Chapter 15

NEMESIS

"Come up, Symonds; come up!" called Lloyd from the head of the stairs. The old colored cook, protesting under her breath at having to mount to the second story to announce visitors, had not waited to take a message to Symonds, but returned at once to her domain by way of the back stairs. Lloyd's voice was so imperative that Symonds took the steps two at a time, and arrived breathless at the top, to find Lloyd, booted and spurred, and covered from head to foot with a thick layer of mud, waiting impatiently for him.

"I have caught her, Symonds," he cried exultingly. "By God! I've caught her this time." Then, more calmly: "I have absolute proof here," tapping his chest, "that she is a rebel spy. Come in, and I will tell you about it." And half dragging Symonds into his sitting room, he slammed to the door. "It's been a long chase and a stern chase, but I have won at last." He dropped heavily into an armchair, and signed to Symonds to take the one opposite him.

"That is splendid!" said Symonds, with satisfaction. "I was afraid something had happened to you, Captain, and have just been over to the Bureau to find out if they had news of you. They told me they knew nothing of your whereabouts, so I stopped here to ask Major Goddard if he could tell me where you were."

"Was Colonel Baker at the Bureau?"

"No, sir; he is in Baltimore, but will be back to-night."

"What has Miss Newton been doing since her return to Washington?"

"Nothing of a suspicious character. I hear that she is going to Mrs. Arnold's ball to-night."

"Well, we will put an end to her masterly inactivity." Lloyd chuckled so vindictively that Symonds glanced at him in surprise.

"You seem to hate Miss Newton, Captain?"

"Hate? Well, perhaps that is too strong a word, Symonds, though I can be a good hater of those who have wronged me. Miss Newton's cleverness put me on my mettle. I cannot say I enjoyed being outwitted by a girl, but I could forgive her that. What has roused my dislike, my bitter dislike, is that she has turned Major Goddard against me. I can never forgive her for that. He has been my lifelong friend; now, he avoids me--and it cuts deep!" Lloyd spoke with intense feeling.

"How comes it, then, that you have the same rooms here?"

"Probably Major Goddard is planning to move to another boarding house; I have not seen him since my return. Mrs. Lane told me he had gone for a drive, accompanied by his attendant. I am glad he is out, for I do not relish telling him Miss Newton will be arrested to-night. I prefer to have him learn it from some one else."

"You say you have absolute proof of her guilt?" questioned Symonds.

"Absolute. She will not slip through my fingers this time. As I told you in Winchester, Symonds, I was convinced that Major Goddard, to shield Miss Newton, told a deliberate lie when he said he had been in that room over half an hour. I was sure she had seen and talked with that rebel spy; so I wasted no time making further inquiries at the house, but, with Colonel Young's permission, took Belden and started in pursuit of him.

"Belden knows that country like a book, and he guessed the route the rebel would take. We had two of the best horses in the cavalry, and, to cut a long story short, we headed him off, and forced him back toward our lines. His horse was almost spent when we came up with him. It was two to one. He died bravely. We found his name on an envelope, 'George Pegram, --th Virginia Cavalry,' and this paper." Lloyd unbuttoned his coat, and drew out a leather wallet. "Here it is--see"--he opened a small crumpled paper--"not only the cipher message verbatim, as received that afternoon in Winchester, but the key to our code. It is damning evidence, and it will hang her." He folded the paper, replaced it in his pocketbook, which he slipped back in his inside coat pocket; then resumed his story:

"We were returning to Winchester when we almost ran slam-bang into some of Mosby's guerillas. To avoid them, we had to go miles out of our way. Twice we were nearly captured by scouting parties of Early's forces; then some of Lomax' cavalry chased us still deeper inside the rebel lines. It took us four days to reach Snicker's Gap, and so on to Washington. Since I last saw you, I have been constantly in the saddle without rest and without sufficient food." Lloyd's face was drawn and haggard, and his eyes inflamed and heavy from lack of sleep. Seeing Symonds' look of concern, he added: "Mrs. Lane brought me up a cold lunch. I intended going at once to see Colonel Baker, but, as he is away, I will let you apply for the necessary papers to arrest her. I must get some sleep. I cannot stay awake another moment. Stay," as Symonds hastened to the hall door. "You meet Colonel Baker; tell him what I have told you, and have him arrest the girl. And send a messenger to me when she is taken to the provost marshal's, and I will join you there." He stretched himself and yawned. "Be sure and send for me, Symonds," he called, "for I shall sleep like the dead."

"All right, Captain; I will have you called."

Lloyd went thoughtfully back into his sitting room, stood for a moment undecided, then walked through the communicating door into the next room. The two single beds, bureaus, table and chairs but partially filled the bedroom, which was unusually large. There were two side windows, and two doors, one of which opened directly into the back hall, and the other into the sitting room.

Lloyd did not trouble to undress. He kicked off his muddy boots, and tossed them into a corner of the room; removed his coat and hung it on the back of a chair; then threw himself on the outside of one of the beds, drawing a quilt over him. His head had hardly touched the pillow before his regular breathing testified that he had fallen into the heavy slumber of utter exhaustion.

* * * * *

Mrs. Arnold's ball was in full swing when Nancy and her aunt arrived. Nancy did not look well, to Miss Metoaca's concern, who tersely advised her to pull herself together, or else stay at home. If she had followed the latter course, Miss Metoaca would have been bitterly disappointed, for she greatly enjoyed going to parties and watching Nancy's belleship.

Nancy much preferred staying quietly at home. Dull care dogged her footsteps; Goddard's pathetic face haunted her memory. Do what she could; go where she would, she could never banish from her mind his halting, passionate words spoken on that never-forgotten day in Winchester. After all, did she wish to?

Mrs. Arnold's spacious new house was filled with members of the cabinet and their wives; some of the foreign ministers and their secretaries, and Washington's residential circle, which consisted of about forty-five persons, all told, who religiously attended each other's parties, and occasionally went to the President's levees, and the entertainments of the diplomatic corps and the cabinet officers. A "social column" in the daily paper was never heard of; but, notwithstanding, each person knew when the other was giving a party or entertaining house guests. Occasionally a paragraph was slipped in the _National Intelligencer_, saying: "Miss H---- attended Mrs. R----'s reception," but even that was considered very bad form, though initials only were given.

Mrs. Arnold received Nancy and her aunt with some reserve. She did not want her nephew to marry Nancy, but still less, with true feminine inconsistency, did she want him to be jilted by such a chit of a girl. She also stood very much in awe of Miss Metoaca's ready wit and formidable tongue.

Nancy was immediately carried off by an impatient partner for the next dance, and Miss Metoaca was left chatting with Senator Warren and Lord Lyons, the British minister. Mrs. Arnold, flushed with her labors as hostess, stopped near them, and the Englishman turned at once and complimented her on the decorations of her ball-room.

"I am delighted you approve of my taste, your Excellency," she said complacently. "Have you seen our new oil painting which my husband has just purchased at Goupil's in New York?"

"No, I have not had that pleasure," replied the diplomat courteously.

"Then come with me. You, too, Miss Metoaca, and Senator Warren. I would very much like your opinion of the painting. It is called 'Jupiter and Ten.' What 'Ten' has to do with it is beyond me. There are not ten figures in the picture; nor did we pay ten dollars for it."

By that time they had reached the painting, a fine work by a famous artist. Underneath, on the brass name plate, were the words: "JUPITER AND IO."

"The technique is fine," murmured Lord Lyons feebly, adjusting his monocle. Whereat Mrs. Arnold beamed with delight.

"It is indeed an excellent painting," exclaimed Miss Metoaca, her eyes twinkling. "You are to be congratulated, Mrs. Arnold. I must go and find Nancy, as I want to introduce her to Mrs. Scott, the wife of the new member from Pennsylvania."

"Let me escort you, Miss Metoaca," said the Senator gallantly.

Nancy was not hard to find, and, after she had met Mrs. Scott, Senator Warren asked her to sit out a dance with him.

"If I can escape my next partner, I will do so with pleasure."

"Suppose we sit in that alcove by the palms, he will never find us there," suggested the senator, and he led the way to the sofa, which was partially concealed from view, only to find Mrs. Bennett comfortably installed on one end of it.

"There is plenty of room for all," she declared, as Nancy drew back. "Colonel Bennett has gone with Mr. Arnold, and, being partnerless, I came over here to enjoy watching the dancers. Where is Mrs. Warren this evening, Senator?"

"Sick in bed with a bad headache," returned Warren, sitting down between the two women. "I would not have come to-night, but she insisted it would not be neighborly to back out at the last moment."

"So, like an obedient American husband, you sacrificed yourself," laughed Nancy, her small foot keeping time to the dreamy strains of the waltz, "Brightest Eyes."

"I am managing to have a very comfortable time," retorted the Senator. He ceased speaking as a man in uniform stepped to Nancy's side and touched her on the shoulder.

"Miss Newton, you are to come with me."

Nancy turned quickly, and her face whitened. The sword of Damocles had fallen.

"What do you mean, Baker?" demanded Warren sharply.

"That Miss Newton is under arrest, Mr. Senator. I advise the young lady to come quietly."

Nancy rose. "I shall make no scene," she said haughtily. "Go on, sir, and I will follow."

"I prefer that you should go first," said Baker quickly.

"One moment," interrupted Warren. "Where are you taking Miss Newton?" Baker hesitated. "I insist on an answer."

Senator Warren was a power on Capitol Hill, and the Secret Service officer did not care to offend him.

"She is to be taken to the War Department. Secretary Stanton wishes to interview her," he answered at last.

"My dear! My dear!" ejaculated Mrs. Bennett, who had sat speechless with surprise. "This is too dreadful. Can I not accompany you? or my husband? We know the secretary well, and will use our influence to secure your immediate release."

"Miss Newton goes with me _alone_," interposed Baker harshly. "I will allow no outside interference." And he looked significantly at Mrs. Bennett.

"Many thanks, Mrs. Bennett." The older woman colored hotly under her scrutiny, and Nancy's suspicions were instantly aroused. Had she and Lloyd planned her arrest? "I will not trouble you, however, to exert your influence in my behalf, because I am convinced I shall be set free the moment I have talked this affair over with Secretary Stanton. Senator Warren, will you take Aunt Metoaca home, and explain to her about this ridiculous arrest."

"I will, and will join you afterward at the War Department. There is undoubtedly some explanation, and, as your friend, I will investigate the matter at once."

Nancy impulsively extended her hand; she could not voice her thanks. It was some seconds before she regained her self-control; then she addressed Baker. "Now, Colonel, I am ready to go with you." She turned disdainfully, and walked proudly across the room, spoke to Mrs. Arnold, then went directly into the hall. "May I go for my wrap?" she asked the Secret Service officer, who followed at her heels.

"No, send the maid for it," was the surly reply.

It did not take the colored girl long to find the wrap, and, escorted by Baker, Nancy ran down the steps and entered the waiting hack. They drove in absolute silence, Nancy gazing straight before her with brooding eyes. Never had he escorted so quiet a prisoner, and Baker was glad when they reached the War Department. He wasted no time, but took her at once to the private office of the Secretary of War.

"Here is Miss Newton, Mr. Secretary," he announced, signing to Nancy to enter the room first.

"To what do I owe my arrest, Secretary Stanton?" asked Nancy, walking quietly up to his desk.

Stanton glanced piercingly at her. Her proud, cold beauty and distinguished appearance stirred a momentary feeling of admiration in the "Iron Secretary's" breast. He half rose, then sank again into his chair.

"Be seated," he directed shortly. "Baker, close that door." He took off his spectacles, wiped them carefully, then replaced them am his nose. "You asked me?"

"Why I am arrested?" steadily.

"Isn't that an unnecessary question?"

"No. I am not a mind reader."

"You need not strain your imagination. Do you know Major George Pegram, of the --th Virginia Cavalry?"

"I do. He is my cousin."

"He _was_." Stanton stopped and eyed Nancy intently; but she sat as if carved from stone. Not by cry or sign did she betray the shock his words gave her. "Major Pegram was killed last Wednesday, when trying to get through our lines about Winchester."

"Poor fellow!" Nancy's tone was keyed to express simply natural sorrow and regret. "I am sure his death became him."

Stanton looked baffled, as his bomb shell exploded without apparent effect. Was there no vulnerable spot in her armor of iron self-control? After a moment he continued his examination.

"Your cousin was killed by Captain Lloyd, of the Secret Service, who took from his dead body the cipher despatch which you secured under the noses of a room full of my officers at Winchester." He paused to let the meaning of his words sink in.

Nancy thought for a second; then shook her head. "I fail to recall any such incident."

"You have a poor memory," retorted Stanton. "Possibly it will be improved when I show you the despatch in your handwriting."

Nancy's face never altered. "May I see the despatch?"

The Secretary paid no attention to her question. "There is no use denying it any longer, Miss Newton. I know you are a rebel spy."

"Indeed. And may I ask on what grounds you base so serious a charge?"

"No, madam, you may not. That will come out at your trial. I had you brought here that I might find out how you secured the key to our secret cipher code."

Nancy started to reply, when the door opened, and the President, followed by Senator Warren, walked quietly in.

"Good evening, Miss Nancy." The President bowed gravely to her. "Keep your seat. Now, Stanton, what's all this about?" And he threw himself into a vacant chair.

The Secretary, surprised by Lincoln's entrance, pulled himself together. He was not pleased by the interruption.

"I was examining Miss Newton, Mr. President, as to how she gained possession of the key to our cipher code. Pardon me if I suggest that it would be better to conduct the interview in private." And he glanced significantly at Warren.

"What do you mean by that insinuation, Mr. Secretary?" demanded Warren hotly.

"Now, now," interposed the President patiently. "Nobody has insinuated anything, Warren. It is perfectly proper that the senator be present, Stanton. You forget he is a member of the Military Commission in Congress."

"And I am also here as Miss Newton's legal representative," added Warren warmly, still ruffled by Stanton's manner.

Nancy shot him a grateful glance, but Stanton frowned. He did not like the turn things were taking.

"What is Miss Nancy accused of?" inquired Lincoln.

"Of being a rebel spy."

Lincoln's face grew grave. He inspected Nancy keenly, as his mind flew back to the scene before the deserted house on B Street. It might be.... "And what have you to say to that accusation, Miss Nancy?" he asked sternly.

"I deny it."

"The girl lies," declared Stanton.

Nancy's eyes flashed her indignation, and she turned squarely and faced the Secretary.

"The honorable Secretary," she said, with biting scorn, "has three times announced that I am a rebel spy. Is it not time that he produce evidence to prove that _he_ is not lying."

Stanton turned purple with suppressed wrath. To be bearded by a slip of a girl, and before the President! "Blustering will not help your cause," he snarled.

"You have made a serious charge," interrupted Lincoln thoughtfully. "I agree with Miss Nancy, Stanton, that it is time you produce your evidence against her."

The Secretary wheeled on Baker. "Where is Captain Lloyd?"

Lincoln, who was covertly studying Nancy, saw her move ever so slightly and her eyes dilate.

"I sent word to him that I was bringing Miss Newton to see you, instead of taking her to the provost marshal, and to join us here. I think this is he coming now," as the sound of hurrying footsteps sounded outside in the corridor. Baker stepped to the door, and pulled it open. "Come in, Lloyd."

But the man who entered was not Lloyd. He breathed heavily, as if spent with running, and, despite the cold winter night, beads of perspiration trickled down his face.

"Symonds!" exclaimed Baker. "Did you go for Captain Lloyd, as I ordered?"

Symonds nodded, gazing past Baker with frightened eyes at Nancy.

"Then, why didn't he return here with you?"

"Because"--Symonds took a long breath--"because--he's dead!"