could I when they wouldn't -let me?" - -"Wouldn't let you?" - -"I should think not. They had a dreadful time at the telegraph office." - -"At the telegraph office; were you there?" Wilfred made a violent effort -to recollect. "I have it," he said in stronger tones; "they told me at -the hospital. I must get up." - -"No, no; you mustn't," said Caroline, interposing. - -"Don't," said Wilfred; "I have to attend to it." He spoke with a stern, -strange decision, entirely foreign to his previous idle love-making. "I -know all about Thorne. He gets hold of our Department Telegraph and -sends out a false order, weakens our defences at Cemetery Hill." The boy -got to his feet by this time, steadying himself by Caroline's shoulder. -"They are down on us in a moment." A look of pain, not physical, shot -across his face, but he mastered it. "And she gave it to him, the -commission; my sister Edith!" he continued bitterly. - -"Oh!" said Caroline; "you know----" - -"I know this. If my father were here, he'd see her. As he isn't here, I -will attend to it. Send her to me." - -He spoke weakly, but in a clear voice and a most imperative manner. He -took his hand off Caroline's shoulder. If he were to deal with this, so -grave and critical a situation, he must do it without feminine support. -By a great effort he held himself resolutely erect, repeating his -command. - -"Send her to me." - -"No," said Caroline faintly, just as Mrs. Varney reentered the room. - -"What is it?" asked the mother. - -"He wants to see Edith," returned the girl. - -"Not now, Wilfred," persisted Mrs. Varney; "you are weak and ill, and -Edith----" - -"Tell her to come here, I must see her at once," repeated Wilfred. - -Mrs. Varney instantly divined the reason. Caroline had told him about -the telegraph office, but she could see no advantage to be gained by the -interview he sought. - -"It won't do you any good, Wilfred," she said. "She won't speak a word -to anybody about it." - -"I don't want her to speak to me," returned the boy grimly; "I am going -to speak to her." - -"But some other time, Wilfred," urged his mother. - -"No, no; immediately," but as no one made the slightest effort toward -complying with his demand, "Very well," he continued, moving slowly -toward the door, and by a determined effort keeping his feet. "If you -won't send her to me, I will----" - -"There, there," said Mrs. Varney, interposing swiftly; "if you must, you -must. Since you insist, I will call her." - -"I do insist." - -"Stay with him, dear," said Mrs. Varney to Caroline, "and I will go and -call her." - -"No," said Wilfred, "I want to see her alone." - -Wondering much at this move of her boy-lover, but somehow feeling that -Wilfred represented his father and the law, Caroline, after one long -look at his pale but composed face, turned and followed Mrs. Varney out -of the room. - - - - - CHAPTER XVIII - - CAPTAIN THORNE JUSTIFIES HIMSELF - - -After the two women had left him, Wilfred stood motionless for a moment, -and then sat wearily down to rest. Scarcely had he done so when he heard -shouts far outside in the street, the heavy trampling of feet, cries, -directions, orders. He rose and walked over to the window. The cries -were growing louder and the footsteps more distinct. Men were -approaching the house rapidly, he could tell that they were running. -What could they be? What was toward? A suspicion flashed into his mind. -It had hardly found lodgment there when Thorne sprang upon the porch, -leaped across it, and burst through the other front window into the long -room. A pedestal with a bust of Washington on it was standing between -the windows. As Thorne sprang back from the window, he knocked against -it. It fell to the floor with a tremendous crash. - -He stood staring a moment toward the window, listening while the noise -of the running feet died away in the distance. It seemed that he had -distanced his pursuers or eluded them for the time being. It could only -be for a moment, however; he had other things to think of. Well, that -moment would be enough; it was all he required. He turned to go down the -room, only to find himself confronted by the boy. - -It is hard to say which was the more surprised of the two--Thorne at -seeing Wilfred, or Wilfred at Thorne's appearance. The latter's face was -pale, his breath was coming rapidly, he was bareheaded. His brow was -covered with sweat, and he had the hunted, desperate look of a man at -the very end of his resources. Neither at first said anything to the -other. It was Thorne who first recovered himself. He sought to pass by -the boy, but Wilfred seized him. - -"Halt!" he cried; "you are under arrest." - -"Wait a moment!" gasped out Thorne; "and I will go with you." - -As he spoke he shook himself loose from the weak grasp of the wounded -young man, and started down the room. - -"Halt, I say!" cried Wilfred. "You are my prisoner." - -"All right, all right," said Thorne quietly; "your prisoner, anything -you like. Here,"--he drew his revolver from his pocket and pushed it -into the boy's hand; "take this, shoot the life out of me, if you wish; -but give me a chance to see my brother first." - -"Your brother?" - -"Yes. He was shot here to-night. I want one look at his face; that's -all." - -"Where is he?" - -"Maybe they put him in the room across the hall yonder." - -"What would he be doing there?" asked Wilfred, not yet apprehending the -situation from Thorne's remarks. - -"Nothing," said the other bitterly; "I guess he is dead." - -"Wait," said Wilfred. He stepped across the hall, keeping Thorne covered -with his revolver. "Don't move; I will see." He threw open the door, -glanced in, and then came back. "It's a lie!" he said. - -"What!" exclaimed Thorne. - -"There is no one in there. It is just one of your tricks. Call the -guard!" He shouted toward the hall, and then toward the window. -"Sergeant of the Guard! Captain Thorne is here, in this house." - -He stepped out on the porch and shouted again with astonishing power for -one so painfully wounded as he. Then the boy felt a faintness come over -him. He sank down on a seat on the porch and leaned his head against the -house, and sought to recover his strength, fighting a desperate battle; -fearful lest Thorne should escape while he was thus helpless. - -It was Edith Varney who first replied to his frantic summons by hurrying -into the room. She was as much surprised to see Thorne as he was to see -her. Her heart leaped in her bosom at the sight of him, and she stared -at him as at a wraith or a vision. - -"You wouldn't tell me an untruth, would you?" said Thorne, coming closer -to her. "He was shot in this room an hour ago, my brother Henry. I'd -like to take one look at his dead face before they send me the same way. -Where is he? Can't you tell me that much, Miss Varney? Is he in the -house?" - -Edith looked at his face, shook her head a little, and moved away from -him toward the table. Thorne threw up his hands in a gesture of despair, -and turned toward the window. As he did so, Wilfred, having recovered -from his faintness a little, called out again: - -"The guard! The escaped prisoner, Captain Thorne!" - -This time his frantic outcry was answered. At last they were closing in -upon the wretched man. He turned from the window and faced the girl, -scarcely less wretched than he, and laughed shortly. - -"They are on the scent, you see," he said; "they'll get me in a minute; -and when they do, it won't take them long to finish me off. And as -that'll be the last of me, Miss Varney, maybe you'll listen to one -thing. We can't all die a soldier's death, in the roar and glory of -battle, our friends about us, under the flag we love. No, not all! Some -of us have orders for another kind of work, dare-devil, desperate work, -the hazardous schemes of the Secret Service. We fight our battles alone, -no comrades to cheer us on, ten thousand to one against us, death at -every turn. If we win, we escape with our lives; if we lose, we are -dragged out and butchered like dogs. No soldier's grave, not even a -trench with the rest of the boys--alone, despised, forgotten! These were -my orders, Miss Varney; this is the death I die to-night, and I don't -want you to think for one moment that I am ashamed of it; no, not for -one moment." - -The sound of heavy feet drew nearer. Wilfred called again, while the two -in the room confronted each other, the man erect, and the woman, too. A -strange pain was in her heart. At least here was a man, but before she -could say a word in answer to his impassioned defence, the room filled -with soldiers. - -"There's your man, Sergeant," said Wilfred; "I hand him over to you." - -"You are my prisoner," said the Sergeant. - -His command was reinforced by a number of others, including Corporal -Matson and his squad, and some of the men of the Provost Guard, who had -been chasing Thorne through the streets. At this juncture, Arrelsford, -panting and breathless, also joined the company in the drawing-room. He -came in rapidly, thrusting aside those in his way. - -"Where is he?" he cried. "Ah!" he exclaimed triumphantly, as his eye -fell upon Thorne, standing quietly, surrounded by the soldiers. "We've -got him, have we?" - -"Young Mr. Varney, here, took him, sir," said the Sergeant. - -"So," returned Arrelsford to his prisoner, "run down at last. Now, you -will find out what it costs to play your little game with our Government -Telegraph lines." - -But Thorne did not turn his head, although Arrelsford spoke almost in -his ear. He looked straight at Edith Varney, and she returned his -glance. - -"Don't waste any time, Sergeant," said Arrelsford furiously. "Take him -down the street and shoot him full of lead. Out with him." - -"Very well, sir," said the Sergeant. - -But Wilfred interposed. He came forward, Thorne's revolver still in his -hand. - -"No," he said decisively; "whatever he is, whatever he has done, he has -the right to a trial." - -"The head of the Secret Service Department said to me if I found him, to -shoot him at sight," snarled Arrelsford. - -"I don't care what General Tarleton said. I captured this man; he's in -this house, and he is not going out unless he is treated fairly." - -The Sergeant looked uncertainly from Wilfred to Arrelsford. Mrs. Varney, -who had entered with the rest of them, and who now stood by her -daughter's side, looked her approval at her son. The mettle of his -distinguished father was surely in his veins. - -"Well done," said the woman softly, but not so softly that those about -her did not hear; "your father would have spoken so." - -Arrelsford came to a sudden decision. - -"Well, let him have a trial. We'll give him a drumhead court-martial, -but it will be the quickest ever held on earth. Stack your muskets here, -and organise a court," he said. - -"Fall in here," cried the Sergeant, at which the men quickly took their -places. "Attention! Stack arms! Two of you take the prisoner. Where -shall we find a vacant room, ma'am?" - -"Across the hall," said Mrs. Varney; "where the ladies were sewing this -evening." - -"Very good," said the Sergeant. "Left face! Forward, march!" - -Arrelsford and Wilfred followed the soldiers. - -"I am the chief witness," said the former. - -"I will see that he gets fair play," remarked the latter, as they -marched out. - -"I must go to Howard," said Mrs. Varney; "this excitement is killing -him; I am afraid he will hardly survive the night. Caroline is with him -now." - -"Very well, mother," said Edith, going slowly up the now deserted room -and standing in the window, looking out into the night, thinking her -strange, appalling thoughts. They would convict him, shoot him, there -was no hope. What had he said? He was not ashamed of his work. It was -the highest duty and involved the highest and noblest sacrifice, because -it made the greatest demand; and they would shoot him like a mad dog. - -"Oh, God!" she whispered; "if some bullet would only find my heart as -well." - - - - - CHAPTER XIX - - THE DRUMHEAD COURT-MARTIAL - - -It so happened that the soldiers who had thrust old Jonas back in his -closet, whence they had taken him a short time before, in their haste, -had failed to lock the door upon him. The negro, who had listened for -the click of the key in the lock, had at once known of their -carelessness. So soon as they had withdrawn from the room, and their -search took them to other parts of the house, he had opened the door -cautiously and had made his way toward the hall by the drawing-room, -which he felt instinctively was the place where the exciting events of -the night would soon culminate. - -Thorne's entry and the circumstances of his apprehension had been so -engrossing that no one had given a thought to Jonas, or to any other -part of the house, for that matter, and he had been able to see -everything through the hangings. He was a quick-witted old negro, and he -knew, of course, that there would be but one verdict given by such a -court-martial as had assembled. Now, the men who composed the court -would of necessity be detailed to carry out their own sentence. The long -room was filled with stacks of guns. Every soldier, even those under the -command of Corporal Matson in Arrelsford's Department, had gone to the -court-martial. There was nothing else of interest to attract them in the -house. Every gun was there in that room, unguarded. - -A recent capture of a battalion of Federal riflemen had put the -Confederates into possession of a few hundred breech-loading weapons, -not of the latest and most approved pattern, for the cartridges in these -guns were in cardboard shells, but still better than any the South -possessed. These rifles had been distributed to some of the companies in -garrison at Richmond, and it so happened that the men of the Secret -Service squad and the Provost Guard had received most of them. Every gun -in the stacks was of this pattern. - -In his earlier days, Jonas had been his young master's personal -attendant, his body-servant, and as such he had often gone hunting with -him. During the war he had frequently visited him in camp, charged with -messages of one sort or another, and he knew all about weapons. - -As he stared into the long room after the departing soldiers, he did not -know Edith Varney was still there, nor could he see her at all, for she -was on the other side of the curtain, looking out of the window, and it -seemed to him that the room was empty. - -Jonas was a very intelligent negro, and while under any ordinary -circumstances his devotion to his master and mistress would have been -absolutely sure, yet he had become tinged with the ideas of freedom and -liberty in the air. He had assisted many and many a Union prisoner. -Captain Thorne, by his pleasant ways and nice address, had won his -heart. And he himself was deeply concerned personally that the young man -should not be punished for his attempt to bring about the success of the -Union cause, which Jonas felt to be his own cause. Therefore he had a -double motive to secure the freedom of his principal if it were in any -way possible. Of course, any direct interposition was out of the -question. He was still only a slave. His open interference would have -been fruitless of any consequences except bad ones for himself, and he -was already more than compromised by the events of the night. What he -was to do he must do by stealth. - -As he stared at the pyramids of guns, listening to the hum of -conversation from the room across the hall--the door had been -fortunately closed--a thought came to him. He pushed aside the portieres -with which he had concealed himself, and entered the room by the back -door. He glanced about apprehensively. He was not burdened with any -overplus of physical courage, and what he did was the more remarkable, -especially in view of the fact that the soldiers might return at any -moment and catch him at what they could very easily construe as an act -of high treason, which would result in his blood being mingled with that -of Captain Thorne, in the same gutter, probably. - -He moved with cat-like swiftness in the direction of the first stack of -rules. He knelt down by it, seized the nearest gun, which lay across the -other three, swiftly opened the breech-plug, drew out the cartridge, -looked at it a moment, put the end of it in his mouth, and crunched his -strong white teeth down upon it. When he finished, he had the leaden -bullet in his mouth, and the cardboard shell in his hand. He replaced -this latter in the chamber and closed the breech-plug. A smile of -triumph irradiated his sable features. The gun could be fired, but -whatever or whoever stood in front of it would be unharmed. - -He had not been quite sure that he could do this, but the result of his -experiment convinced him. All the other guns were of the same character, -and, given the time, he could render them all harmless. He did not waste -time in reflection, but started in with the same process on the others. -He worked with furious haste until every bullet had been bitten off -every cartridge. It would have been impossible to have drawn the bullets -of the ordinary muzzle-loading rifle, or army musket, in twenty times -the period. - -The noise of Jonas' first entrance had attracted the attention of Edith -Varney. She had turned with the intention of going into the room, but, -on second thought, she had concealed herself further behind the -curtains. Between the wall and the edge of the portieres was a little -space, through which she peered. She saw the whole performance, and -divined instantly what was in Jonas' mind, and what the result of his -actions would be. - -In an incredibly short time, considering what he had to do, the old -negro finished his task. He rose to his feet and stood staring -triumphantly at the long stacks of guns. He even permitted himself a low -chuckle, with a glance across the hall to the court. Well, he had at -least done something worthy of a man's approbation in this dramatic game -in which he was so humble a player. - -Now Edith Varney, who had observed him with mingled admiration and -resentment--resentment that he had proven false to her people, her -family; and admiration at his cleverness--stepped further into the room -as he finished the last musket, and, as he started toward the lower end -of the room to make good his escape, she coughed slightly. - -Jonas stopped and wheeled about instantly, frightened to death, of -course, but somewhat relieved when he saw who it was who had had him -under observation, and who had interrupted him. He realised at once that -it was no use to attempt to conceal anything, and he threw himself upon -the mercy of his young mistress, and, with great adroitness, sought to -enlist her support for what he had done. - -"Dey's gwine to shoot him, shoot him down lak a dog, missy," he said in -a low, pleading whisper, "an' Ah couldn't b'ah to see 'em do dat. Ah -wouldn't lak to see him killed, Ah wouldn't lak it noways. You won't say -nuffin' about dis fo' de sake ob old Jonas, what always was so fond ob -you ebah sense you was a little chile. You see, Ah jes' tek dese -yeah"--he extended his hand, full of leaden bullets--"an' den dey won't -be no ha'm cum to him whatsomebah, les'n dey loads 'em up agin. When dey -shoots, an' he jes' draps down, dey'll roll him obah into de guttah, an' -be off lak mad. Den Ah kin be neah by an'"--he stopped, and, if his face -had been full of apprehension before, it now became transformed with -anxiety. "How's he gwine to know?" he asked. "If he don't drap down, -dey'll shoot him agin, an' dey'll hab bullets in dem next time. What Ah -gwine to do, how Ah gwine to tell him?" - -Edith had listened to him as one in a dream. Her face had softened a -little. After all, this negro had done this thing for the man she--God -forgive her--still loved. - -"You tell him," whispered Jonas; "you tell him, it's de on'y way. Tell -him to drap down. Do dis fo' ole Jonas, honey; do it fo' me, an' Ah'll -be a slabe to you as long as Ah lib, no mattah what Mars Linkum does. -Listen," said the old man, as a sudden commotion was heard in the room -across the hall. "Dey gwine to kill him. You do it." - -Nothing could be gained by remaining. He had said all he could, used -every argument possible to him, and, realising his danger, he turned and -disappeared through the back door into the dark rear hall. There was a -scraping of chairs and a trampling of feet, a few words heard -indistinctly, and then the voice of the old Sergeant: - -"Fall in! Right Face! Forward--March!" - -Before they came into the hall, Jonas made one last appeal. He thrust -his old black face through the portieres, his eyes rolling, his jaws -working. - -"Fo' Gawd's sek, missy, tell him to drap down," he whispered as he -disappeared. - -Wilfred, not waiting for the soldiers, came into the room, and Caroline -followed him. - -"Where's mother?" asked Wilfred. - -"She's gone up to Howard; I think he is dying," said Caroline. "She -can't leave him for anybody or anything." - -If Edith heard, she gave no sign. She stood motionless on the other side -of the room, and stared toward the door; they would bring him back that -way, and she could see him again. - -"Wilfred dear," asked Caroline, "what are they going to do?" - -"Shoot him." - -"When?" - -"Now." - -"Where?" - -"Out in the street." - -Caroline's low exclamation of pity struck a responsive chord in -Wilfred's heart. He nodded gravely, and bit his lips. He did not feel -particularly happy over the situation, evidently, but the conversation -was interrupted by the entrance of the men. They came into the room in a -double line, Thorne walking easily between them. They entered the room -by the door, marched down it, came back, and ranged themselves opposite -the stacks of arms. - -"Halt!" cried the Sergeant. "Right Face! Take arms! Carry arms! Left -face! Forward--March!" - -Edith had not taken her eyes off Thorne since he had reentered the room. -She had watched him as if fascinated. He had shot at her one quick, -searching glance, and then had kept his eyes averted, not because he -would not like to look at her, but because he could not bear himself -like a man in these last swift terrible seconds, if he did. - -As the men moved to carry out their last order, the girl awoke to her -surroundings. - -"Wait," she said. "Who is in command!" - -"I am, miss," answered the Sergeant. - -Arrelsford, who had entered with the soldiers, started at this, but he -said nothing. - -"I'd like to speak to the--the prisoner," continued Edith. - -"I'm sorry, miss," answered the Sergeant respectfully, but abruptly; -"but we haven't the time." - -"Only a word, Sergeant," pleaded the girl, stepping close to him, and -laying her hand on his arm. - -The Sergeant looked at her a moment. What he saw in her eyes touched his -very soul. - -"Very well," he said. "Right face! Fall out the prisoner!" - -Thorne stepped out in front of the ranks. - -"Now, Miss," said the Sergeant; "be quick about it." - -"No!" said Wilfred sternly. - -"Oh, Wilfred!" cried Caroline, laying her hand on his arm. "Let her -speak to him, let her say good-bye." - -There was an instant's pause. Wilfred looked from Caroline's flushed, -eager face, to Edith's pale one. After all, what was the harm? He nodded -his head, but no one moved. It was the Sergeant who broke the silence. - -"The lady," he said, looking at Thorne, and pointing at Edith. As he -spoke, he added another order. "Matson, take your squad and guard the -windows. Prisoner, you can go over to the side of the room." - -The Sergeant's purpose was plain. It would give Edith Varney an -opportunity to say what she had to say to Thorne in a low voice if she -chose, without the possibility of being overheard. The initiative must -come from the woman, the man realised. It was Edith who turned and -walked slowly across the room, Thorne followed her more rapidly, and the -two stood side by side. They were thus so placed by the kindness of the -veteran that she could speak her words, and no one could hear what they -were. - -"One of the servants," began the girl in a low, utterly passionless and -expressionless voice, "Jonas, has taken the bullets from the guns. If -you will drop when they fire, you can escape with your life." - -In exactly the same level, almost monotonous, voice, Thorne whispered a -pertinent question: - -"Shall I do this for you?" - -"It is nothing to me," said the woman quietly, and might God forgive -her, she prayed, for that falsehood. - -Thorne looked at her, his soul in his eyes. If her face had been carved -from marble, it could not have been more expressionless and indifferent. -He could not know how wildly her heart was beating underneath that stony -exterior. Well, she had turned against him. He was nothing to her. There -was no use living any longer. She did not care. - -"Were you responsible in any way for it?" he asked. - -The girl shook her head and turned away without looking at him. She had -not the least idea of what he was about to do. Not one man in a thousand -would have done it. Perhaps if he went to his death in some quixotic -way, he might redeem himself in her eyes, had flashed into Thorne's -mind, as he turned to the guard. - -"Sergeant," he said, saluting. He spoke in a clear, cool, most -indifferent way. "You had better take a look at the rifles of your -command. I understand they have been tampered with." - -"What the hell!" cried the Sergeant, seizing a piece from the nearest -man. He snapped open the breech-plug and drew out the cartridge and -examined it. Some one had bitten off the bullet! He saw everything -clearly. "Squad ready!" he cried. "Draw cartridges!" - -There was a rattling of breech-plugs and a low murmur of astonishment, -as every man found that his cartridge was without a bullet. - -"With ball cartridges, load!" cried the Sergeant. "Carry arms!" - -When this little manoeuvre, which was completed with swiftness and -precision because the men were all veterans, was finished, the Sergeant -turned to the prisoner, who had stood composedly watching the -performance which took away his last opportunity for escape, and saluted -him with distinct admiration. - -"I am much obliged to you, sir," he said. - -How Edith Varney kept her feet, why she did not scream or faint away, -she could not tell. Thorne's words had petrified her. Her pride kept her -from acknowledging what she felt. She had never dreamed of any such -action on his part, and it seemed to her that she had sent him to his -death again. How could she retrace her steps, repair her blunder? There -was nothing to do. But her countenance changed. A look of such desperate -entreaty came into her face as fully betrayed her feelings. Of the -people in the room, only Arrelsford observed her, and even his jealousy -and resentment were slightly softened by her visible anguish. Everybody -was staring at Thorne, for they all knew the result of his remarkable -action, although no one could in the least degree fathom the reason. - -It was Wilfred who broke the silence. He walked slowly up to Thorne and -thrust out his hand. - -"I would like to shake hands with you," he said admiringly, and for the -first time in the long hours a slight smile quivered about the man's -lips. It was the generous, spontaneous tribute of youth that gave him -that moment of melancholy satisfaction. - -"Oh," thought Edith, watching her brother; "if only I dared to do the -like." - -"Is this for yourself?" asked Thorne, "or your father?" - -"For both of us, sir," answered Wilfred. - -Thorne shook him by the hand. The two looked into each other's faces, -and everybody saw the satisfaction and gratification of the older man. - -"That's all, Sergeant," said Thorne, turning away. - -"Fall in the prisoner! Escort left face! Forward--March!" cried the -Sergeant. - -At that moment a man, breathless from having run rapidly, entered the -room by the window. His uniform was that of an officer, and he wore a -Lieutenant's shoulder-straps. - -"Halt!" he cried, as he burst into the room. "Are you in command, -Sergeant?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"General Randolph's on the way here with orders. You will please wait -until----" - -But Arrelsford now interposed. - -"What orders, Lieutenant? Anything to do with this case?" - -The officer looked greatly surprised at this intervention by a civilian, -but he answered civilly enough: - -"I don't know what his orders are. He has been with the President." - -"But I sent word to the Department," said Arrelsford, "that we had got -the man, and were going to drumhead him on the spot." - -"Then this must be the case, sir. The General wishes to be present." - -"It is impossible," returned Arrelsford. "We have already held the -court, and I have sent the findings to the Secretary. The messenger is -to get his approval and meet us at the corner of the street yonder. I -have no doubt he is waiting there now. It is a mere formality." - -"I have no further orders to give, sir," said the Lieutenant. "General -Randolph will be here in a minute, but you can wait for him or not, as -you see fit." - -The Sergeant stood uncertain. For one thing, he was not anxious to carry -out the orders he had been given now. That one little action of Thorne's -had changed the whole situation. For another thing, Arrelsford was only -a civilian, and General Randolph was one of the ranking officers in -Richmond. - -"Move on, Sergeant," said Arrelsford peremptorily. "You have all the -authority you want, and----" - -The Sergeant held back, uncertainly, but the day was saved by the advent -of the General himself. - - - - - CHAPTER XX - - THE LAST REPRIEVE - - -General Randolph was evidently in a great hurry. Public affairs of great -moment pressed upon him, and it was an evidence of the interest he took -in the case of Captain Thorne that he gave him even a minute of his -valuable time. He had come on horseback, and everybody could see that he -was anxious to get through with his appointed task and get away. - -"Ah, Sergeant," he said, answering the latter's salute as he brought the -guard to attention, and then his eye fell upon Captain Thorne. "You have -the prisoner, have you?" - -"Just taking him out, sir," answered the Sergeant, saluting again. - -"To prison?" - -"No, sir." - -"Where, then?" - -"To execute the sentence of the court, sir." - -"Oh!" exclaimed the General, looking hard at the Sergeant. "He has had -his trial, has he?" - -But Arrelsford, who chafed at thus being left out of the game, now -stepped over and took up the burden of the conversation before the -Sergeant could reply. - -"We have done everything according to regulation, sir," he said, -saluting in a rather cavalier manner. He did not like General Randolph. -If it had not been for his interference, the affair would have been -settled long ago, and he still cherished a grudge against the latter for -having arrested a man so important as the trusted agent of the Secret -Service. "The findings have gone to the Secretary." - -"Ah!" said General Randolph blandly. He did not like Mr. Arrelsford any -better than Mr. Arrelsford liked him. - -"Yes, sir." - -"And he was found guilty, I presume?" - -"Certainly, sir." - -"And what are you going to do with him?" - -"There is no time for a hanging now, and the court has ordered him -shot." - -"Oh, indeed. And what were the charges?" - -"Conspiracy against our government and the success of our arms, by -sending a false and misleading despatch containing forged orders, was -the particular specification." - -"Well," said General Randolph, "I regret to say that the court has been -misinformed." - -"What!" cried Arrelsford, in great surprise. "The testimony was very -plain." - -"Yes, indeed, sir," interposed the Sergeant. - -"Nevertheless," returned the General, "the man is not guilty of that -charge. The despatch was not sent." - -Now Edith Varney had scarcely moved. She had expected nothing, she had -hoped for nothing, from the advent of the General. At best it would mean -only a little delay. The verdict was just, the sentence was adequate, -and the punishment must and would be carried out. She had listened, -scarcely apprehending, busy with her own thoughts, her eyes fastened on -Thorne, who stood there so pale and composed. But at this remarkable -statement by General Randolph she was suddenly quickened into life. A -low exclamation broke from her lips. A hope, not that his life might be -saved, but that it might be less shameful to love him, came into her -heart. Wilfred stepped forward also. - -The terse statement of the General had caused a great deal of excitement -and commotion in the room. Only Thorne preserved his calmness. He was -glad that Edith Varney had learned this, and he was more glad that she -had learned it from the lips of the enemy, but it would make no -difference in his fate. He was not guilty of that particular charge, but -there were dozens of other charges for which they could try him, the -punishment of any one of which was death. Besides, he was a spy caught -in the Confederate lines, wearing a uniform not his own. It was enough -that the woman should learn that he had not taken advantage of her -action; at least she could not reproach herself with that. - -"Why, General," began Arrelsford, greatly dismayed, "I hardly understand -what you mean. That despatch--I saw him myself----" - -General Randolph turned on him quickly. - -"I say that that despatch was not sent," he roared, striking the table -with his hand. "I expected to arrive in time for the trial. There is one -here who can testify. Lieutenant Foray?" - -From among the group of staff officers who had followed General -Randolph, Lieutenant Foray stepped forward before the General and -saluted. - -"Did Captain Thorne send out that despatch after we left you with him in -the office an hour ago?" asked the older officer. - -"No, sir," answered Foray promptly, glancing from Arrelsford's thwarted -and flushed and indignant countenance to Edith Varney's face, in which -he saw the light of a great illumination was shining. "No, sir," he -repeated; "I was just about to send it by his orders, when he -countermanded it and tore up the despatch." - -"And what despatch was it?" - -"It was one signed by the Secretary of War, sir, removing Marston's -Division from Cemetery Hill." - -"You hear, gentlemen," said the General, and, not giving them time to -answer, he turned again to Foray. "What were Captain Thorne's words at -the time?" - -"He said he refused to act under that commission, and crumpled it up and -threw it away." - -"That will do, Lieutenant," said General Randolph triumphantly. He -turned to Arrelsford again. "If you are not satisfied, Mr. Arrelsford, I -beg to inform you that we have a despatch, from General Chesney at the -front, in which he says that no orders were received from here. He got -an uncompleted despatch, but could not make anything out of it. -Marston's Division was not withdrawn from Cemetery Hill, and our -position was not weakened in any way. The attack there has failed." -There was a low murmur of astonishment from the group of men in the -room. Edith Varney did one significant thing. She made two steps in -Thorne's direction. That young man did not dare to trust himself to look -at her. "It is quite plain," continued the General, "that the court has -been acting under an error. The President of the Confederacy is, -therefore, compelled to disapprove the finding, and it is set aside. He -happened to be with the Secretary when the finding came in." - -Arrelsford made one last desperate effort. - -"General Randolph," he said, and, to do him justice, he did not lack -courage, "this was put in my hands, and----" - -General Randolph laughed. - -"I take it out of your hands," he said curtly. "Report back to the War -Office, or the Secret Service Office, with my compliments, and----" - -"But there are other charges upon which he could be tried," persisted -Arrelsford. "He is a spy anyway, and----" - -"I believe I gave you your orders, Mr. Arrelsford," interrupted the -General, with suspicious politeness. - -"But hadn't I better wait and see----" - -"By God, sir," thundered Randolph, "do I have to explain my orders to -the whole Secret Service of the Confederacy? Don't wait to see anything. -Go at once, or I will have you escorted by a file of soldiers." - -Arrelsford would have defied the General if there had been the least use -in the world in doing it, but the game was clearly up for the present. -He would try to arrange to have Thorne rearrested and tried as a spy -later. Now he could do nothing. He walked out of the room, pride -enabling him to keep up a brave front, but with disappointment and -resentment raging in his heart. He did not realise that his power over -Thorne had been withdrawn. In the great game that they had played, he -had lost at all points. They all watched him go, not a single one in the -room with sympathy, or even pity. - -"Now, Sergeant," said the General, as they heard the heavy hall door -close; "I want to speak to the prisoner." - -"Order arms!" cried the Sergeant. "Parade rest!" As the squad assumed -these positions in obedience to his commands, the Sergeant continued, -"Fall out the prisoner." - -Thorne stepped forward one pace from the ranks, and saluted the General. -He kept his eyes fixed upon that gentleman, and it was only the -throbbing of his heart that made him aware that Edith Varney was by his -side. She bent her head toward him; he felt her warm breath against his -cheek as she whispered: - -"Oh! Why didn't you tell me? I thought you sent it, I thought you----" - -"Miss Varney!" exclaimed the General in surprise. - -But Edith threw maidenly reserve to the winds. The suddenness of the -revelation overwhelmed her. - -"There is nothing against him, General Randolph, now; is there? He -didn't send it. There's nothing to try him for!" she said. - -General Randolph smiled grimly at her. - -"You are very much mistaken, Miss Varney," he answered. "The fact of his -being caught in our lines without his proper uniform is enough to hang -him in ten minutes." - -Edith caught her heart with her hand with a sharp exclamation, but -General Randolph had turned to speak to the prisoner. - -"Captain Thorne," he said, "or Lewis Dumont, if that is your name; the -President is fully informed regarding the circumstances of your case, -and I needn't say that we look upon you as a cursed dangerous character. -There isn't any doubt whatever that you ought to be shot right now, but, -considering the damned peculiarity of your behaviour, and that you -refused to send out that despatch when you might have done so, we've -decided to keep you out of mischief some other way. You will be held a -prisoner of war." - -Captain Thorne was almost too dazed to realise the purport of the -decree. He mechanically saluted, and from his lips broke a murmured, - -"Thank you, sir." - -The General looked at him severely, and then, seeing Edith Varney, -turned away and engaged in conversation with his staff. His intention -was obvious, and Edith immediately embraced the opportunity. - -"Oh!" she said; "that isn't nearly so bad as death," and before them all -she stretched out her hand to him. - -"No?" queried Thorne in a low voice. - -"No," she said, forcing herself to look at him. "After a while -perhaps--some time----" - -"Oh!" said Thorne. "Some time? If it's some time, that's enough." - -Mrs. Varney, having succeeded in getting Howard quiet and composed, had -been in the room since the advent of General Randolph. - -"Mamma," said Edith, "won't you speak to him, too?" - -Mrs. Varney approached him, but Wilfred was quicker. - -"I would like to shake hands with you," he said, with boyish enthusiasm. - -"What, again?" said Thorne, smiling. "All right." He stretched out his -hand. "Go ahead." - -"And so would I," said Caroline, following the lead of her boy lover. - -"Don't be afraid now," said Wilfred. "Everything will be all right. They -will give you a parole, and----" - -"A parole!" said Caroline. "Goodness gracious, they will give you -hundreds of them, I am sure." - -But General Randolph turned once more. - -"One moment, please," said the officer. As he came forward, the others -fell back. Only Edith Varney kept her place close by Thorne's side. -"There is only one reason on earth why the President has set aside a -certain verdict of death. You held up that false order and made a turn -in our favor. You are not to be tried as a spy, but held as a prisoner -of war. We expect you to make that turn complete and enter our service." - -"Never," replied Thorne instantly. "That's impossible, sir." - -"You can give us your answer later," said the General. - -"You have it now." - -"You will be kept in close confinement until you come to our terms," -continued the older officer. - -"You make me a prisoner for life, then." - -"You will see it in another light before many days, and it wouldn't -surprise me if Miss Varney had something to do with a change in your -views." - -"You are mistaken, General Randolph," quickly interposed Edith. "I think -he is perfectly right." - -"Oh, very well," said the General, smiling a little. "We will see what a -little prison life will do. Sergeant?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"I have turned the prisoner over to Major Whitfield. He requests you to -take the prisoner to his office, where he'll take charge of him." - -"Very good, sir," answered the Sergeant. - -"What is it?" whispered Thorne to Edith. "Love and good-bye?" - -"No," answered the girl; "only the first." She stopped and looked up at -him, her face flushed, her heart throbbing, her eyes shining gloriously. -"And that every day, every hour, every minute, until we meet again." - -"Thank God," whispered Thorne. "Until we meet again." - -"Attention!" cried the Sergeant. "Carry arms! Left face! Fall in the -prisoner! Forward--March!" - - - - - AFTERWORD - - -And so the great adventure is over, the story is told, and the play is -played. It is hard to tell who lost and who won. It made little -difference in the end that Marston's Division had not been withdrawn, -and that the attack on Cemetery Hill had failed. It made little -difference in the end that Arrelsford had been thwarted in his attempts -to wreak his vengeance upon Thorne. It made little difference in the end -that Thorne refused to enter the service of the Confederacy, preferring -imprisonment for life. For the days of that Confederacy were numbered. -It was even then tottering on the verge of its grave, in spite of the -brave front it kept up. - -Three days after the events of that night, and Richmond had fallen, and -presently the last of the Confederate defenders halted at Appomattox. -The Stars and Bars were hauled down for the last time. The Army was -disbanded. The prisoners were released. There was a quiet wedding in the -old house. Howard, happily recovering from his wounds, was present. -General Varney himself gave away the bride--reluctantly, to be sure, yet -he did it. Wilfred took the place of the brother of Captain Thorne--to -continue to call him by the name he had assumed--and acted as the best -man. To whom should be given the coveted privilege of attending the -bride but to Miss Caroline Mitford! And Miss Kittridge and the few other -guests, including General Randolph, saw in the younger couple -indications that when a few more years had made it suitable, the two who -played the second part on this interesting occasion would be principals -themselves. - -There was much opposition, of course, to the wedding of Captain Thorne -and Edith Varney, and many bitter things were said, but there was no -restraining the young people. They had lived and suffered, they had -almost died together. The years of peace and harmony and friendship that -came to the sections at last, and the present happiness that was theirs -immediately, convinced even the most obdurate that what they had done -was exactly right. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - TITLES SELECTED FROM - GROSSET & DUNLAP'S LIST - - May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. - -THE SIEGE OF THE SEVEN SUITORS. By Meredith Nicholson. Illustrated by C. -Coles Phillips and Reginald Birch. - -Seven suitors vie with each other for the love of a beautiful girl, and -she subjects them to a test that is full of mystery, magic and sheer -amusement. - -THE MAGNET. By Henry C. Rowland. Illustrated by Clarence F. Underwood. - -The story of a remarkable courtship involving three pretty girls on a -yacht, a poet-lover in pursuit, and a mix-up in the names of the girls. - -THE TURN OF THE ROAD. By Eugenia Brooks Frothingham. - -A beautiful young opera singer chooses professional success instead of -love, but comes to a place in life where the call of the heart is -stronger than worldly success. - -SCOTTIE AND HIS LADY. By Margaret Morse. Illustrated by Harold M. Brett. - -A young girl whose affections have been blighted is presented with a -Scotch Collie to divert her mind, and the roving adventures of her pet -lead the young mistress into another romance. - -SHEILA VEDDER. By Amelia E. Barr. Frontispiece by Harrison Fisher. - -A very beautiful romance of the Shetland Islands, with a handsome, -strong willed hero and a lovely girl of Gaelic blood as heroine. A -sequel to "Jan Vedder's Wife." - -JOHN WARD, PREACHER. By Margaret Deland. - -The first big success of this much loved American novelist. It is a -powerful portrayal of a young clergyman's attempt to win his beautiful -wife to his own narrow creed. - -THE TRAIL OF NINETY-EIGHT. By Robert W. Service. Illustrated by Maynard -Dixon. - -One of the best stories of "Vagabondia" ever written, and one of the -most accurate and picturesque of the stampede of gold seekers to the -Yukon. The love story embedded in the narrative is strikingly original. - - Ask for complete free list of G. & D. 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Watts. - -The story of an ambitious, backwoods Ohio boy who rose to prominence. -Everyday humor of American rustic life permeates the book. - -THE HIGH HAND. By Jacques Futrelle. Illustrated by Will Grefe. - -A splendid story of the political game, with a son of the soil on the -one side, and a "kid glove" politician on the other. A pretty girl, -interested in both men, is the chief figure. - -THE BACKWOODSMEN. By Charles G. D. Roberts. Illustrated. - -Realistic stories of men and women living midst the savage beauty of the -wilderness. Human nature at its best and worst is well portrayed. - -YELLOWSTONE NIGHTS. By Herbert Quick. - -A jolly company of six artists, writers and other clever folks take a -trip through the National Park, and tell stories around camp fire at -night. Brilliantly clever and original. - -THE PROFESSOR'S MYSTERY. By Wells Hastings and Brian Hooker. Illustrated -by Hanson Booth. - -A young college professor, missing his steamer for Europe, has a -romantic meeting with a pretty girl, escorts her home, and is enveloped -in a big mystery. - - Ask for complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction - Grosset & Dunlap, 526 West 26th St., New York - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - TITLES SELECTED FROM - GROSSET & DUNLAP'S LIST - - May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. - -THE SECOND WIFE. By Thompson Buchanan. Illustrated by W. W. Fawcett. -Harrison Fisher wrapper printed in four colors and gold. - -An intensely interesting story of a marital complication in a wealthy -New York family involving the happiness of a beautiful young girl. - -TESS OF THE STORM COUNTRY. By Grace Miller White. Illustrated by Howard -Chandler Christy. - -An amazingly vivid picture of low class life in a New York college town, -with a heroine beautiful and noble, who makes a great sacrifice for -love. - -FROM THE VALLEY OF THE MISSING. By Grace Miller White. Frontispiece and -wrapper in colors by Penrhyn Stanlaws. - -Another story of "the storm country." Two beautiful children are -kidnapped from a wealthy home and appear many years after showing the -effects of a deep, malicious scheme behind their disappearance. - -THE LIGHTED MATCH. By Charles Neville Buck. Illustrated by R. F. -Schabelitz. - -A lovely princess travels incognito through the States and falls in love -with an American man. There are ties that bind her to someone in her own -home, and the great plot revolves round her efforts to work her way out. - -MAUD BAXTER. By C. C. Hotchkiss. Illustrated by Will Grefe. - -A romance both daring and delightful, involving an American girl and a -young man who had been impressed into English service during the -Revolution. - -THE HIGHWAYMAN. By Guy Rawlence. Illustrated by Will Grefe. - -A French beauty of mysterious antecedents wins the love of an Englishman -of title. Developments of a startling character and a clever untangling -of affairs hold the reader's interest. - -THE PURPLE STOCKINGS. By Edward Salisbury Field. Illustrated in colors; -marginal illustrations. - -A young New York business man, his pretty sweetheart, his sentimental -stenographer, and his fashionable sister are all mixed up in a -misunderstanding that surpasses anything in the way of comedy in years. -A story with a laugh on every page. - - Ask for complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction - Grosset & Dunlap, 526 West 26th St., New York - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - The Master's Violin - By MYRTLE REED - -[Illustration: small image of book cover] - -A Love Story with a musical atmosphere. A picturesque, old German -virtuoso is the reverent possessor of a genuine Cremona. He consents to -take as his pupil a handsome youth who proves to have an aptitude for -technique, but not the soul of the artist. The youth has led the happy, -careless life of a modern, well-to-do young American, and he cannot, -with his meagre past, express the love, the longing, the passion and the -tragedies of life and its happy phases as can the master who has lived -life in all its fulness. But a girl comes into his existence, a -beautiful bit of human driftwood that his aunt had taken into her heart -and home; and through his passionate love for her, he learns the lessons -that life has to give--and his soul awakens. - -Founded on a fact well known among artists, but not often recognized or -discussed. - - --------------------- - -If you have not read "Lavender and Old Lace" by the same author, you -have a double pleasure in store--for these two books show Myrtle Reed in -her most delightful, fascinating vein--indeed they may be considered as -masterpieces of compelling interest. - - Ask for complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction - Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - The Prodigal Judge - By VAUGHAN KESTER - -This great novel--probably the most popular book in this country -to-day--is as human as a story from the pen of that great master of -"immortal laughter and immortal tears," Charles Dickens. - -The Prodigal Judge is a shabby outcast, a tavern hanger-on, a genial -wayfarer who tarries longest where the inn is most hospitable, yet with -that suavity, that distinctive politeness and that saving grace of humor -peculiar to the American man. He has his own code of morals--very -exalted ones--but honors them in the breach rather than in the -observance. - -Clinging to the Judge closer than a brother, is Solomon -Mahaffy--fallible and failing like the rest of us, but with a sublime -capacity for friendship; and closer still, perhaps, clings little -Hannibal, a boy about whose parentage nothing is known until the end of -the story. Hannibal is charmed into tolerance of the Judge's picturesque -vices, while Miss Betty, lovely and capricious, is charmed into placing -all her affairs, both material and sentimental, in the hands of this -delightful old vagabond. - -The Judge will be a fixed star in the firmament of fictional characters -as surely as David Harum or Col. Sellers. He is a source of infinite -delight, while this story of Mr. Kester's is one of the finest examples -of American literary craftmanship. - - Ask for complete free list of G. & D. 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He attains power in politics, and a young -woman of the exclusive set becomes his wife, undertaking his education -in social amenities. - -"DOC." GORDON. By Mary E. Wilkins-Freeman. Illustrated by Frank T. -Merrill. - -Against the familiar background of American town life, the author -portrays a group of people strangely involved in a mystery. "Doc." -Gordon, the one physician of the place, Dr. Elliot, his assistant, a -beautiful woman and her altogether charming daughter are all involved in -the plot. A novel of great interest. - -HOLY ORDERS. By Marie Corelli. - -A dramatic story, in which is pictured a clergyman in touch with society -people, stage favorites, simple village folk, powerful financiers and -others, each presenting vital problems to this man "in holy -orders"--problems that we are now struggling with in America. - -KATRINE. By Elinor Macartney Lane. With frontispiece. - -Katrine, the heroine of this story, is a lovely Irish girl, of lowly -birth, but gifted with a beautiful voice. - -The narrative is based on the facts of an actual singer's career, and -the viewpoint throughout is a most exalted one. - -THE FORTUNES OF FIFI. By Molly Elliot Seawell. Illustrated by T. de -Thulstrup. - -A story of life in France at the time of the first Napoleon. Fifi, a -glad, mad little actress of eighteen, is the star performer in a third -rate Parisian theatre. A story as dainty as a Watteau painting. - -SHE THAT HESITATES. By Harris Dickson. Illustrated by C. W. Relyea. - -The scene of this dashing romance shifts from Dresden to St. Petersburg -in the reign of Peter the Great, and then to New Orleans. - -The hero is a French Soldier of Fortune, and the princess, who -hesitates--but you must read the story to know how she that hesitates -may be lost and yet saved. - - Grosset & Dunlap, 526 West 26th St., New York - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - A FEW OF - GROSSET & DUNLAP'S - Great Books at Little Prices - -CY WHITTAKER'S PLACE. By Joseph C. Lincoln. Illustrated by Wallace -Morgan. - -A Cape Cod story describing the amusing efforts of an elderly bachelor -and his two cronies to rear and educate a little girl. Full of honest -fun--a rural drama. - -THE FORGE IN THE FOREST. By Charles G. D. Roberts. Illustrated by H. -Sandham. - -A story of the conflict in Acadia after its conquest by the British. A -dramatic picture that lives and shines with the indefinable charm of -poetic romance. - -A SISTER TO EVANGELINE. By Charles G. D. Roberts. Illustrated by E. -McConnell. - -Being the story of Yvonne de Lamourie, and how she went into exile with -the villagers of Grand Pre. Swift action, fresh atmosphere, wholesome -purity, deep passion and searching analysis characterize this strong -novel. - -THE OPENED SHUTTERS. By Clara Louise Burnham. Frontispiece by Harrison -Fisher. - -A summer haunt on an island in Casco Bay is the background for this -romance. A beautiful woman, at discord with life, is brought to realize, -by her new friends, that she may open the shutters of her soul to the -blessed sunlight of joy by casting aside vanity and self love. A -delicately humorous work with a lofty motive underlying it all. - -THE RIGHT PRINCESS. By Clara Louise Burnham. - -An amusing story, opening at a fashionable Long Island resort, where a -stately Englishwoman employs a forcible New England housekeeper to serve -in her interesting home. How types so widely apart react on each others' -lives, all to ultimate good, makes a story both humorous and rich in -sentiment. - -THE LEAVEN OF LOVE. By Clara Louise Burnham. Frontispiece by Harrison -Fisher. - -At a Southern California resort a world-weary woman, young and beautiful -but disillusioned, meets a girl who has learned the art of living--of -tasting life in all its richness, opulence and joy. The story hinges -upon the change wrought in the soul of the blase woman by this glimpse -into a cheery life. - - Grosset & Dunlap, 526 West 26th St., New York - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - B. M. Bower's Novels - Thrilling Western Romances - - Large 12 mos. Handsomely bound in cloth. Illustrated - -CHIP, OF THE FLYING U - -A breezy wholesome tale, wherein the love affairs of Chip and Delia -Whitman are charmingly and humorously told. Chip's jealousy of Dr. Cecil -Grantham, who turns out to be a big, blue eyed young woman is very -amusing. A clever, realistic story of the American Cow-puncher. - -THE HAPPY FAMILY - -A lively and amusing story, dealing with the adventures of eighteen -jovial, big hearted Montana cowboys. Foremost amongst them, we find -Ananias Green, known as Andy, whose imaginative powers cause many lively -and exciting adventures. - -HER PRAIRIE KNIGHT - -A realistic story of the plains, describing a gay party of Easterners -who exchange a cottage at Newport for the rough homeliness of a Montana -ranch-house. The merry-hearted cowboys, the fascinating Beatrice, and -the effusive Sir Redmond, become living, breathing personalities. - -THE RANGE DWELLERS - -Here are everyday, genuine cowboys, just as they really exist. Spirited -action, a range feud between two families, and a Romeo and Juliet -courtship make this a bright, jolly, entertaining story, without a dull -page. - -THE LURE OF DIM TRAILS - -A vivid portrayal of the experience of an Eastern author, among the -cowboys of the West, in search of "local color" for a new novel. "Bud" -Thurston learns many a lesson while following "the lure of the dim -trails" but the hardest, and probably the most welcome, is that of love. - -THE LONESOME TRAIL - -"Weary" Davidson leaves the ranch for Portland, where conventional city -life palls on him. A little branch of sage brush, pungent with the -atmosphere of the prairie, and the recollection of a pair of large brown -eyes soon compel his return. A wholesome love story. - -THE LONG SHADOW - -A vigorous Western story, sparkling with the free, outdoor, life of a -mountain ranch. Its scenes shift rapidly and its actors play the game of -life fearlessly and like men. 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