A TANGLED SKEIN
The President and his companions sat looking at Symonds in stupefied
silence. Secretary Stanton was the first to speak.
"Dead!" he thundered. "Who killed him?"
"I don't know, sir."
"What killed him?"
"I don't know, sir," reiterated Symonds stupidly.
"Was he shot or stabbed?"
"Neither, sir."
"Well, damn my soul!" The exasperated and hot-tempered Secretary
clutched the inkstand with the evident intention of hurling it at
Symonds. "_What_ did he die of?"
"I don't know, sir." Symonds passed a trembling hand over his pale
face. "He was just lying there in bed--dead."
"Had Captain Lloyd been ill?" asked the President.
"No, Mr. President; not to my knowledge. He appeared to be in good
health and spirits when I left him this afternoon; only exhausted from
five days in the saddle. He told me he was going to lie down and rest,
and that I was to send for him after I had seen Colonel Baker, who was
then in Baltimore, and arranged for this lady's arrest."
"Take that chair, Symonds," said the President, "and tell us all you
know of this affair."
Obediently Symonds pulled forward the chair indicated, and faced the
President, much perturbed in mind.
"I met Colonel Baker, as Captain Lloyd directed, and gave him the
information he had been waiting for. We came here, and, after
consulting the Secretary, Colonel Baker ordered me to bring Captain
Lloyd to this room.
"When I reached Mrs. Lane's boarding house, I went directly up to the
captain's sitting room. I rapped and rapped on his door, but could get
no response." Symonds paused impressively, and five pairs of eyes
watched him almost without blinking. "The captain had told me he was a
heavy sleeper; so, thinking I would have to shake him awake, I tried
the door knob. It turned, and I entered. The room was dark except for
the moonlight which came through the front windows.
"I saw that the communicating door leading to the captain's bedroom was
open; so I went over to it and called Captain Lloyd's name. Not getting
any answer, I walked into the room. It was pitch dark, and the next
thing I knew I had tripped and fallen over a body...."
"You just stated that you found Captain Lloyd dead in bed," interposed
the Secretary sharply.
"And so I did, sir."
"Then, what do you mean by saying you fell over his body on the floor?"
"It wasn't his body, sir."
"Get on, get on!" Stanton glared impatiently at Symonds, who had
stopped and was nervously twirling his cap in his fingers. The
President was intently watching Nancy, who sat on the edge of her chair
listening to Symonds' slow speech with bated breath.
"I picked myself up, sir, considerably shaken, struck a match, found a
burner and lighted the gas. Then I leaned over and looked at the man on
the floor ... it was Major Goddard!"
A low cry of terror broke from Nancy. She reeled in her seat. Stanton
viewed her emotion with grim satisfaction. He had found the vulnerable
heel of Achilles.
"He wasn't ... Symonds, don't say it...."
Nancy pleaded. "Don't say he was----" Her hands were raised, as if to
push some over-mastering horror from her.
"No, no, ma'am; he was only unconscious from a blow on his head."
Symonds, shocked by her look of agony, spoke with unusual rapidity.
Nancy bowed her head in her hands; then, realizing that the four men
were noting her every movement, she straightened herself and faced them
with regained self-control.
"What next, Symonds?" exclaimed Stanton.
"I turned to the bed, and was astounded to see Captain Lloyd sleeping
peacefully--at least, I thought so then. I rushed over and shook and
shook him. The Lord forgive me! I was so excited over Major Goddard
that I never thought, never suspected. I had pushed Captain Lloyd up in
bed by that time in my efforts to rouse him. To my unutterable horror,
he fell back in my arms a dead weight, and my hand accidentally touched
his cold face. I quickly unbuttoned his shirt and placed my ear over
his heart, but could detect no action there, nor any pulse when I
clutched his wrist.
"It took me a few minutes to collect myself; then I called the
landlady, Mrs. Lane. She sent one of her boarders for the provost
marshal. When he arrived, I turned the rooms over to him, and came on
here to report to the Secretary."
"Did you send for a physician, Symonds?" asked Lincoln.
"Yes, Mr. President. Doctor Ward reached the boarding house a few
minutes before the provost marshal. He declared Captain Lloyd had
apparently been dead for some hours, and that Major Goddard was
unconscious from a blow on the head."
"Did he make an examination as to the cause of Captain Lloyd's death?"
inquired Stanton.
"No, Mr. Secretary. He said that the captain was beyond his help, and
that Major Goddard needed immediate attention. He dressed the major's
wound at once, and then I helped him lift the still unconscious officer
onto the other bed."
"Had Major Goddard regained consciousness before you left?"
"No, Mr. Secretary. He had lost a great deal of blood, and Doctor Ward
said it might be hours before he came to himself. The doctor seemed to
fear concussion of the brain," he added thoughtfully.
A low sigh escaped Nancy. Only the President noticed her agitation. The
other men had forgotten her presence, so absorbed were they in Symonds'
story.
"The provost marshal stationed a guard about the house," resumed
Symonds, before the Secretary could frame another question. "He placed
Mrs. Lane and her whole household under arrest pending an
investigation."
"He did right," was Stanton's brief comment. "The affair is certainly
mysterious. Did the room look as if there had been a fight?"
"No, Mr. Secretary. There was a good deal of blood collected on the
floor about Major Goddard's head; but not even a chair was overturned.
When I first reached him, Captain Lloyd lay as if asleep, covered by a
bed quilt."
"Strange!" muttered Stanton, and he looked at the President, who sat
tilted back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head, gazing through
lowered lids at the scene before him. As Lincoln made no comment, and
Warren was equally silent, he continued his questions more briskly.
"Undoubtedly Major Goddard will satisfactorily explain what took place
in the room before Captain Lloyd's death, and who his assailant was, as
soon as he regains consciousness. Now, we have a more pressing matter
to attend to to-night." With a wave of his hand, he indicated Nancy.
"This afternoon Captain Lloyd showed you a paper, a cipher despatch,
written by this young lady..."
"I protest," interrupted Nancy vehemently, "against such a base
accusation."
"...taken by him from Major George Pegram, a rebel spy, did he not?"
continued Stanton, paying no heed to Nancy.
"Yes, Mr. Secretary; he showed me such a paper," admitted Symonds.
"Did it occur to you, Symonds, to take possession of that paper before
it fell into other hands?"
"It did, sir."
"Good. Give it to me." And Stanton stretched out an eager hand.
"I--I--can't, Mr. Secretary," stammered the Secret Service agent. "I
searched all the captain's belongings before the provost marshal
arrived; but the pocketbook containing the despatch had disappeared."