Before the Dawn: A Story of the Fall of Richmond

  CHAPTER VIII

  THE PALL OF WINTER

  The deep snow was followed by the beginning of a thaw, interrupted by asudden and very sharp cold spell, when the mercury went down to zero andthe water from the melting snow turned to ice. Richmond was encased in asheath of gleaming white. The cold wintry sun was reflected from roofsof ice, the streets were covered with it, icicles hung like rows ofspears from the eaves, and the human breath smoked at the touch of theair.

  And as the winter pressed down closer and heavier on Richmond, so didthe omens of her fate. Higher and higher went the price of food, andlower and lower sank the hopes of her people. Their momentary joy underthe influence of such events as the Morgan reception was like the resultof a stimulant or narcotic, quickly over and leaving the body lethargicand dull. But this dullness had in it no thought of yielding.

  On the second day of the great cold all the Harleys came over to taketea with Mrs. Prescott and her son, and then Helen disclosed the factthat the Government was still assiduous in its search for the spy andthe lost documents.

  "Mr. Sefton thinks that we have a clue," she said, identifying herselfwith the Government now by the use of the pronoun.

  Prescott was startled a little, but he hid his surprise under a calmvoice when he asked:

  "What is this clue, or is it a secret?"

  "No, not among us who are so loyal to the cause," she repliedinnocently; "and it may be that they want it known more widely becausehere in Richmond we are all, in a way, defenders of the faith--ourfaith. They say that it was a woman who stole the papers, a tall womanin a brown dress and brown cloak, who entered the building when nearlyeverybody was gone to the Morgan reception. Mr. Sefton has learned thatmuch from one of the servants."

  "Has he learned anything more?" asked Prescott, whose heart was beatingin a way that he did not like.

  "No, the traces stop at that point; but Mr. Sefton believes she will befound. He says she could not have escaped from the city."

  "It takes a man like Sefton to follow the trail of a woman," interruptedColonel Harley. "If it were not for the papers she has I'd say let hergo."

  Prescott had a sudden feeling of warmth for Vincent Harley, and he nowbelieved a good heart to beat under the man's vain nature; but that wasto be expected: he was Helen Harley's brother. However, it did notappeal to Helen that way.

  "Shouldn't a woman who does such things suffer punishment like a man?"she asked.

  "Maybe so," replied the Colonel, "but I couldn't inflict it."

  The elder Harley advanced no opinion, but he was sure whatever Mr.Sefton did in the matter was right; and he believed, too, that the agileSecretary was more capable than any other man of dealing with the case.In fact, he was filled that day with a devout admiration of Mr. Sefton,and he did not hesitate to proclaim it, bending covert glances at hisdaughter as he pronounced these praises. Mr. Sefton, he said, mightdiffer a little in certain characteristics from the majority of theSouthern people, he might be a trifle shrewder in financial affairs,but, after all, the world must come to that view, and hard-headed mensuch as he would be of great value when the new Southern Republic beganits permanent establishment and its dealings with foreign nations. Asfor himself, he recognized the fact that he was not too old to learn,and Mr. Sefton was teaching him.

  Prescott listened with outward respect, but the words were so much mistto his brain, evaporating easily. Nor did Mr. Harley's obvious purposetrouble him as much as it had on previous occasions, the figure of theSecretary not looming so large in his path as it used to.

  He was on his way, two hours later, to the little house in the sidestreet, bending his face to a keen winter blast that cut like the edgeof a knife. He heard the wooden buildings popping as they contractedunder the cold, and near the outskirts of the town he saw the littlefires burning where the sentinels stopped now and then on their posts towarm their chilled fingers. He was resolved now to protect LuciaCatherwood. The belief of others that the woman of the brown cloak wasguilty aroused in him the sense of opposition. She must be innocent!

  He knocked again at the door, and as before it did not yield until hehad knocked several times. It was then Miss Charlotte Grayson whoappeared, and to Prescott's heightened fancy she seemed thinner and moreacidulous than ever. There was less of fear in her glance than when hecame the first time, but reproach took its place, and was expressed sostrongly that Prescott exclaimed at once:

  "I do not come to annoy you, Miss Grayson, but merely to inquire afteryourself and your friend, Miss Catherwood."

  Then he went in, uninvited, and looked about the room. Nothing waschanged except the fire, which was lower and feebler; it seemed toPrescott that the two or three lumps of coal on the hearth were huggingeach other for scant comfort, and even as he looked at it the timbers ofthe house popped with the cold.

  "Miss Catherwood is still with you, is she not?" asked Prescott. "Myerrand concerns her, and it is for her good that I have come."

  "Why do you, a Confederate officer, trouble yourself about a woman who,you say, has acted as a spy for the North?" asked Miss Grayson,pointedly.

  Prescott hesitated and flushed. Then he answered:

  "I hope, Miss Grayson, that I shall never be able to overlook a woman indistress."

  His eyes wandered involuntarily to the feeble fire, and then in its turnthe thin face of Miss Grayson flushed. For a moment, in herembarrassment, she looked almost beautiful.

  "Miss Catherwood is still here, is she not?" repeated Prescott. "Iassure you that I came in her interest."

  Miss Grayson gave him a look of such keenness that Prescott saw againthe strength and penetration underlying her timid and doubtful manner.She seemed to be reassured and replied:

  "Yes, she is here. I will call her."

  She disappeared into the next room and presently Miss Catherwood cameforth alone. She held her head as haughtily as ever, and regarded himwith a look in which he saw much defiance, and he fancied, too, a littledisdain.

  "Captain Prescott," she said proudly, "I am not an object for militarysupervision."

  "I am aware of that," he replied, "and I do not mean to be impolite,Miss Catherwood, when I say that I regret to find you still here."

  She pointed through the window to the white and frozen world outside.

  "I should be glad enough to escape," she said, "but that forbids."

  "I know it, or at least I expected it," said Prescott, "and it is partlywhy I am here. I came to warn you."

  "To warn me! Do I not know that I am in a hostile city?"

  "But there is more. The search for those missing papers, and, above all,for the one who took them--a tall woman in a brown cloak, they say--hasnot ceased, nor will it; the matter is in the hands of a crafty,persistent man and he thinks he has a clue. He has learned, as Ilearned, that a woman dressed like you and looking like you was in theGovernment building on the day of the celebration. He believes thatwoman is still in the city, and he is sure that she is the one for whomhe seeks."

  Her face blanched; he saw for the first time a trace of feminineweakness, even fear. It was gone, however, like a mist before a wind, asher courage came back.

  "But this man, whoever he may be, cannot find me," she said. "I amhidden unless some one chooses to betray me; not that I care for myself,but I cannot involve my generous cousin in such a trouble."

  Prescott shook his head.

  "Your trust I have not merited, Miss Catherwood," he said. "If I hadchosen to give you up to the authorities I should have done so beforethis. And your confidence in your hiding place is misplaced, too.Richmond is small. It is not a great city like New York or Philadelphia,and those who would conceal a Northern spy--I speak plainly--are butfew. It is easy to search and find."

  Prescott saw her tremble a little, although her face did not whitenagain, nor did a tear rise to her eye. She went again to the window,staring there at the frozen world of winter, and Prescott saw that apurpose was forming in her mind. It was a purpose bold and desperate,
but he knew that it would fail and so he spoke. He pointed out to herthe lines of defenses around Richmond, and the wilderness beyond all,buried under a cold that chained sentinels even to their fires; shewould surely perish, even if she passed the watch.

  "But if I were taken," she said, "I should be taken alone and they wouldknow nothing of Miss Grayson."

  "But I should never give up hope," he said. "After all, the hunted mayhide, if warned, when the hunter is coming."

  She gave him a glance, luminous, grateful, so like a shaft of lightpassing from one to another that it set Prescott's blood to leaping.

  "Captain Prescott," she said, "I really owe you thanks."

  Prescott felt as if he had been repaid, and afterward in the coolness ofhis own exclusive company he was angry with himself for the feeling--butshe stirred his curiosity; he was continually conscious of a desire toknow what manner of woman she was--to penetrate this icy mist, as itwere, in which she seemed to envelop herself.

  There was now no pretext for him to stay longer, but he glanced at thefire which had burned lower than ever, only two coals hugging each otherin the feeble effort to give forth heat. Prescott was standing beside alittle table and unconsciously he rested his right hand upon it. But heslipped the hand into his pocket, and when he took it out and rested itupon the table again there was something between the closed fingers.

  Miss Grayson returned at this moment to the room and looked inquiringlyat the two.

  "Miss Catherwood will tell you all that I have said to her," saidPrescott, "and I bid you both adieu."

  When he lifted his hand from the table he left upon it what the fingershad held, but neither of the women noticed the action.

  Prescott slipped into the street, looking carefully to see that he wasnot observed, and annoyed because he had to do so; as always his heartrevolted at hidden work. But Richmond was cold and desolate, and he wentback to the heart of the city, unobserved, meaning to find Winthrop, whoalways knew the gossip, and to learn if any further steps had been takenin the matter of the stolen documents.

  He found the editor with plenty of time on his hands and an abundantinclination to talk. Yes, there was something. Mr. Sefton, so he heard,meant to make the matter one of vital importance, and the higherofficers of the Government were content to leave it to him, confident ofhis ability and pertinacity and glad enough to be relieved of such atask.

  Prescott, when he heard this, gazed thoughtfully at the cobwebbedceiling. There was yet no call for him to go to the front, and he wouldstay to match his wits against those of the great Mr. Sefton; he hadbeen drawn unconsciously into a conflict--a conflict of which he wasperhaps unconscious--and every impulse in him told him to fight.

  When he went to his supper that evening he found a very small packagewrapped in brown paper lying unopened beside his plate. He knew it in aninstant, and despite himself his face flooded with colour.

  "It was left here for you an hour ago," said his mother, who in thatmoment achieved a triumph permitted to few mothers, burying a mightycuriosity under seeming indifference.

  "Who left it, mother?" asked Prescott, involuntarily.

  "I do not know," she replied. "There was a heavy knock upon the doorwhile I was busy, and when I went there after a moment's delay I foundthis lying upon the sill, but the bringer was gone."

  Prescott put the package in his pocket and ate his supper uneasily.

  When he was alone in his room he drew the tiny parcel from his pocketand took off the paper, disclosing two twenty-dollar gold pieces, whichhe returned to his pocket with a sigh.

  "At least I meant well," he said to himself.

  A persistent nature feeds on opposition, and the failure of his firstattempt merely prepared Prescott for a second. The affair, too, began toabsorb his mind to such an extent that his friends noticed his lack ofinterest in the society and amusements of Richmond. He had been wellreceived there, his own connections, his new friends, and above all hispleasing personality, exercising a powerful influence; and, coming fromthe rough fields of war, he had enjoyed his stay very keenly.

  But he had a preoccupation now, and he was bent upon doing what hewished to do. Talbot and the two editors rallied him upon his absence ofmind, and even Helen, despite her new interest in Wood, looked a littlesurprised and perhaps a little aggrieved at his inattention; but none ofthese things had any effect upon him. His mind was now thrown for thetime being into one channel, and he could not turn it into another if hewished.

  On the next morning after his failure he passed again near the littlewooden house, the day being as cold as ever and the smoke of manychimneys lying in black lines against the perfect blue-and-whiteheavens. He looked at the chimney of the little wooden cottage, andthere, too, was smoke coming forth; but it was a thin and feeble stream,scarcely making even a pale blur against the transparent skies. Thehouse itself appeared to be as cold and chilly as the frozen snowoutside.

  Prescott glanced up and down the street. An old man, driving a smallwagon drawn by a single horse, was about to pass him. Prescott lookedinto the body of the wagon and saw that it contained coal.

  "For sale?" he asked.

  The man nodded.

  "How much for the lot?"

  "Twenty dollars."

  "Gold or Confederate money?"

  The old man blew his breath on his red woolen comforter and thoughtfullywatched it freeze there, then he looked Prescott squarely in the faceand asked:

  "Stranger, have you just escaped from a lunatic asylum?"

  "Certainly not!"

  "Then why do you ask me such a fool question?"

  Prescott drew forth one of the two twenty-dollar gold pieces and handedit to the man.

  "I take your coal," he said. "Now unload it into that little back yardthere and answer no questions. Can you do both?"

  "Of course--for twenty dollars in gold," replied the driver.

  Prescott walked farther up the street, but he watched the man, and sawhim fulfil his bargain, a task easily and quickly done. He tipped thecoal into the little back yard of the wooden cottage, and drove away,obviously content with himself and his bargain. Then Prescott, too, wenthis way, feeling a pleasant glow.

  He came back the next morning and the coal lay untouched. The boardfence concealed it from the notice of casual passers, and so thieves hadnot been tempted. Those in the house must have seen it, yet not a lumpwas gone; and the feeble stream of smoke from the chimney haddisappeared; nothing rose there to stain the sky. It occurred toPrescott that both the women might have fled from the city, but secondthought told him escape was impossible. They must yet be inside thehouse; and surely it was very cold there!

  He came back the same afternoon, but the coal was still untouched andthe cold gripped everything in bands of iron. He returned a third timethe next morning, slipping along in the shadow of the high board fencelike a thief--he did have a somewhat guilty conscience--but when hepeeped over the fence he uttered an exclamation.

  Four of the largest lumps of coal were missing!

  There was no doubt of it; he had marked them lying on the top of theheap, and distinguished by their unusual size.

  "They are certainly gone," said Prescott to himself.

  But it was not thieves. There in the snow he perceived the tracks ofsmall feet leading from the coal-heap to the back door of the house.

  Prescott felt a mighty sense of triumph, and gave utterance in a lowvoice to the unpoetic exclamation:

  "They had to knuckle!"

  But there was no smoke coming from the chimney, and he knew they hadjust taken the coal. "They!" It was "she," as there was only one trailin the snow, but he wondered which one. He was curiously inquisitive onthis point, and he would have given much to know, but he did not dreamof forcing an entrance into the house; yes "forcing" was now the word.

  He was afraid to linger, as he did not wish to be seen by anybody eitherinside or outside the cottage, and went away; but he came back in anhour--that is, he came to the corner of the str
eet, where he could seethe feeble column of smoke rising once more from the chimney of thelittle wooden house.

  Then, beholding this faint and unintentional signal, he smote himselfupon the knee, giving utterance again to his feelings of triumph, anddeparted, considering himself a young man of perception and ability. Hisamiability lasted so long that his mother congratulated him upon it,and remarked that he must have had good news, but Prescott gallantlyattributed his happiness to her presence alone. She said nothing inreply, but kept her thoughts to herself.

  Inasmuch as the mind grows upon what it consumes, Prescott was soonstricken with a second thought, and the next day at twilight he boughtas obscurely as he could a Virginia-cured ham and carried it away,wrapped in brown paper, under his arm.

  Fortunately he met no one who took notice, and he reached the littlestreet unobserved. Here he deliberated with himself awhile, butconcluded at last to put it on the back door step.

  "When they come for coal," he said to himself, "they will see it, or ifthey don't they will fall over it, if some sneak thief doesn't get itfirst."

  He noticed, dark as it was, that the little trail in the snow had grown,and in an equal ratio the size of the coal pile had diminished.

  Then he crept away, looking about him with great care lest he be seen,but some intuition sent him back, and when he stole along in the shadowof the fence he saw the rear door of the house open and a thin, angularfigure appear upon the threshold. It was too dark for him to see theface, but he knew it to be Miss Grayson. That figure could not belong tothe other.

  She stumbled, too, and uttered a low cry, and Prescott, knowing thecause of both, was pleased. Then he saw her stoop and, raising hissupply of manna in both her hands, unfold the wrappings of brown paper.She looked all about, and Prescott knew, in fancy, that her gaze wasstartled and inquisitive. The situation appealed to him, flatteringalike his sense of pleasure and his sense of mystery, and again helaughed softly to himself.

  A cloud which had hidden it sailed past and the moonlight fell in asilver glow on the old maid's thin but noble features; then Prescott sawa look of perplexity, mingled with another look which he did not whollyunderstand, but which did not seem hostile. She hesitated awhile,fingering the package, then she put it back upon the sill and beckonedto one within.

  Prescott saw Miss Catherwood appear beside Miss Grayson. He could nevermistake her--her height, that proud curve of the neck and the firm poiseof the head. She wore, too, the famous brown cloak--thrown over hershoulders. He found a strange pleasure in seeing her there, but he wassorry, too, that Miss Grayson had called her, as he fancied now that heknew the result.

  He saw them talking, the shrug of the younger woman's shoulders, theappealing gesture of the older, and then the placing of the package uponthe sill, after which the two retreated into the house and shut thedoor.

  Prescott experienced distinct irritation, even anger, and rising fromhis covert he walked away, feeling for the moment rather smaller thanusual.

  "Then some sneak thief shall have it," he said to himself, "for I willnot take it again," and at that moment he wished what he said.

  * * * * *

  True to Redfield's prediction, the search for the hidden spy began thenext morning, and, under the direction of Mr. Sefton, was carried onwith great zeal and energy, attracting in its course, as was natural,much attention from the people of Richmond.

  Some of the comments upon this piece of enterprise were not favourable,and conspicuous among them was that of Mrs. Prescott, who said to herson:

  "If this spy has escaped from Richmond, then the search is useless; ifstill here, then no harm has been done and there is nothing to undo."

  Prescott grew nervous, and presently he went forth to watch the hue andcry. The house of Miss Charlotte Grayson had not been searched yet, butit was soon to be, as Miss Grayson was well known for her Northernsympathies. He hovered in the vicinity, playing the role of the curiousonlooker, in which he was not alone, and presently he saw a small partyof soldiers, ten in number, headed by Talbot himself, arrive in front ofthe little brown cottage.

  When he beheld his friend conducting this particular portion of thesearch, Prescott was tempted, if the opportunity offered, to confide thetruth to Talbot and leave the rest to his generosity; but coolreflection told him that he had no right to put such a weight upon afriend, and while he sought another way, Talbot himself hailed him.

  "Come along and hold up my hands for me, Bob," he said. "This is a nastyduty that they've put me to--it's that man Sefton--and I need help whenI pry into the affairs of a poor old maid's house--Miss CharlotteGrayson."

  Prescott accepted the invitation, because it was given in such afriendly way and because he was drawn on by curiosity--a desire to seethe issue. It might be that Miss Catherwood, reasserting her claim ofinnocence, would not seek to conceal herself, but it seemed to him thatthe evidence against her was too strong. And he believed that she woulddo anything to avoid compromising Miss Grayson.

  The house was closed, windows and doors, but a thin gray stream of smokerose from the chimney. Prescott noticed, with wary eye, that the snowwhich lay deep on the ground was all white and untrodden in front of thehouse.

  One of the soldiers, obedient to Talbot's order, used the knocker of thedoor, and after repeating the action twice and thrice and receiving noresponse, broke the lock with the butt of his rifle.

  "I have to do it," said Talbot with an apologetic air to Prescott. "It'sorders."

  They entered the little drawing-room and found Miss Grayson, sitting inprim and dignified silence, in front of the feeble fire that burned onthe hearth. It looked to Prescott like the same fire that was flickeringthere when first he came, but he believed now it was his coal.

  Miss Grayson remained silent, but a high colour glowed in her face andmuch fire was in her eye. She shot one swift glance at Prescott and thenignored him. Talbot, Prescott and all the soldiers took off their capsand bowed, a courtesy which the haughty old maid ignored without rising.

  "Miss Grayson," said Talbot humbly, "we have come to search your house."

  "To search it for what?" she asked icily.

  "A Northern spy."

  "A fine duty for a Southern gentleman," she said.

  Talbot flushed red.

  "Miss Grayson," he said, "this is more painful to me than it is to you.You are a well-known Northern sympathizer and I am compelled to do it.It is no choice of mine."

  Prescott noticed that Talbot refrained from asking her if she had anyspy hidden in the house, not putting her word to the proof, and mentallyhe thanked him. "You are a real Southern gentleman," he thought.

  Miss Grayson remained resolutely in her chair and stared steadily intothe fire, ignoring the search, after her short and sharp talk withTalbot, who took his soldiers into the other rooms, glad to get out ofher presence. Prescott lingered behind, anxious to catch the eye of MissGrayson and to have a word with her, but she ignored him as pointedly asshe had ignored Talbot, though he walked heavily about, making his bootsclatter on the floor. Still that terrifying old maid stared into thefire, as if she were bent upon watching every flickering flame andcounting every coal.

  Her silence at last grew so ominous and weighed so heavily uponPrescott's spirits that he fled from the room and joined Talbot, whogrowled and asked him why he had not come sooner, saying: "A real friendwould stay with me and share all that's disagreeable."

  Prescott wondered what the two women would say of him when they foundMiss Catherwood, but he was glad afterward to remember that his chieffeeling was for Miss Catherwood and not for himself. He expected everymoment that they would find her, and it was hard to keep his heart fromjumping. He looked at every chair and table and sofa, dreading lest heshould see the famous brown cloak lying there.

  It was a small house with not many rooms, and the search took but ashort time. They passed from one to another seeing nothing suspicious,and came to the last. "She is here," thought Prescott,
"fleeing like ahunted hare to the final covert." But she was not there--and it wasevident that she was not in the house at all. It was impossible for onein so small a space to have eluded the searchers. Talbot heaved a sighof relief, and Prescott felt as if he could imitate him.

  "A nasty job well done," said Talbot.

  They went back to the sitting-room, where the lady of the house wasstill confiding her angry thoughts to the red coals.

  "Our search is ended," said Talbot politely to Miss Grayson, "and I amglad to say that we have found nothing."

  The lady's gaze was not deflected a particle, nor did she reply.

  "I bid you good-day, Miss Grayson," continued Talbot, "and hope that youwill not be annoyed again in this manner."

  Still no reply nor any change in the confidences passing between thelady and the red coals.

  Talbot gathered up his men with a look and hurried outside the house,followed in equal haste by Prescott.

  "How warm it is out here!" exclaimed Talbot, as he stood in the snow.

  "Warm?" said Prescott in surprise, looking around at the chill world.

  "Yes, in comparison with the temperature in there," said Talbot,pointing to Miss Grayson's house.

  Prescott laughed, and he felt a selfish joy that the task had beenTalbot's and not his. But he was filled, too, with wonder. What hadbecome of Miss Catherwood?

  They had just turned into the main street, when they met Mr. Sefton, whoseemed expectant.

  "Did you find the spy, Mr. Talbot?" he asked.

  "No," replied Talbot, with ill-concealed aversion; "there was nothing inthe house."

  "I thought it likely that some one would be found there," said theSecretary thoughtfully. "Miss Grayson has never hidden her Northernsympathies, and a woman is just fanatic enough to help in such abusiness."

  Then he dismissed Talbot and his men--the Secretary had at times a curtand commanding manner--and took Prescott's arm in his with an appearanceof great friendship and confidence.

  "I want to talk with you a bit about this affair, Captain Prescott," hesaid. "You are going back to the front soon, and in the shock of thegreat battles that are surely coming such a little thing will disappearfrom your mind; but it has its importance, nevertheless. Now we do notknow whom to trust. I may have seemed unduly zealous. Confess that youhave thought so, Captain Prescott."

  Prescott did not reply and the Secretary smiled.

  "I knew it," he continued; "you have thought so, and so have many othersin Richmond, but I must do my duty, nevertheless. This spy, I am sure,is yet in the city; but while she cannot get out herself, she may haveways of forwarding to the enemy what she steals from us. There is wherethe real danger lies, and I am of the opinion that the spy is aided bysome one in Richmond, ostensibly a friend of the Southern cause. What doyou think of it, Captain?"

  The young Captain was much startled, but he kept his countenance andanswered with composure:

  "I really don't know anything about it, Mr. Sefton. I chanced to bepassing, and as Mr. Talbot, who is one of my best friends, asked me togo in with him, I did so."

  "And it does credit to your zeal," said the Secretary. "It is in fact apetty business, but that is where you soldiers in the field have theadvantage of us administrators. You fight in great battles and you winglory, but you don't have anything to do with the little things."

  "Our lives are occupied chiefly with little things; the great battlestake but a few hours in our existence."

  "But you have a free and open life," said the Secretary. "It is truethat your chance of death is great, but all of us must come to that,sooner or later. As I said, you are in the open; you do not have any ofthe mean work to do."

  The Secretary sighed and leaned a little on Prescott's arm. The youngCaptain regarded him out of the corner of his eye, but he could readnothing in his companion's face. Mr. Sefton's air was that of a mana-weary--one disgusted with the petty ways and intrigues of office.

  They walked on together, though Prescott would have escaped could hehave done so, and many people, noting the two thus arm in arm, said toeach other that young Captain Prescott must be rising in favour, aseverybody knew Mr. Sefton to be a powerful man.

  Feeling sure that this danger was past for the present, Robert went hometo his mother, who received him in the sitting-room with a slight air ofagitation unusual in one of such a placid temper.

  "Well, mother, what is the matter?" he asked. "One would think from yourmanner that you have been taking part in this search for the spy."

  "And that I am suffering from disappointment because the spy has notbeen found?"

  "How did you know that, mother?"

  "The cook told me. Do you suppose that such an event as this wouldescape the notice of a servant? Why, I am prepared to gossip about itmyself."

  "Well, mother, there is little to be said. You told me this morning thatyou hoped the spy would not be found, and your wish has come true."

  "I see no reason to change my wish," she said. "The ConfederateGovernment has heavier work to do now than to hunt for a spy."

  But Prescott noticed during the remainder of the afternoon andthroughout supper that his mother's slight attacks of agitation wererecurrent. There was another change in her. She was rarely ademonstrative woman, even to her son, and though her only child, she hadnever spoiled him; but now she was very solicitous for him. Had hesuffered from the cold? Was he to be assigned to some particularly hardduty? She insisted, too, upon giving him the best of food, and Prescott,wishing to please her, quietly acquiesced, but watched her covertlythough keenly.

  He knew his mother was under the influence of some unusual emotion, andhe judged that this house-to-house search for a spy had touched a softheart.

  "Mother," he said, after supper, "I think I shall go out for awhile thisevening."

  "Do go by all means," she said. "The young like the young, and I wishyou to be with your friends while you are in Richmond."

  Prescott looked at her in surprise. She had never objected to hisspending the evening elsewhere, but this was the first time she hadurged him to go. Yes, "urged" was the word, because her tone indicatedit. However, she was so good about asking no questions that he askednone in return, and went forth without comment.

  His steps, as often before, led him to Winthrop's office, where he andhis friends had grown into the habit of meeting and discussing the news.To-night Wood came in, too, and sat silently in a chair, whittling apine stick with a bowie-knife and evidently in deep thought. Hiscontinued stay in Richmond excited comment, because he was a man of suchrestless activity. He had never before been known to remain so long inone place, though now the frozen world, making military operationsimpossible or impracticable, offered fair excuse.

  "That man Sefton came to see me to-day," he said after a long silence."He wanted to know just how we are going to whip the enemy. What a foolquestion! I don't like Sefton. I wish he was on the other side!"

  A slight smile appeared on the faces of most of those present. All menknew the reason why the mountain General did not like the Secretary, butno one ventured upon a teasing remark. The great black-hairedcavalryman, sitting there, trimming off pine shavings with a razor-edgedbowie-knife, seemed the last man in the world to be made the subject ofa jest.

  Prescott left at midnight, but he did not reach home until an hourlater, having done an errand in the meanwhile. In the course of the dayhe had marked a circumstance of great interest and importance. Framehouses when old and as lightly built as that in the little side streetare likely to sag somewhere. Now, at a certain spot the front door ofthis house failed to meet the floor by at least an eighth of an inch,and Prescott proposed to take advantage of the difference.

  In the course of the day he had counted his remaining gold with greatsatisfaction. He had placed one broad, shining twenty-dollar piece in asmall envelope, and now as he walked through the snow he fingered it inhis pocket, feeling all the old satisfaction.

  He was sure--it was an intuition as well as th
e logical result ofreasoning--that Lucia Catherwood was still in the city and would returnto Miss Grayson's cottage. Now he bent his own steps that way, lookingup at the peaceful moon and down at the peaceful capital. Nothing wasalight except the gambling houses; the dry snow crunched under his feet,but there was no other sound save the tread of an occasional sentinel,and the sharp crack of the timbers in a house contracting under thegreat cold.

  A wind arose and moaned in the desolate streets of the dark city.Prescott bent to the blast, and shivering, drew the collar of hismilitary cloak high about his ears. Then he laughed at himself for afool because he was going to the help of two women who probably hatedand scorned him; but he went on.

  The little house was dark and silent. The sky above, though shadowed bynight, was blue and clear, showing everything that rose against it; butthere was no smoke from the cottage to leave a trail there.

  "That's wisdom," thought Prescott. "Coal's too precious a thing now inRichmond to be wasted. It would be cheaper to burn Confederate money."

  He stood for a moment, shivering by the gate, having little thought ofdetection, as use had now bred confidence in him, and then went inside.It was the work of but half a minute to slip a double eagle in its paperwrapping in the crack under the door, and then he walked away feelingagain that pleasing glow which always came over him after a good deed.

  He was two squares away when he encountered a figure walking softly, andthe moonlight revealed the features of Mr. Sefton, the last man in theworld whom he wished to see just then. He was startled, even morestartled than he would admit to himself, at encountering this man whohung upon him and in a measure seemed to cut off his breath.

  But he was convinced once more that it was only chance, as theSecretary's face bore no look of malice, no thought of suspicion, being,on the contrary, mild and smiling. As before, he took Prescott'sunresisting arm and pointed up at the bright stars in their sea of blue.

  "They are laughing at our passions, Mr. Prescott, perhaps smiling is theword," he said. "Such a peace as that appeals to me. I am not fond ofwar and I know that you are not. I feel it particularly to-night. Thereis poetry in the heavens so calm and so cold."

  Prescott said nothing; the old sense of oppression, of one caught in atrap, was in full force, and he merely waited.

  "I wish to speak frankly to-night," continued the Secretary. "There wasat first a feeling of coldness, even hostility, between us, but in mycase, and I think in yours too, it has passed. It is because we nowrecognize facts and understand that we are in a sense rivals--friendlyrivals in a matter of which we know well."

  The hand upon Prescott's arm did not tremble a particle as the Secretarythus spoke so clearly. But Prescott did not answer, and they went on insilence to the end of the square, where a man, a stranger to Prescott,was waiting.

  Mr. Sefton beckoned to the stranger and, politely asking Prescott toexcuse him a moment, talked with him a little while in low tones. Thenhe dismissed him and rejoined Prescott.

  "A secret service agent," he said. "Unfortunately, I have to do withthese people, though I am sure it could not be more repugnant to any onethan it is to me; but we are forced to it. We must keep a watch evenhere in Richmond among our own people."

  Prescott felt cold to the spine when the Secretary, with a courteousgood-night, released him a few moments later. Then he hurried home andslept uneasily.

  He was in dread at the breakfast table the next morning lest his mothershould hand him a tiny package, left at the door, as she had done oncebefore, but it did not happen, nor did it come the next day or the next.

  The gold double eagle had been kept.