THE SIGNAL LIGHT
"Are you sure you have made no mistake, Lloyd?" whispered Colonel Baker
in his companion's ear.
"Positive, Colonel; I have laid my plans too carefully for that."
The two men were crouching behind a corner of a tumbled-down stone
wall. Their position commanded a full view of an old square mansion
standing some little distance from B Street. The galleries on the south
side of the house overlooked a low, rolling meadow which ran down to
the Potomac River.
"Have you no proof against the girl?"
"No tangible proof so far, though I am morally certain she is the
cleverest spy of them all."
"Why not arrest her on suspicion?"
"What good would that accomplish? Her family and friends are the most
influential in the District. Without actual proof of her guilt, you
could not hold her forty-eight hours."
Colonel Baker moved restlessly. Such tactics were foreign to his
nature. He believed in arresting first and investigating afterward. But
his department had gone too far in a recent case, and he had been
warned by no less a person than the President himself that his
high-handed methods would no longer be tolerated.
"My idea is to make her convict herself," resumed Lloyd, after a slight
pause.
"And you think your plot is going to work?"
"It has succeeded so far. I found out that Colonel Mitchell was
entertaining Senator and Mrs. Warren, and that Miss Newton was to be of
the party. The colonel's sentiments for her have changed within the
last few days. I shouldn't be surprised if she had snubbed him, and
wounded his vanity. Anyway he was quite willing to enter into a little
scheme I suggested. I put it on purely patriotic motives, mind you,"
Lloyd smiled grimly to himself, "that, as a loyal Union officer, it was
his duty to assist me. So he wrote a bogus despatch, purporting to come
from the adjutant-general, which he was to drop accidentally before
Miss Newton, and then give her an opportunity to pick it up."
"Did she do it?"
"I am positive she did, although I did not actually see her. I saw
Mitchell, who managed it very cleverly, drop the paper, and as they
left their table I walked over to it. The paper had disappeared from
the floor."
"Why didn't you arrest her then?"
"Because I want to find out her method of passing information on to the
rebels. She may have a confederate who would carry out her schemes
while she is in prison, and we would be none the wiser and still unable
to stop the leak. I judged that the moment Miss Newton had time to read
that paper she would instantly try to communicate with the rebels. And
I judged rightly." He paused to look up and down the silent street.
"Go on," whispered Baker impatiently.
"Symonds and I shadowed her home. She stayed in the house just long
enough to change her dress, then came on here by a circuitous route.
She has been in there about ten minutes," nodding his head in the
direction of the house.
"I am glad I met you," rejoined Baker grimly. "I enjoy being in at the
death. Sure she cannot escape you?"
"The house is surrounded by my men. I am going to give her a few more
minutes before I interrupt her little game."
Somewhere in the neighborhood a dog bayed, but there was no sign of
life about the house, except a loose shutter banged dismally to and fro
in the cutting east wind. No stars were out, and the men had to strain
their eyes to make out objects in the dark. Suddenly Baker clutched
Lloyd's arm and pointed to the south. A faint light had appeared from a
window over the south portico, which grew brighter as it moved once to
the left, then to the right, and then was raised, shedding a brilliant
gleam on the deserted galleries.
"Signaling, by God!" swore Baker. "Come, man, in with you."
He started to his feet, but Lloyd pulled him down again.
"Wait," he cautioned. "We can interfere there at any moment."
Reluctantly Baker followed his advice. Five minutes, ten minutes passed
on leaden feet to the anxious watchers. But their vigil was rewarded.
Lloyd touched his companion on the shoulder, and muttered: "If my eyes
don't deceive me, here comes some one in answer to that signal."
Baker glanced up the deserted street, and dimly saw a man slowly
approaching, apparently picking his way with care. The newcomer was
nearly opposite the dilapidated entrance gate, when the side door of
the house was cautiously opened and a figure stole out, and, making a
quick dash through the gate, collided violently against him.
The Secret Service men were too far away to catch what was said, but
they saw the two shake hands. Lloyd's men to the west of the house had
witnessed the meeting, and, without waiting for a signal, were closing
in on the pair, who stood still for a moment, then turned and walked
straight toward the place where the two officers were crouching.
"Given into our hands," muttered Baker exultingly; then, as the
newcomer stepped almost in front of him, he sprang forward, and seized
him in no uncertain grip. "I've got you," he shouted in triumph.
The man straightened his bent shoulders to his full height; then stood
passive.
"Well, well, so you have," said a quiet voice, "and what are you going
to do about it?"
"A light here," roared Baker.
Obediently one of the soldiers who had come running up struck a match,
and held it in the hollow of his hand so the wind would not extinguish
it. As the tiny flame grew brighter, he raised the match, and the light
fell full on the face of Baker's prisoner.
"Good God! The President!" gasped the colonel, and his hands fell
nerveless by his side.