THE ASSASSIN
John Vaughan's face paled with the sudden realization of the tremendous
deed he was about to do. It had seemed the only solution of the Nation's
life and his own, an hour ago. The air of Washington reeked with deadly
hatred of the President. Every politician who could not control his big,
straightforward, honest mind was his enemy. The gloom which shrouded the
country over Grant's losses and the failure of his campaign had set
every hound yelping at his heels in full cry. He spent much of his time
in the hospitals visiting and cheering the wounded soldiers. These men
were his friends. They believed in his honesty, his gentleness and his
humanity, and yet so deadly had grown the passions of war and so bitter
the madness of political prejudice that the majority of the wounded men
were going to vote against him in the approaching election.
An informal vote taken in Carver Hospital had shown the amazing result
of three to one in favor of McClellan!
John Vaughan, in his fevered imagination, had felt that he was rendering
a heroic service to the people in removing the one obstacle to peace.
The President was the only man who could possibly defeat McClellan and
continue the war. He was denounced by the opposition as usurper, tyrant,
and dictator. He was denounced by thousands of men in his own party as
utterly unfit to wield the power he possessed.
And yet, as he heard the slow, heavy footfall approaching the door, a
moment of agonizing doubt gripped his will and weakened his arm. His eye
rested on a worn thumbed copy of the Bible which lay open on the desk.
This man, who was not a church member, in the loneliness of his awful
responsibilities, had been searching there for guidance and inspiration.
There was a pathos in the thought that found his inner conscience
through the mania that possessed him.
Well, he'd test him. He would try this tyrant here alone before the
judgment bar of his soul--condemn him to death or permit him to live, as
he should prove true or false to his mighty trust.
His hand touched his revolver again and he set his square jaws firmly.
The tall figure entered and closed the door.
A flash of blind rage came from the depths of John Vaughan's dark eyes
at the first sight of him. He moved forward a step and his hand trembled
in a desperate instinctive desire to kill. He was a soldier. His enemy
was before him advancing. To kill had become a habit. It seemed the one
natural thing to do.
He stopped with a shock of surprise as the President turned his haggard
eyes in a dazed way and looked about the room.
The light fell full on his face increasing its ghost-like pathetic
expression. The story of anxiety and suffering was burnt in letters of
fire that left his features a wrinkled mask of grey ashes. The drooping
eyelids were swollen, and dark bags hung beneath them. The muscles of
his massive jaws were flaccid, the lines about his large expressive
mouth terrible in their eloquence. His sombre eyes seemed to gaze on the
world with the anguish of millions in their depths.
For a moment John Vaughan was held in a spell by the unexpected
apparition.
"You are alone, sir?" the quiet voice slowly asked.
"Yes."
"I had expected Miss Winter----"
"She came with me and was compelled to leave."
"Oh--will you pull up a chair."
The tall form dropped wearily at his desk. His voice had a far-away
expression in its tones.
"And what can I do for you, sir?" he asked.
"My name is Vaughan--John Vaughan----"
The dark head was lifted with interest:
"The brother of Ned Vaughan, who escaped from prison?"
John nodded:
"The son of Dr. Richard Vaughan, of Palmyra, Missouri."
"Then you're our boy, fighting with Grant's army--yes, I heard of you
when your brother was in trouble. You've been ill, I see--wounded, of
course?"
"Yes."
The President rose and took his visitor's hand, clasping it with both
his own:
"There's nothing I won't do for one of our wounded boys if I can--what
is it?"
"My mother writes me that my father has been arrested without warrant,
is held in prison without bail and denied the right to trial----"
He paused and leaned on the desk, trembling with excitement which had
increased as he spoke.
"I have come to ask you for justice--that he shall be confronted by his
accusers in open court and given a fair trial----"
A frown deepened the shadows in the dark, kindly face:
"And for what was he arrested?"
"For exercising the right of free speech. In a public address he
denounced the war----"
The President shook his head sorrowfully:
"You see, my boy, your house is divided against itself--the symbol in
the family group of our unhappy country. Of course, I didn't know of
this arrest. Such things hurt me, so I refuse to know of them unless I
must. They tell me that Seward and Stanton have arrested without warrant
thirty-five thousand men. I hope this is an exaggeration. Still it may
be true----"
He stopped, sighed, and shook his head again:
"But come, now, my son, and put yourself in my place. What can I do?
I've armed two million men and spend four millions a day to fight the
South because they try to secede and disrupt the Union. My opponents in
the North, taking advantage of our sorrows, harangue the people and
elect a hostile legislature in Indiana, Ohio, and Illinois. They are
about to pass an ordinance of secession and strike the Union in the
back. If secession is wrong in the South it is surely wrong in the
North. Shall I fight secession in the South and merely argue politely
with it here? Instead of shooting these men, I've consented to a more
merciful thing, I just let Seward and Stanton lock them up until the
war is over and then I'll turn them all loose.
"Understand, my boy, I don't shirk responsibility. No Cabinet or
Congress could conduct a successful war. There must be a one man power.
I have been made that power by the people. I am using it reverently but
firmly. And I am backed by the prayers, the good will and the confidence
of the people--the silent millions whom I don't see, but love and trust.
"This war was not of my choosing. Once begun, it must be fought to the
end and the Nation saved. It will then be proved that among free men
there can be no successful appeal from the ballot to the bullet, and
that they who take such appeal are sure to lose their case and pay the
cost. To preserve the life of the Constitution I must strain some of its
provisions in time of war----"
"And you will not interfere to give these accused men a trial?" John
Vaughan interrupted in hard tones.
"I cannot, my boy, I dare not interfere. The civil law must be suspended
temporarily in such cases. I cannot shoot a soldier for desertion and
allow the man to go free who, by denouncing the war, causes him to
desert. It cuts to the very heart of the Nation--its life is
involved----"
He rose again and paced the floor, turning his back on his visitor in
utter unconsciousness of the dangerous glitter in his eyes.
He paused and placed his big hand gently on John's arm:
"I know in doing this I am wielding a dangerous power--the power of
kings--not because I love it, but because I must save my country. And
I'm the humblest man who walks God's earth to-night!"
In spite of his bitterness, the simplicity and honesty of the President
found John Vaughan's heart. No vain or cruel or selfish man could talk
or feel like that. In the glow of his eager thought the ashen look of
his face disappeared and it became radiant with warmth and tenderness.
In dreamy, passionate tones he went on as if talking to convince himself
he must not despair. The younger man for the moment was swept
resistlessly on by the spell of his eloquence.
"They are always asking of me impossible things. Now that I shall remove
Grant from command. I know that his battles have been bloody. Yet how
else can we win? The gallant, desperate South has only a handful of men,
ragged and half starved, yet they are standing against a million and I
have exhaustless millions behind these. With Lee they seem invincible
and every move of his ragged men sends a shiver of horror and of
admiration through the North. Yet, if Grant fights on he must win. He
will wear Lee out--and that is the only way he can beat him.
"Besides, his plan is bigger than the single campaign against Richmond.
There's a grim figure at the head of a hundred thousand men fighting his
way inch by inch toward Atlanta. If Sherman should win and take Atlanta,
Lee's army will starve and the end is sure. I can't listen to this
clamor. I will not remove Grant--though I've reasons for believing at
this moment that he may vote for McClellan for President.
"Don't think, my son, that all this blood and suffering is not mine. It
is. Every shell that screams from those big guns crashes through my
heart. The groans of the wounded, the sighs of the dying, the tears of
widows and orphans, of sisters and mothers--all--blue and grey--they are
mine. I see and hear it all, feel all, suffer all.
"No man who lives to-day is responsible for this war. I could not have
prevented it, nor could Jefferson Davis. We are in the grip of mighty
forces sweeping on from the centuries. We are fighting the battle of the
ages.
"But our country's worth it if we can only save it. Out of this agony
and tears will be born a united people. We have always been cursed with
the impossible contradiction of negro slavery.
"There has never been a real Democracy in the world because there has
never been one without the shadow of slavery. We must build here a real
government of the people, by the people, for the people. It's not a
question merely of the fate of four millions of black slaves. It's a
question of the destiny of millions of freemen. I hear the tread of
coming generations of their children on this continent. Their destiny is
in your hand and mine--a free Nation without a slave--the hope, refuge
and inspiration of the world.
"This Union that we must save will be a beacon light on the shores of
time for mankind. It will be worth all the blood and all the tears we
shall give for it. The grandeur of our sacrifice will be the birthright
of our children's children. It will be the end of sectionalism. We can
never again curse and revile one another, as we have in the past. We've
written our character in blood for all time. We've met in battle. The
Northern man knows the Southerner is not a braggart. The Southerner
knows the Yankee is not a coward.
"There can be but one tragedy, my boy, that can have no ray of
light--and that is that all this blood should have flowed in vain, all
these brave men died for nought, that the old curse shall remain, the
Union be dismembered into broken sections and on future bloody fields
their battles be fought over again----"
He paused and drew a deep breath:
"This is the fear that's strangling me! For as surely as George B.
McClellan is elected President, surrounded by the men who at present
control his party, just so surely will the war end in compromise,
failure and hopeless tragedy----"
"Why do you say that?" John asked sharply.
"Because standing here on this very spot, before the battle of
Gettysburg I offered him the Presidency if he would preside at a great
mass meeting of his party and guarantee to save the Union. I offered to
efface myself and give up the dearest ambition of my soul to heal the
wounds of my people--and he refused----"
"Refused?" John gasped.
"Yes."
The younger man gazed at the haggard face for a moment through dimmed
eyes, sank slowly to a seat and covered his face in his hands in a cry
of despair!
The reaction was complete and his collapse utter.
The President gazed at the bent figure with sorrowful amazement, and
touched his head gently with the big friendly hand:
"Why, what's the matter, my boy? I'm the only man to despair. You're
just a captain in the army. If to be the head of hell is as hard as
what I've had to undergo here I could find it in my heart to pity Satan
himself. And if there's a man out of hell who suffers more than I do, I
pity him. But it's my burden and I try to bear it. I wish I had only
yours!"
John Vaughan sprang to his feet and threw his hands above his head in a
gesture of anguish:
"O my God, you don't understand!"
He quickly crossed the space that separated them and faced the President
with grim determination:
"But I'm going to tell you the truth now and you can do what you think's
right. In the last fight before Petersburg I killed my brother in a
night attack and held his dying body in my arms. I think I must have
gone mad that night. Anyhow, when I lay in the hospital recovering from
my wounds, I got the letter about my father and made up my mind to kill
you----"
He paused, but the sombre eyes gave no sign--they seemed to be gazing on
the shores of eternity.
"And I came here to-night for that purpose--my men are in that hall
now!"
He stopped and folded his hands deliberately, waiting for his judge to
speak.
A long silence fell between them. The tall, sorrowful man was looking at
him with a curious expression of wonder and self pity.
"So you came here to-night to kill me?"
"Yes."
Again a long silence--the deep eyes looking, looking with their strange
questioning gaze.
"Well," the younger man burst out at last, "what is my fate? I deserve
it. Even generosity and gentleness have their limit. I've passed it.
And I've no desire to escape."
The kindly hand was lifted to John Vaughan's shoulder:
"Why didn't you do it?"
"Because for the first time you made me see things as you see them--I
got a glimpse of the inside----"
"Then I won you--didn't I?" the President cried with elation. "I've been
talking to you just to keep my courage up--just to save my own soul from
the hell of despair. But you've lifted me up. If I can win you I can win
the others if I could only get their ear. All I need is a little time.
And I'm going to fight for it. Every act of my life in this great office
will stand the test of time because I've put my immortal soul into the
struggle without one thought of saving myself.
"I've told you the truth, and the truth has turned a murderer into my
friend. If only the people can know--can have time to think, I'll win.
You thought me an ambitious tyrant--now, didn't you?"
"Yes."
"Great God!--I had my ambitions, yes--as every American boy worth his
salt has. And I dared to dream this vision of the White House--I, the
humblest of the humble, born in a lowly pioneer's cabin in the woods of
Kentucky. My dream came true, and where is its glory? Ashes and blood.
And I, to whom the sight of blood is an agony unendurable, have lived
with aching heart through it all and envied the dead their rest on your
battlefields----"
He stopped suddenly and fixed John with a keen look:
"You'll stand by me, now, boy, through thick and thin?"
"I'd count it an honor to die for you----"
"All right. I give you the chance. I'm going to send you on a dangerous
mission. I need but two things to sweep the country in this election and
preserve the Union--a single big victory in the field to lift the people
out of the dumps and make them see things as they are, and a declaration
from Mr. Davis that there can be no peace save in division. I know that
he holds that position, but the people in the North doubt it. I've sent
Jaquess and Gilmore there to obtain his declaration. Technically they
are spies. They may be executed or imprisoned and held to the end of the
war. They go as private citizens of the North who desire peace.
"I want another man in Richmond whose identity will be unknown to report
the results of that meeting in case they are imprisoned. You must go as
a spy at the double risk of your life----"
"I'm ready, sir," was the quick response.
The big hand fumbled the black beard a moment:
"You doubtless said bitter things in Washington when you returned?"
"Many of them."
"Then you were approached by the leaders of Knights of the Golden
Circle?"
"Yes."
"Good! You're the man I want without a doubt. You can use their signs
and pass words in Richmond. Besides, you have a Southern accent. Your
chances of success are great. I want you to leave here in an hour. Go
straight through as a scout and spy in Confederate uniform. If Jaquess
and Gilmore are allowed to return and tell their story--all right, your
work with them is done. If they are imprisoned, get through the lines to
Grant's headquarters, report this fact and Mr. Davis' answer, and it
will be doubly effective--you understand?"
"Perfectly, sir."
"That's your first job. But I want you to go to Richmond for a double
purpose--to take the train for Atlanta, get through the lines and give a
message to a man down South I've been thinking about for the past month.
The world has forgotten Sherman in the roar of the great battles Grant
has fought. I haven't. Slowly but surely his grim figure has been
growing taller on the horizon as the smoke lifts from each of his
fights. Grant says he is our biggest general. Only a great man could say
that about a subordinate commander. That's another reason I won't listen
to people who demand Grant's removal.
"Sherman is now a hundred and fifty miles in Georgia before Atlanta. His
road is being cut behind him every other day. You might be weeks trying
to get to him by Chattanooga. The trains run through from Richmond. I
want you to reach him quick, and give him a message from me. I can't
send a written order. It wouldn't be fair to Grant. I'll give you
credentials that he'll accept that will cost you your life in Richmond
if their meaning is discovered.
"Tell General Sherman that if he can take Atlanta the blow will thrill
the Nation, carry the election, and save the Union. Grant is deadlocked
at Petersburg and may be there all winter. If he can fight at once and
give us a victory, it's all that's needed. I'll send him an order to
strike. Tell him to destroy it if he wins. If he loses--I'll publish it
and take the blame on myself. Can you do this?"
"I will or die in the effort," was the quick reply.
"All right. Take this card at once to Stanton's office. Ask him to send
you by boat to Aquia--by horse from there. Return here for your papers."
In ten minutes John had dispatched a note to Betty:
"DEAREST: God saved me from an act of madness. He sent His message
through your sweet spirit. I am leaving for the South on a
dangerous mission for the President. If I live to return I am all
yours--if I die, I shall still live through eternity if only to
love you.
"JOHN."
Within an hour he had communicated with the commander of the Knights,
his arrangements were complete, and he was steaming down the river on
his perilous journey.