CHAPTER XI
MR. SEFTON MAKES A CONFIDENCE
Prescott now resolved, whatever happened, to make another attempt at theescape of Lucia Catherwood. Threats of danger, unspoken, perhaps, but tohis mind not the less formidable, were multiplying, and he did notintend that they should culminate in disaster. The figure of that woman,so helpless and apparently the sole target at this moment of a powerfulGovernment, made an irresistible appeal to him.
But there were moments of doubt, when he asked himself if he were nottricked by the fancy, or rather by a clever and elusive woman--ascunning as she was elusive--who led him, and who looked to the end andnot to the means. He saw something repellent in the act of being a spy,above all when it was a woman who took the part. His open naturerejected such a trade, even if it were confined to the deed of a momentdone under impulse. She had assured him that she was innocent, and therewas a look of truth in her face when she said it; but to say it and tolook it was in the business of being a spy, and why should she differfrom others?
But these moments were brief; they would come to his mind and yet hismind in turn would cast them out. He remembered her eyes, the swell ofher figure, her noble curves. She was not of the material that wouldturn to so low a trade, he said to himself over and over again.
He was still thinking of a plan to save her and trying to find a waywhen a message arrived directing him to report at once to the Secretaryof War. He surmised that he would receive instructions to rejoin GeneralLee as soon as possible, and he felt a keen regret that he should nothave time to do the thing he wished most to do; but he lost no time inobeying the order.
The Secretary of War was in his office, sitting in a chair near thewindow, and farther away slightly in the shadow was another figure, moreslender but stronger. Prescott recognized again, with that sudden andinvoluntary feeling of fear, the power of the man. It was Mr. Sefton,his face hidden in the shadows, and therefore wholly unread. But asusual the inflexibility of purpose, the hardening of resolve followedPrescott's emotion, and his figure stiffened as he stood at attention toreceive the commands of the mighty--that is, the Secretary of War of theConfederate States of America.
But the Secretary of War was not harsh or fierce; instead, he politelyinvited the young Captain to a chair and spoke to him in complimentaryterms, referring to his gallant services on many battlefields, anddeclaring them not unknown to those who held the strings of power. Mr.Sefton, from the security of the shadows, merely nodded to their guest,and Prescott returned the welcome in like fashion, every nerve attunedfor what he expected to prove an ordeal.
"Many officers are brave," began the Secretary of War, "and it is notthe highest compliment when we call you such, Captain Prescott. Indeed,we mean to speak much better of you when we say that you have bravery,allied with coolness and intelligence. When we find these in one personwe have the ideal officer."
Prescott could not do less than bow to this flattery, but he wonderedwhat such a curious prelude foreshadowed. "It means no good to me," hethought, "or he would not begin with such praise." But he said aloud:
"I am sure I have some zealous friend to thank for commendation so muchbeyond my desert."
"It is not beyond your desert, but you have a friend to thanknevertheless," replied the Secretary of War. "A friend, too, whom no manneed despise. I allude to Mr. Sefton here, one of the ablest members ofthe Government, one who surpasses most of us in insight and pertinacity.It is he who, because of his friendship for you and faith in you,wishes to have you chosen for an important and delicate service whichmay lead to promotion."
Prescott stared at this man whose words rang so hollow in his ear, buthe could see no sign of guile or satire on the face of the Secretary ofWar. On the contrary, it bore every appearance of earnestness, and hebecame convinced that the appearance was just. Then he cast one swiftglance at the inscrutable Mr. Sefton, who still sat in the shadow anddid not move.
"I thank you for your kind words," he said to the Secretary of War, "andI shall appreciate very much the honour, of which you give me anintimation."
The great man smiled. It is pleasant to us all to confer benefits andstill pleasanter to know that they are appreciated.
"It is a bit of work in the nature of secret service, Captain Prescott,"he continued, "and it demands a wary eye and a discerning mind."
Prescott shuddered with repulsion. Instinctively he foresaw what wascoming, and there was no task which he would not have preferred in itsplace. And he was expected, too, at such a moment, to look grateful.
"You will recall the episode of the spy and the abstraction of thepapers from the President's office," continued the Secretary of War inorotund and complaisant tones. "It may seem to the public that we havedropped this matter, which is just what we wish the public to think, asit may lull the suspicions of the suspected. But we are more resolvedthan ever to secure the guilty!"
Prescott glanced again at Mr. Sefton, but he still sat in the shadow,and Prescott believed that he had not yet moved either hand or foot inthe whole interview.
"To be brief, Captain Prescott," resumed the Secretary of War, "we wishyou to take charge of this service which, I repeat, we consider delicateand important."
"Now?" asked Prescott.
"No, not immediately--in two or three days, perhaps; we shall notifyyou. We are convinced the guilty are yet in Richmond and cannot escape.It is important that we capture them, as we may unearth a nest ofconspirators. I trust that you see the necessity of our action."
Prescott bowed, though he was raging inwardly, and it was in his mind todecline abruptly such a service, but second thought told him a refusalmight make a bad matter worse. He would have given much, too, to see theface of Mr. Sefton--his fancy painted there a smile of irony.
As the Secretary of War seemed to have said all that he intended,Prescott turned to go, but he added a word of thanks to Mr. Sefton,whose voice he wished to hear. Mr. Sefton merely nodded, and the youngCaptain, as he went out, hesitated on the doorstep as if he expected tohear sardonic laughter behind him. He heard nothing.
The fierce touch of the winter outside cooled his blood, and as hewalked toward his home he tried to think of a way out of the difficulty.He kept repeating to himself the words of the Secretary of War: "In twoor three days we shall send for you," and from this constant repetitionan idea was born in his head. "Much may be done in two or three days,"he said to himself, "and if a man can do it I will!" and he said it witha sense of defiance.
His brain grew hot with the thought, and he walked about the city, notwishing yet to return to his home. He had been walking, he knew not howlong, when a hand fell lightly upon his arm and, turning, he beheld thebland face of Mr. Sefton.
"May I walk a little with you, Captain Prescott?" he said. "Two headsare sometimes better than one."
Prescott was hot alike with his idea and with wrath over his recentordeal; moreover, he hated secret and underhand parts, and spokeimpulsively:
"Mr. Secretary, I have you to thank for this task, and I do not thankyou at all!"
"Why not? Most young officers wish a chance for promotion."
"But you set me spying to catch a spy! There are few things in the worldthat I would rather not do."
"You say 'you set me spying'! My dear sir, it was the Secretary of War,not I."
"Mr. Sefton," exclaimed Prescott angrily, "why should we fence withwords any longer? It is you and you alone who are at the bottom ofthis!"
"Since that is your theory, my dear Captain, what motive would youassign?"
Prescott was slow to wrath, but when moved at last he had little fear ofconsequences, and it was so with him now. He faced the Secretary andgazed at him steadily, even inquiringly. But, as usual, he read nothingin the bland, unspeaking countenance before him.
"There is a motive, an ulterior motive," he replied. "For days now youhave been persecuting me and I am convinced that it is for a purpose."
"And if so ready to read an unspoken purpose in my mind, the
n why notread the cause of it?"
Prescott hesitated. This calm, expressionless man with the impression ofpower troubled him. The Secretary again put his hand lightly upon hisarm.
"We are near the outskirts of the city, Captain," said Mr. Sefton, "andI suggest that we walk on toward the fortifications in order that nonemay overhear what we have to say. It may be that you and I shall arriveat such an understanding that we can remain friends."
There was suggestion in the Secretary's words for the first time,likewise a command, and Prescott willingly adopted his plan. Togetherthe two strolled on through the fields.
"I have a tale to tell," began the Secretary, "and there arepreliminaries and exordiums, but first of all there is a question.Frankly, Captain Prescott, what kind of a man do you think I am?"
Prescott hesitated.
"I see you do not wish to speak," continued the Secretary, "because theportrait you would paint is unflattering, but I will paint it foryou--at least, the one that you have in your mind's eye. You think mesly and intriguing, eaten up by ambition, and caring for nobody in theworld but myself. A true portrait, perhaps, so far as the externalphases go, and the light in which I often wish to appear to the world,but not true in reality."
Prescott waited in silence to hear what the other might have to say, andwhatever it was he was sure that it would be of interest.
"That I am ambitious is true," continued the Secretary; "there are fewmen not old who are not so, and I think it better to have ambition thanto be without it. But if I have ambition I also have other qualities. Ilike my friends--I like you and would continue to like you, CaptainPrescott, if you would let me. It is said here that I am not a trueSoutherner, whatever may be my birth, as my coldness, craft andforesight are not Southern characteristics. That may be true, but atleast I am Southern in another character--I have strong, even violentemotions, and I love a woman. I am willing to sacrifice much for her."
The Secretary's hand was still resting lightly on Prescott's arm, andthe young Captain, feeling it tremble, knew that his companion told thetruth.
"Yes," resumed Mr. Sefton, "I love a woman, and with all the greaterfire because I am naturally undemonstrative and self-centred. The streamcomes with an increased rush when it has to break through the ice. Ilove a woman, I say, and I am determined to have her. You know well whoit is!"
"Helen Harley," said Prescott.
"I love Helen Harley," continued the Secretary, "and there are two menof whom I am jealous, but I shall speak first of one--the one whom Ihave feared the longer and the more. He is a soldier, a young mancommended often by his superiors for gallantry and skill--deservedly so,too--I do not seek to deny it. He is here in Richmond now, and he hasknown Helen Harley all his life. They were boy and girl together. But hehas become mixed in an intrigue here. There is another woman----"
"Mr. Sefton! You proposed that we understand each other, and that isjust what I wish, too. You have been watching me all this time."
"Watching you! Yes, I have, and to purpose!" exclaimed the Secretary."You have done few things in Richmond that have not come to myknowledge. Again I ask you what kind of a man do you think I am? When Isaw you standing in my path I resolved that no act of yours shouldescape me. You know of this spy, Lucia Catherwood, and you know whereshe is. You see, I have even her name. Once I intended to arrest her andexpose you to disgrace, but she had gone. I am glad now that we did notfind her. I have a better use for her uncaught, though it annoys me thatI cannot yet discover where she was when we searched that house."
The cold chill which he had felt before in the presence of this manassailed Prescott again. He was wholly within his power, andmetaphorically, he could be broken on the wheel if the adroit andruthless Secretary wished it. He bit his dry lip, but said nothing,still waiting for the other.
"I repeat that I have a better use for Miss Catherwood," continued Mr.Sefton. "Do you think I should have gone to all this trouble and touchedupon so many springs merely to capture one misguided girl? What harm canshe do us? Do you think the result of a great war and the fate of acontinent are to be decided by a pair of dark eyes?"
They were walking now along a half-made street that led into the fields.Behind them lay the city, and before them the hills and the forest, allin a robe of white. Thin columns of smoke rose from the earthworks,where the defenders hovered over the fires, but no one was near enoughto hear what the two men said.
"Then why have you held your hand?" asked Prescott.
"Why?" and the Secretary actually laughed, a smooth, noiseless laugh,but a laugh nevertheless, though so full of a snaky cunning thatPrescott started as if he had been bitten. "Why, because I wished you,Robert Prescott, whom I feared, to become so entangled that you wouldbe helpless in my hands, and that you have done. If I wish I can haveyou dismissed from the army in disgrace--shot, perhaps, as a traitor. Inany event, your future lies in the hollow of my hand. You are wholly atmy mercy. I speak a word and you are ruined."
"Why not speak it?" Prescott asked calmly. His first impulse had passed,and though his tongue was dry in his mouth the old hardening resolve tofight to the last came again.
"Why not speak it? Because I do not wish to do so--at least, not yet.Why should I ruin you? I do not dislike you; on the contrary, I likeyou, as I have told you. So, I shall wait."
"What then?"
"Then I shall demand a price. I am not in this world merely to passthrough it mechanically, like a clock wound up for a certain time. No; Iwant things and I intend to have them. I plan for them and I makesacrifices to get them. My one desire most of all is Helen Harley, butyou are in the way. Stand out of it--withdraw--and no word of mine shallever tell what I know. So far as I am concerned there shall be no LuciaCatherwood. I will do more: I will smooth her way from Richmond for her.Now, like a wise man, pay this price, Captain Prescott. It should not behard for you."
He spoke the last words in a tone half insinuating, half ironical.Prescott flushed a deep red. He did love Helen Harley; he had alwaysloved her. He had not been away from her so much recently because of anydecrease in that love; it was his misfortune--the pressure of uglyaffairs that compelled him. Was the love he bore her to be thrown asidefor a price? A price like that was too high to pay for anything.
"Mr. Secretary," he replied icily, "they say that you are not of theSouth in some of your characteristics, and I think you are not. Do yousuppose that I would accept such a proposition? I could not dream of it.I should despise myself forever if I were to do such a thing."
He stopped and faced the Secretary angrily, but he saw no reflection ofhis own wrath in the other's face; on the contrary, he had never beforeseen him look so despondent. There was plenty of expression now on hiscountenance as he moodily kicked a lump of snow out of his way. Then Mr.Sefton said:
"Do you know in my heart I expected you to make that answer. You wouldnever have put such an alternative to a rival, but I--I am different. AmI responsible? No; you and I are the product of different soils and welook at things in a different way. You do not know my history. Few dohere in Richmond--perhaps none; but you shall know, and then you willunderstand."
Prescott saw that this man, who a moment ago was threatening him, wasdeeply moved, and he waited in wonder.
"You have never known what it is," resumed the Secretary, speaking inshort, choppy tones so unlike his usual manner that the voice might havebelonged to another man, "to belong to the lowest class of our people--aclass so low that even the negro slaves sneered at and despised it; tobe born to a dirt floor, and a rotten board roof and four log walls! Agoodly heritage, is it not? Was not Providence kind to me? And is it nota just and kind Providence?"
He laughed with concentrated bitterness, and a feeling of pity for thisman whom he had been dreading so much stole over Prescott.
"We talk of freedom and equality here in the South," continued theSecretary, "and we say we are fighting for it; but not in England itselfis class feeling stronger, and that is what we are fighting toperpetua
te. I say that you have no such childhood as mine to look backto--the squalour, the ignorance, the sin, the misery, and above all theknowledge that you have a brain in your head and the equal knowledgethat you are forbidden to use it--that places and honours are not foryou!"
Again he fiercely kicked a clump of snow from his path and gazedabsently across the fields toward the wintry horizon, his face full ofpassionate protestation. Prescott was still silent, his own positionforgotten now in the interest aroused by this sudden outburst.
"If you are born a clod it is best to be a clod," continued theSecretary, "but that I was not. As I said, I have a brain in my head,and eyes to see. From the first I despised the squalour and the miseryaround me, and resolved to rise above it despite all the barriers of aslave-holding aristocracy, the most exclusive aristocracy in the world.I thought of nothing else. You do not know my struggles; you cannotguess them--the years and the years and all the bitter nights. They saythat any oppressed and despised race learns and practises craft andcunning. So does a man; he must--he has no other choice.
"I learned craft and cunning and practised them, too, because I had todo so. I did things that you have never done because you were not drivento them, and at last I saw the seed that I had planted begin to grow.Then I felt a joy that you can never feel because you have never workedfor an object, and never will work for it, as I have done. I havetriumphed. The best in the South obey me because they must. It is notthe title or the name, for there are those higher than mine, but it isthe power, the feeling that I have the reins in my hand and can guide."
"If you have won your heart's desire why do you rail at fate?" askedPrescott.
"Because I have not won my wish--not all of it. They say there is a weakspot in every man's armour; there is always an Achilles' heel. I am noexception. Well, the gods ordained that I, James Sefton, a man whothought himself made wholly of steel, should fall in love with a pieceof pink-and-white girlhood. What a ridiculous bit of nonsense! I supposeit was done to teach me I am a fool just like other men. I had begun tobelieve that I was exceptional, but I know better now."
"Then you call this a weakness and regret it?"
"Yes, because it interferes with all my plans. The time that I should bedevoting to ambition I must sacrifice for a weakness of the heart."
The low throb of a distant drum came from a rampart, and the Secretaryraised his head, as if the sound gave a new turn to his thoughts.
"Even the plans of ambition may crumble," he said. "Since I am speakingfrankly of one thing, Captain Prescott, I may speak likewise of another.Have you ever thought how unstable may prove this Southern Confederacyfor which we are spending so much blood?"
"I have," replied Prescott with involuntary emphasis.
"So have I; again I speak to you with perfect frankness, because it willnot be to your profit to repeat what I say. Do you realize that we arefighting against the tide, or, to put it differently, against the weightof all the ages? When one is championing a cause opposed to the tendencyof human affairs his victories are worse than his defeats because theymerely postpone the certain catastrophe. It is impossible for aslave-holding aristocracy under any circumstances to exist much longerin the world. When the apple is ripe it drops off the tree, and wecannot stay human progress. The French Revolution was bound to triumphbecause the institutions that it destroyed were worn out; the AmericanColonies were bound to win in their struggle with Britain because naturehad decreed the time for parting; and even if we should succeed in thiscontest we should free the slaves ourselves inside of twenty years,because slavery is now opposed to common sense as well as to morality."
"Then why do you espouse such a cause?" asked Prescott.
"Why do you?" replied the Secretary very quickly.
It was a question that Prescott never yet had been able to answer to hisown complete satisfaction, and now he preferred silence. But no replyseemed to be expected, as the Secretary continued to talk of theSouthern Confederacy, the plan upon which it was formed, and itsabnormal position in the world, expressing himself, as he had said hewould, with the most perfect frankness, displaying all the qualities ofa keen analytical and searching mind. He showed how the South wasone-sided, how it had cultivated only one or two forms of intellectualendeavour, and therefore, so he said, was not fitted in its present moodto form a calm judgment of great affairs.
"The South is not sufficiently arithmetical," he said; "statistics aredry, but they are very useful on the eve of a great war. The South,however, has always scorned mathematics; she doesn't know even now thevast resources of the North, her tremendous industrial machinery whichalso supports the machinery of war, and above all she does not know thatthe North is only now beginning to be aroused. Even to this day theSouth is narrow, and, on the whole, ignorant of the world."
Prescott, who knew these things already, did not like, nevertheless, tohear them said by another, and he was in arms at once to defend hisnative section.
"It may be as you say, Mr. Secretary," he replied, "and I have no doubtit is true that the North is just gathering her full strength for thewar, but you will see no shirking of the struggle on the part of theSouthern people. They are rooted deep in the soil, and will make abetter fight because of the faults to which you point."
The Secretary did not reply. They were now close to the fortificationsand could see the sentinels, as they walked the earthworks, blowing ontheir fingers to keep them warm. On one side they caught a slightglimpse of the river, a sheet of ice in its bed, and on the other thehills, with the trees glittering in icy sheaths like coats of mail.
"It is time to turn back," said Mr. Sefton, "and I wish to say againthat I like you, but I also warn you once more that I shall not spareyou because of it; my weakness does not go so far. I wish you out of myway, and I have offered you an alternative which you decline. Many menin my position would have crushed you at once; so I take credit tomyself. You adhere to your refusal?"
"Certainly I do," replied Prescott with emphasis.
"And you take the risk?"
"I take the risk."
"Very well, there is no need to say more. I warn you to look out foryourself."
"I shall do so," replied Prescott, and he laughed lightly and with alittle irony.
They walked slowly back to the city, saying no more on the subject whichlay nearest to their hearts, but talking of the war and its chances. Acompany of soldiers shivering in their scanty gray uniforms passed them.
"From Mississippi," said the Secretary; "they arrived only yesterday,and this, though the south to us, is a cruel north to them. But therewill not be many like these to come."
They parted in the city, and the Secretary did not repeat his threats;but Prescott knew none the less that he meant them.