Chapter 20

THE TURNING POINT

Doctor Ward's fears for his patient's condition were well founded. The shock of his interview with Baker in his weakened condition brought on an attack of brain fever, and for days Goddard's life hung in the balance. An experienced Sister of Mercy replaced the young nurse from the United States Sanitary Commission; and at Doctor Ward's earnest request the provost marshal stationed a sentry at Goddard's door with orders to admit no one to the sick room except by the doctor's express permission. Anxious days followed, the doctor and the nurse grimly contesting each step of the way as Goddard sank nearer and nearer the Valley of the Shadow.

Ward bent over the bed, and anxiously scanned Goddard's bloodless face; then rose and tiptoed softly about the room. He was weary from his long vigil by the bedside; it was a relief to stretch his cramped limbs while he waited for the crisis to pass.

"Have you heard anything more about the arrangements for Miss Newton's trial?" asked Sister Angelica softly.

"No, except that the hearing has been again postponed."

"I cannot believe the charges against Miss Newton," murmured the sister. "I have seen her frequently at the hospitals when she came to read to the convalescents and bring them pickles."

"Pickles?"

"Yes, sir. The soldiers prefer them to many luxuries. I have seen Miss Newton do many kind and generous acts. It is incredible that she should have planned and carried out so deliberate and cold-blooded a murder."

"Judge Holt asked me to-day--" The doctor's hurried whisper was interrupted by a sound from the bed, and he hurried to his patient.

Goddard lay on his back, gazing with unseeing eyes at the ceiling, one thin arm tossed across the pillow. "Nancy," he whispered; "Nancy!"

"He is always calling her name," murmured Sister Angelica. "Poor fellow--poor girl!"

"Aye," muttered Ward under his breath. "God help them both--one here and one in prison!"

"Nancy." Goddard's weak voice seemed to gain in strength. "Don't cry, dear. I am coming." A feeble smile lighted his face; he turned slightly, his eyes closed, and, with a sigh like a tired child, he slept.

Ward's hand sought Goddard's pulse. He touched the white cheek. The skin was cool and moist. Turning to the nurse, his eyes dancing with delight, he whispered: "The fever is broken. At last Major Goddard is sleeping naturally."

Sister Angelica's fervid "Thank God!" was lost in the folds of the sash curtain as she pulled up the shade and let the daylight enter the sick room.

* * * * *

The days passed on leaden feet for Nancy. The suspense and close confinement told even on her splendid constitution, and she grew but a shadow of her former self. The prison food was not inviting; only when pangs of hunger forced her could she swallow the unappetizing half-cooked meats and sour bread which were brought to her on a tin plate by a slatternly negress.

Occasionally the superintendent sent her word of Robert Goddard's condition, but that was all she heard from the outside world. The negress, who tidied her room and brought her meals, had received orders not to speak to the prisoner, and the soldiers on guard at the prison were, with few exceptions, Germans, who did not understand or speak much English. Sometimes Nancy actually ached to hear the sound of friendly voices. The only break in the daily monotony was the nine-o'clock inspection of prisoners, which occurred each morning, as well as at night. Nancy spent most of her days standing near the window and gazing with wistful eyes at the other prisoners, who were allowed fresh-air exercise in the courtyard under the watchful eyes of the sentries.

The horrors of the long, sleepless nights were added to by the presence of rats, who scampered noisily back and forth across the bare floor. Nancy had discovered one on her bed the second night of her imprisonment, and her screams brought the guard on the double quick.

"Vat ess de drouble?" he demanded, dashing open the door. He leveled his Springfield full at the girl, and she heard the click of the hammer. Another soldier came in, carrying a lantern, and Nancy, huddled in one corner of her cot, hastily drew the bedclothes about her.

"Rats. Look!" And she pointed to a gray body disappearing down a hole in one of the corners of the room.

"Ah, Himmel! Dey ess all ober," remarked the guard stolidly, as he lowered his rifle. "Dere ess no use to holler. We can do nuddings."

"Do you mean to say I have to lie here while those vile creatures run over me?" exclaimed Nancy wrathfully.

"Ya."

"Go tell Superintendent Wood I wish to see him at once," imperiously.

"Nein," both soldiers spoke at once.

"And you call yourselves men!" ejaculated Nancy scornfully.

"We fight mit Siegel for de Union," retorted the sentry, retreating to the hall, "and not mit rats." He shut the door and shot the bolt in place. Nancy was once again in solitary confinement.

* * * * *

To Miss Metoaca and Senator Warren the days fled by all too quickly. Try as they did, they could find no evidence, no clue that would benefit Nancy, or prove another guilty of the crime she was charged with. Secretary Stanton was deaf to all appeals that Nancy's captivity be lightened, and that her aunt be permitted to see her.

"Treason must be, shall be, punished," he declared. "Miss Newton will be given an opportunity to clear herself of the charges against her before a military commission. Until then she must remain in solitary confinement."

Miss Metoaca refused to be cast down by her rebuffs, and doggedly persisted in her efforts to obtain Nancy's freedom. She took no part in the city's mad rejoicing over the fall of Richmond; she was too sick at heart over her niece's threatened fate.

On the afternoon of the eighth of April she was taking off her wraps in her own room in a thoroughly discouraged frame of mind. She had just called on Doctor Ward, who had courteously but firmly refused to allow her to see Goddard.

"What is it, Jonas?" she demanded crossly, in answer to a timid knock on her door.

"Mrs. Arnold an' Mrs. Bennett am down in de pawler, Miss Turkey." No negro had ever been able to pronounce Miss Metoaca's name, and she had been accustomed from childhood to being called "Miss Turkey" by her domestics. "Dey done seed yo' come home, an' I'se jes' 'bliged ter show dem in."

Miss Metoaca considered for a moment. Nancy had confided her suspicions in regard to Mrs. Bennett to her aunt in February. Should she receive her now? She had called repeatedly since Nancy's arrest, but Miss Metoaca had always excused herself. This time she was inside the house, perhaps already spying around. Miss Metoaca came to a sudden resolution. "Tell the ladies I will be right down," she called to the waiting servant, and, true to her words, she joined them without further loss of time.

"My dear Miss Metoaca," began Mrs. Arnold pompously, but the look in the spinster's red eyes went straight to her heart, and she threw her arms impulsively about her in a warm embrace without completing her sentence.

"It is good of you to come," said Miss Metoaca, touched by Mrs. Arnold's greeting. "I--I--was feeling very downhearted."

"And no wonder," purred Mrs. Bennett, wiping her eyes with a dainty handkerchief. "You have borne a great deal, Miss Metoaca, and have our deepest sympathy."

"You crocodile," thought the spinster, as she said aloud: "It is cruel, cruel! Nancy never committed that crime, _never_."

Mrs. Arnold and her friend exchanged doubtful glances.

"Have you been allowed to see your niece?" inquired the latter, as Mrs. Arnold seemed at a loss for words.

"No; and I am convinced the food and clothes I send her never get past the inspector's office."

"Have you appealed to the President?"

"Have I?" Miss Metoaca's tone was eloquent. "I have tormented that poor man nearly to death."

"Did he give you no comfort?" asked Mrs. Arnold. "Usually President Lincoln is only too anxious to sign pardons."

"He doesn't seem to be in this instance," dryly. "He insists that an open trial will be the best thing for Nancy. 'Murder is evil,' he said; 'evil cannot stand discussion. The more the mystery is discussed the quicker you will discover clues leading to the murderer. What kills the skunk is the publicity it gives itself. What a skunk wants to do is to keep snug under the barn--in the daytime--when men are around with shotguns.'"

"Is Sam working for you now?" inquired Mrs. Arnold, after a slight pause.

"Sam!" echoed Miss Metoaca, her surprise causing her to raise her voice.

Seeing Mrs. Arnold was flurried by the apparent effect of her innocent remark on Miss Metoaca, Mrs. Bennett answered for her.

"My husband and I met Nancy conversing with the negro Sam, about six o'clock on the afternoon that Captain Lloyd--ah--died." Miss Metoaca was intently studying the speaker's face, but she could learn nothing from the innocent blue eyes raised so confidingly to hers. "Nancy told us then that Sam, who has often waited on me, was anxious to secure a place in a private family...."

"And so," broke in Mrs. Arnold, "as I am in need of another man-servant, I came to inquire about Sam."

"Now that is too bad," exclaimed Miss Metoaca, rallying her wits to her aid. "I wish I had known before that you needed a servant, Mrs. Arnold. Sam came to me and asked me to find him a place, so I sent him over to my cousin, Mrs. Hillen, in Baltimore, as she wanted a good butler." Her tranquil manner effectually covered a rapidly beating heart. How much did Mrs. Bennett know about Sam, and where had she gained her information?

"Great heavens! What is that?" exclaimed Mrs. Bennett, startled out of her usual calm as a long-drawn howl came from the back of the house.

"It's Misery. Poor dog! He is grieving his heart out for Nancy. I suspect Jonas has forgotten and shut him in the pantry." Miss Metoaca made a motion to rise.

"Sit still, dear." Mrs. Bennett detained her by a gesture. "I will go and release Misery." And before the perturbed spinster could stop her she had tripped gracefully out of the room.

"Here is Senator Warren," remarked Mrs. Arnold, catching sight of him through the window as he came up the steps; and Miss Metoaca, all else forgotten, hastened to the front door.

As Warren greeted her, the shrill voices of newsboys shouting "Extra!" "Extra!" sounded down the street, and, with a muttered word of apology, he waited on the steps until a newsboy saw his beckoning hand and rushed up with the paper. Miss Metoaca and Mrs. Arnold, who had joined her, read the flaring headlines over Warren's shoulder:

STIRRING NEWS FROM THE FRONT! LEE OVERWHELMED! GRANT CRUSHING HIM ON THE EAST!! SHERIDAN ON THE WEST!!!

Warren raised his hat reverently. "The end is in sight! Thank God! Thank God!"

"Oh, I _do_ thank God! This cruel war!" Miss Metoaca choked, and turned to Mrs. Arnold, who was weeping softly. "Let us go inside." And she led the way into the hall, where Warren detained her.

"I only came to tell you that the military commission meets day after to-morrow, the tenth, to try Nancy."

Miss Metoaca drew a long breath. "Anything is better than this suspense."

Warren nodded understandingly. "I am to see Nancy to-morrow. The judge advocate has furnished me with a copy of the charges. Did Ward allow you to talk with Goddard?"

"No."

"How strange!" exclaimed Mrs. Bennett, who had rejoined them, dropping the extra which she and Mrs. Arnold were busy reading. "I hear the major is almost well again. Do you know," warming to the subject, "I consider Doctor Ward is acting very mysteriously in regard to Major Goddard's condition."

"Indeed? In what way, Mrs. Bennett?" Warren pricked up his ears.

"By his persistent refusals to let anyone into Major Goddard's sick room. And I am not the only one who thinks so." She paused impressively, then went on: "Colonel Baker told me that he was convinced the last time he talked with Major Goddard that he had regained his sight."

"Is that so?" Warren looked his disbelief. "I will inquire into it. Good night, Miss Metoaca; I must be running along."

"And we have to go, too," declared Mrs. Arnold. "Don't be discouraged, dear Miss Metoaca." And she gave the spinster an encouraging pat on her shoulder.

"Don't allow your mind to dwell too much on your worries," advised Mrs. Bennett soothingly, as she followed the senator down the steps.

Miss Metoaca nodded a smiling farewell, but when the door was safely shut the smile faded, and instead her face looked pinched and drawn. Deep in thought she hastened to the morning room, which was back of the dining room, and sat down at her desk to scribble a line to her cousin, Mrs. Hillen.

To a casual eye the desk was as she had left it two hours before. But Miss Metoaca had a well-developed bump of order, the terror of her servants, and nothing escaped her eagle eye. One glance showed her the desk ornaments had been moved. Dropping her pen, Miss Metoaca opened several of the drawers. One look was enough to show her that their contents had been disturbed. Every paper was tossed and tumbled.

Feverishly Miss Metoaca went through the remaining drawers. Apparently nothing had been removed. Just as she was drawing a long breath of relief, her hand touched a note book concealed under a mass of papers at the back of the bottom drawer. Pulling it out, Miss Metoaca found that the book was one used by Nancy to keep the marketing accounts and other memoranda. She turned the pages hastily--five sheets had been torn out! The book fell unheeded on the floor, as Miss Metoaca bowed her head in her trembling hands.